David Bowie was still 17-year-old David Jones from Brixton, England, when he first appeared on the BBC's Tonight show in 1964. He was invited on to discuss the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Long-Haired Men, an organization, cheeky in purpose and spirit, that he had formed after a music producer gave him flak for his shaggy haircut. "I think we all like long hair and we don't see why other people should persecute us because of it," Bowie proclaimed to host Cliff Michelmore in the grainy black-and-white program. Looking back at it now, that earnest proclamation challenging the then-public's sense of normalcy feels like the first hint of the square-peg vibe the world would experience in the years to follow.
Bowie in the 1960s, when he was just emerging onto the music scene.
I can't remember whether it was during a frantic preteen album rifling session at Boston's Newbury Comics or at a sleepover viewing of Labyrinth that I first caught a glimpse of David Bowie. What I do remember is feeling immediately awe-struck by this amazing creature; his sound, his appearance, it was unlike anything my young self had ever experienced. Generations of teenagers have felt similarly swept up by Bowie; how could they not? We found in him a kindred misfit idol. Here was someone who told us that weird was not only OK, it was beautiful. That we should follow our imaginations, no matter what strange corners they led us to. And that playing by the rules of age-old gender norms wasn't necessary, and, in fact, it was pretty boring.
As tribute images collectively flooded Instagram feeds over the past 24 hours, it became clear that the impact of his outlier essence was far-reaching. And in beauty and style circles, that impact was particularly indelible (just see the social media accounts of any major model, hairstylist, or makeup artist). Bowie was, after all, the ultimate image shape-shifter. In the decade-plus span between 1970 and the early 1980s, with every album release, came a radical, new, fully-imagined look. "That period was everything," says makeup artist Pati Dubroff (who happens to have a bit role, as Kim, in the cult-favorite Bowie film The Linguini Incident). "Seeing his Ziggy Stardust character was the first time I understood and saw that makeup could be fantastical...that it could take you to magical places."
