Editor’s letter

Madonna, Madonna, Madonna. I was “Crazy for You” from the very start. As an innocent Princess Diana-obsessed 12-year-old living in sleepy Nelson, I thank my “Lucky Star” that this “Ray of Light” exploded on to the pop scene in 1983 – so sassy, cocky and totally cool.

“Like a Prayer”, this funky feminist spoke to my young “Rebel Heart”, encouraging me to “Express Myself”. I wasn’t a “Material Girl”, but overnight my style switched from prissy princess to ra-ra skirts, lace gloves, pearls, crucifixes, ripped tights, rows of bangles, sloppy tees and messy hair. “Who’s that Girl?” my mama cried and when I decided to leave school for Wellington at 16, my father was told “Papa Don’t Preach” – and I did just fine. By day, I would study and work, and at night I’d “Get Together” with friends at clubs to get “Into the Groove” where Madonna was always in “Vogue”. I “Cherish” the memory of getting an early copy of her “Like a Prayer” vinyl in 1989, which smelled like her – no kidding! My flatmate and I would blast the “Music”, sing along clutching the cover and take turns sniffing the patchouli aroma of our idol. It’s still my favourite album.

When I moved to Auckland, naughty friends had wallpapered their lounge with photocopies of her scandalous Sex book, and my face was “Frozen” in shock! I took a “Holiday” to New York in my 20s, full of wonder, and paid homage to Madonna, retracing her steps from Desperately Seeking Susan at Battery Park, her tunes on my Walkman.

As we’ve aged in tandem, her newer music doesn’t resonate personally, but to me, she’ll always define pop culture. And the Queen of Reinvention never ever ceases to astound me. I “Live to Tell” her stories in Woman’s Day, and have been obsessed with her transition to mother and philanthropist. I’m not going to “Justify My Love” any longer – I think you get the picture.

Happy 60th birthday, Your Madgesty! “Take a Bow”, my queen.