In this autobiography, the author tells the story of her childhood, her family and her unlikely survival.--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Dickinson's story moves at lightening speed, from boyfriend to boyfriend, designer to designer. Sometimes it's hard to keep track, which I suppose is perfectly apt - as this writing style mimics the very speed and pace that her career and life travelled at at that time. From the glamourous foreign locations to the heady excess of Studio 54, Janice paints a fantasty world of almost ludicrous proportions. Except that it's not a fantasy world at all - it all happened, and Janice recalls each event with glorious detail and candour. Her honesty and confidence is very refreshing, making such a nice change from the usual sychophantic memiors that fill the shelves.
My only complaint is with the last section of the book, covering the 1990s. Janice is very vague and seems to completetly rush throught these years, with major marriages and realtionships over and done with in a matter of pages. But hey, who really cares about those years anyway? We all what to read about Janice in her prime, in the 70s and 80s, when cocaine and platform shoes were practically a legal requirement.
Some may find Dickinson too much to take (she is a tad irritating at times), but I can forgive her for it, because she makes up for it with her brutal honesty and humour.
A must read