Debbie Harry and the Value of Blondie’s Deal

Is Debbie Harry a fierce inspiration to women, fashion, and music? Was her road hard? Do even the strongest and smartest women fall prey to predators to make dreams comes true because there is no other path? Would a young man with a camera make the right choice? In the matter of Debbie Harry, a blondie blonde, and a young man always on the edge the answer is yes.

In the mid 70’s the punk scene and budding new wave music world would have to face the unrelenting spirit of female empowerment. Blondie, with Debbie Harry on lead vocals, would change the face of CBGB’s, fashion, and punk. If there were to be a soundtrack to New York’s dingy and iconic CBGBs that changed music in the 80’s and beyond, Blondie would be the anchor.

In DIY punk fashion, sweet vocals and bold stage presence, she shattered the status quo. Expectations on women were destroyed as she made her presence known. She paved the way for future generations of women in rock, punk, and pop.

One of Harry’s most enduring legacies is her unwavering commitment to feminine empowerment and self expression.

In a time with few feminist icons, Debbie Harry’s fearlessness and unapologetic commitment would inspire anthems that changed women for generations. “Heart of Glass,” “Call Me,” and “One Way or Another” would become anthems for Boomer and Gen X women that would continue after Blondie would break up in ’82.

Though Blondie was no longer recording until 1997, their music still got play on MTV and the airwaves and clubs in the 1980’s. Acts that may not have existed without her force like Madonna hit the airwaves and music videos.

But it was not just music that changed because of Debbie Harry, fashion was changed as well.

POP art icon Andy Warhol would take an interest in Debbie Harry. The two become friends over the years. He took a polaroid that he converted into a portrait of her that became one of the defining and iconic pieces of his career. And with Warhol’s fingerprints on her images, the fashion industry could not ignore her look.

In an April 2023 Vogue article about Debbie Harry’s look, fashion columnist Christian Allaire wrote:

“Along with her signature bleach-blonde do, Harry often leaned into the more excessive sartorial spirit of the era: Her looks were equal parts punk and glamour, embracing pieces like spandex jumpsuits, sequin dresses, and fringed jackets. It’s a look that’s been replicated endlessly on the runways since.”

In the 80’s that very look Allaire described was seen in a lot of stores and worn by young women. One woman, directly inspired by her, would change the way I looked at modeling and photography.

While working at Silverman’s (a men’s fashion store) in the Fox Valley Mall I got to become friends with people who worked in other stores. One of them was a woman who worked cosmetics at Marshall Field’s named Norah. Norah was a fashion model on the rise.

During breaks I would sometimes go to Marshall Field’s or the mall court and hang with her and her friend Lisa. Lisa was one her best friends. Lisa was in management and promotions at Field’s.

A shared vice for all three of us was Orange Julius. It was there I met Cassie. She was short with tussled and bleach blonde hair. She had a penchant for ruby red lipstick and shadow that featured and contoured her hollow cheekbones. At work she was often rocking spandex pants or a sequined skirt under her smock and work shirt.

We had started developing a banter and there came a point I did not have to state my order.

“Sunshine Orange for Don Johnson!” she would say with a smile.

“Thank you, Blondie!” was my reply.

“That’s Miss Blondie Blonde Cassie to you.” she would say as she handed me my drink.

One day Cassie came to see me at work on her day off. She was in full punk glam fashion. She said she had just come in to say hi. We talked for a few minutes. I found out that Blondie was one of her favorite artists and the look was no accident. I told her I was a fan as well and had read a lot of magazine articles about her and thought she was amazing. She was also into Joan Jett and Madonna.

In conversation I told her that I was doing a modeling gig at Marshall Fields in a few days. Her blue eyes widened as she asked, “You’re a model?”

I blushed a little and said, “Lisa from Field’s set it up. Every prom and homecoming season they have new lines of dresses. So they do this private runway show for the press and some rich women from Naperville and the Loop. I do shows here and at Field’s on State Street. I just wear a tux and walk the models down the isle so they can do their turns. But I get paid and have fun.”

“Can I get in to see this?” she asked.

“You know the brunette woman I get smoothies with?” She nodded, “Her name’s Norah. She offered me comps for the show but I don’t even tell my friends I do this. She’s at the cosmetics counter at Field’s today. Tell her I said you can have one of my comps.”

“Norah your girlfriend?” She asked.

“Nah.” I said.

“What about the other one? Lisa.”

“No.” I said.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she pressed.

“Not right now.” I said.

“How come your friends don’t know you do something cool like that?” she asked.

“They make fun of me.” I said. “And I like doing it and all the models and staff and people at the shows are nice. I don’t want it ruined.”

“You need better friends! I’ll be there! Here’s my number. Call me! ” I was looking forward to having my first friend at one of these. My assistant manager walked up to me and said, “She likes you.” I looked at her and said, “In my dreams.”

She looked at me, shook her head, and walked away.

The fashion show was more fun than I had ever had doing one of these. Every time I came down the runway with a model, Cassie had worked her way as close to the front as she could get and gave me waves, smiles, and blew me a kiss. Some of the girls, including Norah, told me my girlfriend was cute. I agreed. A girl that strong and smart with a guy like me? That was never going to happen.

After the show she was there waiting for me. She gave me a hug and asked if we could go to Ruby Tuesday’s and talk.

Over potato skins and cheese sticks we had a casual fun conversation getting to know each other. Like me she had just finished high school and like me was taking a year off to figure things out and save money. Neither of us knew what we wanted to do yet. I was leaning toward ministry but for some reason I did not tell her that. I knew the reason. I did not want to freak her out. I didn’t want her to think I thought what they think about women.

I could not get over how self assured she seemed and she was intelligent. I learned about clouds and science in that conversation. She knew more than I did in some areas and I did not find it intimidating. I found it, and her, fascinating.

But then she shuffled in her side of the booth a little and transitioned topics.

“Norah introduced me to some of the models while I was waiting for you and a few of them told me you did portfolios for them. You’re a photographer?”

“Yeah!” I said. “It’s fun. I do some freelance work for a local paper but I like doing stuff like that for the girls.”

“I kinda want to get into modeling but can’t afford a photographer. Could you do it for the same price you did for Jenny? The redhead?”

“Free? Yeah. I’ll do that! Same deal I gave Jenny.” The deal I gave Jenny was to have her tell other people who did her work in the hopes I would get my name out there.

Something changed in Cassie’s countenance but I did not pick up on it completely. I just thought she was embarrassed to ask about free work and assumed she knew the deal.

“Same deal.” she said. There was a long pause. “Okay. I have to go. You have my number. We’ll set it up I guess.”

We had a phone call about the photo session and I made suggestions on colors and outfits for her to wear. The convo felt cold.

I saw her twice at the mall before the session and she seemed more distant and the banter was gone. I knew something was wrong but did not want to get into her personal life at the smoothie stand. Maybe I would bring it up at the photo session.

I lived at my grandparents house. The upper level used to be used for boarders to rent. Now it was my area. I had my own bedroom, bathroom, and living room area. I set up a makeshift studio in the living room using a black sheet and shop lights I converted with aluminum foil to work for photography.

Cassie came a few minutes early and was wearing cutoff shorts and a grey sweatshirt that was inside out and had a bag of clothing to change into. She seemed very nervous as I brought her upstairs. I told her I was still setting up in the other room and suggested she change in my bedroom. I gave her space and finished setting up. After a few moments I stood outside the bedroom and asked if she was ready. She said yes.

She was on her knees in my bed wearing only my satin bedsheet. And there was fear in her eyes. The restaurant and the few times at the mall all started to make sense.

This was only the second woman in my room that year and yet again there was not so great sexual tension. I was beginning to think it may be time for a no girls allowed policy. In that moment I had decided I was done doing portfolios.

“Cassie!” I exclaimed as I reached into my closet and got a bathrobe. “Did Jenny tell you we fucked for photos?”

I laid the robe at the foot of the bed and she clutched the sheet tighter to her chest as tears started to well up in her eyes. “No. But when you said the same deal I just assumed. You sounded just like the others talking in code. Oh my god!”

The others. My heart broke. The others. As a child model and a friend to models in my teens, I knew how many photographers are predators. She thought I was one of them. The others. My mom married an other. She met him at a runway show I did for Vidal Sassoon when I was 9. For over 3 years he would hurt me. The others. Everyone I knew thinks girls like Cassie are the problem while the others get a pass. My church. My friends. The others walk. The others do it again. Others face no shame and have no shame. The victims do.

“How many times have you had to fuck for pictures?”

“Twice.” She stared at the robe. I took the hint and turned around as I heard her shuffle.

“And what happened with the photos, Cassie?” I asked as I stared at my closet. I already knew the answer. I know the others.

“The first guy gave me shitty pictures and the second guy didn’t give me anything. But three girls said your work was good and Jenny said you gave her the portfolio. I’m sorry I thought you were them. Um. You can turn around now.”

Before I did I closed my eyes and took a breath. None of this was her fault. But my friends from high school and that church would think she was the problem.

She looked smaller in my white robe. I kneeled before the bed but kept a distance and eye contact. “You don’t owe me an apology.” That was my lead in. She deserved that.

She reached out a hand and she choked back tears. I moved closer and held her hand in mine. It shook. She was trembling. “Cassie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry they did that to you. I’m sorry that shooters are perverts. They’re everywhere. But ya got more in common with Debbie than you would know.” She shifted at the edge of my bed and leaned forward a little. I continued. “She slept with photographers like that to get portfolios when she was trying to become a model too. And they all disgusted her and she hated it.”

“But,” started Cassie, “But she’s strong and stands up to for herself!”

“You’re right,” I replied. “But she lived in the real world in the 70s and had no money. She never did anything wrong, but those photographers did. The casting couch is not because women are sluts, it’s because men are shitty. God we suck and the more women like you that I meet, the more I begin to get that. And you’re not weak, men like that are.”

“What do you mean women like me?” she asked.

“Women who are amazing and strong.” I said. “You’re smart and funny and I love talking to you and with every conversation you get more amazing. Meeting girls like you and other women I know make me realize that what they teach me in church and what other guys think about women is really messed up.”

She laughed and said, “I could have told you that about churches!”

“So,” I said as I released her hand, “want me to give you some privacy for your first outfit?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to relax. I thought this was something else. But do you wanna go on a date…with me…tonight?”

“Cassie! The pics are a gift. You don’t have to…” she interrupted me.

“Before I thought you were a perv I had a crush on you and I never had a guy say I was amazing or interesting or whatever and not try to get into my pants. And that makes me kinda want you to get into them, but not tonight and I did not just say that, did I just say that?” I nodded and grinned. “Shit! Anyway. If you’re gonna compare me to one of my heroes, I’m gonna be like her, take control, and ask you out since you won’t ask me and can’t understand hints.”

My heart was pounding in my chest. “Yes. God yes!”

“Okay, can I put on clothes so this is less awkward?”

She smiled, stood, and started gathering her clothes. As I left the room so she could get dressed she said, “Let’s eat to the beat!”

I laughed and left the room so we could go on our first date.

Dedicated to Erika

Every Feminist Friday is Dedicated to my friend Erika!

Erika died on Christmas leaving behind a family that has immediate needs.

Click here to read the story of how Erika saved my life when we were teenagers.

Click here to donate to the Gofundme a friend and local PRIDE organizer set up to help the family Erika was taken away from

If you liked this article, you may like the story about Cyndi Lauper and the importance of feminism and a space for women like Cassie.

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