A Strange But Beautiful Flower Has Died
When Amy Winehouse died of an overdose at such a young age, I felt worse about her death than I expected to. She’s not someone I listen to all the time. But the first time I heard her, it only took a few seconds before I realized that hers was one of the most powerful and unique voices anywhere. It was all the more remarkable for issuing from her slight, often maltreated body.
I’ll confess that at times when hearing about her more wayward antics, I would sometimes judgmentally shake my head (or even chuckle) and think that someone should do an intervention. But it’s never that simple, as any addict will tell you.
I was thinking about how badly I felt when I heard the news. I do like an underdog, and she certainly didn’t make it based on looks. She created her own bizarre style, and despite the fact that my dress style would never be called edgy, I enjoyed her sartorial sorties just as I enjoy Lady Gaga’s insane getups. I was also hoping that she would pull it together, that she was still young enough to recover. It’s how many of us feel about addicts we see from a distance or in our own family. The thought of losing a very talented daughter with a very promising life ahead of her is singularly horrible. I think many of us can think of someone who is troubled, yet impervious to help and unable to care for themselves.