Still somewhat sour over this stunning mis-step, and without much reason to celebrate of late, I haven’t been listening to any Madonna for the past couple of months, aside from the occasional song that pops up on the radio. I’m coming around to her, deciding to forgive my pop icon even though she owes me nothing and I owe her even less, but it will take a little more time.
Today is a Madonna holiday, however, and so I am suspending this brief break to honor the release of her most daring artistic project to date: the ‘Sex’ book. It was probably the moment when the height of my fandom crested with the height of her infamy, and that kind of cataclysmic pop culture alchemy left an indelible impression on my seventeen-year-old self. Her ‘Erotica’ album came out on October 20, 1992, but I waited a day to get it when I could bundle it with the ‘Sex’ book and have the full image-and-music experience.
I was reminded of that magic – the kind of magic only Madonna has been able to conjure – when these Champagne Rose-tinted photos appeared recently, and so my heart softened a little toward the woman who once saved my life.
So on this day I’m celebrating a sort of sexual forgiveness, because sex works in mysterious ways, and sometimes it brings people back together. Back then, it cemented a bond with Madonna that was less sexual and more emotional, but in a wise woman’s words, the best of both worlds is created when they come together.
