Blondie: High School Never Ends
Toby Goldstein, Creem, May 1977
ABOUT A year ago my husband returned from CBGB's, where he'd had one of those "nights out with the boys" of song and legend. The music was OK, he said, being no great lover of punk rockers. I noticed he had a piece of cloth, gray and polka-dotted, in his pocket. He put it on the table by the bed. It smelled of perfume. Not mine. "Eh, what's all this?" "Oh, that's part of Blondie's shirt. She ripped it off, threw it on the stage, and we picked up the pieces." "Oh, terrific. You can really smell that perfume. Right. Blondie. Uh-huh."
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