Joe Strummer is exactly ten years older than me. Yet he had an affect about him of being much older and more experienced. Kind of like that advertising character, The Most Interesting Man in the World. When Joe Strummer tells you to have a Pim’s #1 Cup, you have a Pims. It seems like he really thinks you need it. He’s not doing it because he wants someone to drink with at three o’clock in the afternoon. He’s prescribing it because what works for him should work for you. And so, despite your better instincts, you acquiesce. Why not? About twenty reasons why not.
We were shooting in the Gramercy Park Hotel, same place I hung out with Edie Brickell and her band. The Clash had broken up, Strummer’s flirtation with the Pogues ended, and I think the reason I photographed him alone was because he was doing a solo record at the time. Within two seconds of arriving, Strummer walked me over to this enormous restaurant tray covered with a score or so of glasses. One glance told me the tale: all those tall icy glasses sweating into puddles on their tray contained full-on bespoke Pimm’s #1 Cup cocktails.
I dated a Princess in college.I don’t mean she was a big entitled pain in the ass. No, a literal Princess, from England. Well, no, she was a Lady, and I would have been a Viscount if I’d married her. That would have been cool. She was the least entitled and most kind and accommodating to people she encountered than anyone I’ve yet met. Ironic, as she was, quite literally, “entitled.” Among the things I learned from Pauline was about Pimm’s # 1 Cups. The cocktail is primarily associated with the British upper crust, who consume them with gusto at events like the Royal Ascot, the Henley Royal Regatta, and Wimbledon. Pimm’s itself is a gin-based beverage, ruby like grenadine. It is served with a tall glass of ice, some English lightly sparkling lemonade or ginger ale, and a bunch of fruit, sliced cucumber and other things that don’t generally appear in cocktails. But a full-on Pimm’s #1 Cup, especially if poured with a heavy hand, belies its potency with the fruit and lemonade. They are strong as hell, and their genteel lineage cannot disguise that fact. All those ladies at Ascot swanning about in giant hats are sloshed to the gills. Most Americans have no idea about Pimm’s, but I knew all about it, having quaffed them on the patio of Pauline’s Bahamas getaway that time with Champagne Charlie Spencer. It was a perfect and hilarious affectation for Joe Strummer, but kind of perfect too. I’ll bet Charlie Watts rocked them as well, though never in the presence of strangers. Strummer’s vast restaurant tray of this complicated and obscure cocktail (it must annoy the heck out of bartenders) delivered to his room in an NYC hotel is kind of perfect English rock star material too.
Joe excitedly grabbed two glistening glasses, handed me one, clinked glasses and downed about half of his. I am a terrible drinker at the best of times, and on a shoot for a major magazine with a major rock star was not one of those times. And super-intoxicated subjects can be kind of problematic, too. I downed a token sip as the Clash frontman literally bumped my elbow to make me sputter and swallow about twice what I was comfortable with. Thankfully, he turned his attention to my comely make-up artist who ushered him over to her makeup station and allowed me to pour out the rest of my ill-advised-Pimm’s and help my assistants set up lights. Even when we were going to do a cool thing with the available sunlight, like in that picture up there, we still had to set up lights, both to be able to switch outfits and sets to get “coverage” that looks like they were shot on different days and to fill in the shadows.
Though I worried about my subject (and me!) getting too hammered on these genteel fruity, soda-adjacent cocktails, I needn’t have. Despite, or because of, Joe’s ebullient personality, he may or may not have been intoxicated. But he was professional: compliant and happy to do whatever I asked of him for several hours straight. Including those shots with the sun coming through the blinds, which took some constant adjusting and contortions to get right. I allowed him to bring his drink on set, why not? Certainly made him happy. Oh, looks like we could smoke inside in New York back then.
My Aunt Cissy read the New York Times every day ‘till the day she died. But she stopped comprehending it ‘round about 2011. This was when Mayor Mike Bloomberg banned smoking in most outdoor areas, including the parks. Though not a smoker, my Aunt Cissy was outraged by the injustice of this, and would indignantly bring it up every time I saw her for the rest of her life. Joe would have been outraged (and noncompliant) by this as well.
I keep a bottle of Pimm’s on my sparsely populated liquor shelf. I like to raise a glass every now and then to roads not taken, to Cissy’s indignation, and to Joe Strummer’s righteous ebullience.