Saint Pierre

After a tough morning dealing with the Mistral wind, mainly through a lot of huffing and puffing and cursing the bits of grit flying into my eyes, I slipped into the French village of Meysse. I looked for vital signs, nothing. Nothing, except a poster saying that Pauline and Alex had hosted a Karaoke night on a Wednesday about a month ago. I was out of fuel and the Bowie well had run dry, maybe he wasn’t everywhere after all. I pored over my map looked for vital signs. Where now exactly, what now exactly? And then I saw it, a lightning bolt of inspiration crashed to the ground next to the water fountain gurgling away next to me. Snaking away up into the Ardèche mountains was a settlement called Saint Pierre La Roche. Coincidentally, Pierre La Roche was Bowie’s make-up man who created the iconic Aladdin Sane lightning bolt and Bowie’s infamous shock of blue eyeliner in the Life on Mars? video.

Now, the question was was I going to destroy my whimpering thighs following a 13km detour into the sun speckled mountains on the off chance that some clue lay at the top of a mountain to the song’s meaning? I gobbled the last of my cherry tomatoes and two wafer-thin slices of ham and thought, you bet your mice in their million hordes I am.

Bowie’s stage persona was developing, gender lines were getting blurred and shock value was everything. La Roche was a make-up artist from Paris who Bowie referred to as ‘My Picasso.’ Amongst a series of outlandish and iconic insignias, he created the famous shocking blue eyeliner from Bowie’s legendary Life on Mars? video.

The golden sphere on the Life on Mars 7” single cover….

And, arguably, even more famous was La Roche’s iconic lightning bolt created for the Aladdin Sane album cover. Rumour has it the inspiration was found on an old National (Panasonic) washing machine in photographer Brian Duffy’s studio.

Rumour has it the lightning bolt was inspired by a signet Elvis’ wore of his Templar of the Christian Brotherhood society, and then cemented by the logo found on an old National (Panasonic) washing machine in photographer Brian Duffy’s studio.

This definitely warranted a hilly exploration. For my curiousity, the Ardèche mountains provided ample reward. The thunder of wind replaced by the gentle progress of water over rocks and farmhouses flecked in poetic tangles of winter berries. The only sung my out of breath humming and the chatter of invisible cicadas.

Intrigued - and sweating - spiralling ever upwards, my legs pumped furiously as the gentle nature of mountain life revealed itself. As butterflies flitted and fluttered with carefree abandon, the French threw up a road block. ‘Route Barree’ screamed the sign. Would I have to obey this isolated French instruction? Looking around it seemed unlikely the donkey in the field opposite was going to hee-haw too much at my indiscretion, so I furrowed on.

Finally, a further three kilometres later, dreams of some bucolic Bowie theme park were about to be realised as I crawled, lungs heaving, into the mountain top settlement of Saint Pierre La Roche.

I spied a chocolate box church and rested my bike Iggy against its side and perused the tiny settlement. Two drywall houses, one black cat, a sweeping vista across the Ardèche, a dopey cyclist with no snacks to imbibe, but crucially no iconic Bowie make-up artists. Sadly, La Roche became something of a forgotten man and passed away in Paris after battling AIDS in 1991 with shamefully little fanfare. And that was it. The fleeting, but tragic story behind one of the most enduring pieces of music iconography ever.

I was left to collect my thoughts on Bowie’s artistry and adoption of all aspects of fashion, his ability to surround himself with other geniuses and the rapid onset of lactic acid in my legs.