Eriksson Leif - Forever

Copyright 2017 by Samantha Fox, Leif Eriksson, and Martin Svensson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without written permission, except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

Published in 2017 by Backbeat Books
An Imprint of Hal Leonard LLC
7777 West Bluemound Road
Milwaukee, WI 53213

Trade Book Division Editorial Offices
33 Plymouth St., Montclair, NJ 07042

All photos are from the authors collection, unless otherwise noted.

Printed in the United States of America

Book design by Kristina Rolander

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Fox, Samantha. | Eriksson, Leif, 1957- | Svensson, Martin, 1978-
Title: Forever / Samantha Fox with Leif Eriksson and Martin Svensson.
Description: Montclair, NJ : Backbeat Books, 2017.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017018628 | ISBN 9781617136900
Subjects: LCSH: Fox, Samantha. | Singers--England--Biography. | LCGFT: Autobiographies.
Classification: LCC ML420.F758 A3 2017 | DDC 782.42164092 [B] --dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017018628

www.backbeatbooks.com

Dedicated in loving memory
to Myra Stratton

Contents

February 9, 2015

This is what I remember: Im sitting in a dressing room. Its small, with just one window. On the other side of the door, I can hear the makeup artists, stylists, and studio girls running around. Theyre talking excitedly in a language I cant understand.

The air feels thick and difficult to breathe. If I could, I would leave. If I could, I would be with Myra. The uncertainty, not having any idea how long she has left. Not having any idea whether shell be alive when I wake. I cant remember the last time I slept a whole night through. It feels like everything is a haze.

Theres a knock at the door. A voice through the crack: Five minutes.

I force myself up and pull on my leather jacket. Pause in front of the mirror.

From up onstage, I can make out the intro to the song that brought me here, even if everything began in a completely different wayover thirty years ago.

Sammy, look at this!

It was a typical Sunday. Mum, Dad, Vanessa, and I had eaten a Sunday roast like always, and we were spread out on the sofa and armchairs in the living room when Mum spotted the newspaper ad. It was the twelfth of December, a date Ill never forget because it was also Mum and Dads wedding anniversary. Ill never forget the headline, either: The Face and Shape of 1983.

Mum excitedly told us that the first prize was a thousand pounds, a portfolio of pictures taken by a professional photographer, and an international modeling contract.

As a young girl, she had dreamed of being a model herself, but shed never been able to afford the right clothes or the cost of producing a portfolio. So the fact that she thought I should give it a go wasnt all that unusualand at that time I was always being told by many people that I should be a model, as I was attracting a lot of attention from the opposite sex. Even though I had no interest in either makeup or clothesmy dream was to be an actress or a musicianI liked competing and performing and had already taken part in a number of different talent shows.

We lived in North London at the time, in Mount Pleasant Villas, not far from Terri Christopher, who, according to Mum, owned loads of sexy underwear. How she knew that, I have no idea. But Terri also happened to own a professional camera, and Mum called her that same evening to ask her to bring it over, along with some nice underwearand the very next day we got to work.

It was me, Mum, Nan, Vanessa, and Terri. I remember we were in my bedroom on the top floor and that I was standing in front of a wall covered in Laura Ashley wallpaper. I was wearing a white Victorian basque, white lace gloves, white suspenders and stockings, and a pair of white high-heeled shoes. Wed borrowed everything from Terri.

Nan turned on a bedside lamp to try to create the right kind of light, and she gave me instructions on how to pose. Terri took the pictures, and Vanessa, who was ten, was her assistant. I remember we were all really happy when we were done. There was just one problem: the roll of film in the camera was several years old, and when we took it in for processing it soon became clear that we didnt have a single picture. Luckily, Mum had taken one with her own Kodak Brownie camera (one of those long, narrow ones), and on the back of that photograph she wrote my name, my measurements, our address, and our phone number, and sent it off to the newspaper.

Nineteen eighty-two was the first year that the Sunday People had run its Face and Shape competition, so I didnt really know what to expect. I actually didnt give it much thought at all. I mean, I was sixteen at the time, and struggling flat out with my A-levels at school.

But one day in early January 1983, the phone rang. Mum answered. A man from the Sunday People told her that over twenty thousand pictures had been sent in to the competition and that I was one of the twenty finalists. He wanted to know if I would take part in a photo session with the others ahead of the last few weeks. This was way before reality shows became big business, but the idea was that, just like in the reality shows we have now, the public (i.e., the readers) could follow our progress over the last few weeks in the newspaper.

I remember Mum was really enthusiastic, especially when she found out it would be John Kelly taking the pictures. He was a famous glamour model photographer at the time, married to the legendary page three girl Vivien Neves, who was also the first woman to appear naked on the front page of the Times in 1971. The Times was, and is, one of Englands most respected papers, so it was a pretty big deal when that picture was published. Anyway, Mum said that if John Kelly was taking the pictures, we could be sure they would be tasteful. And just a few weeks later, it was time to go to his studio. I cant remember exactly where it was, but I know it was Sunday and that it was windy, rainy, and cold outside.

Usually, Mum and I talked nonstop, but when we stepped through the door into Johns studio we both went quiet. Not because we were especially nervous; we just felt so embarrassed and inferior. I mean, Prince Andrews ex-girlfriend was there, plus a load of other models with Louis Vuitton bags, designer gear, and perfect hair. Some even had tiny lapdogs with themand they were all over twenty. I, on the other hand, wasnt wearing any makeup, had my hair in a ponytail, and was wearing a tracksuit, even if I did have Terris Victorian basque thing in a bag. I could feel their eyes on me, like they were thinking, Who is this little girl? Shes just a kid.

Luckily, John had arranged for a makeup artist to fix up me and the others in a nearby room. John would take pictures of each of us in his actual studio after that. We were each given a number. I think I was tenth in line, but John had only taken a few pictures when he came over to me and said, Is it OK if you wait out there till Im done with the others? I want to try taking some different pictures of you, too. He looked a bit like a rocker, with long hair and a beard. And just like a rocker, he was pretty shy and didnt really look me in the eye when he talked.

I remember the bubbling feeling in my stomach, in any case. I mean, it was like being at the bottom of the hierarchy one minute, only to feel special and chosen the next. John, who was apparently also on the Sunday People jury that picked the finalists, continued, The pictures we received were almost all professional. Thats why we noticed yours. The measurements on the back of the picture caught our eye, too, of course. John explained that they couldnt quite believe that I had such big breasts and still such narrow hips. Then he went back to his camera and called in the next girl.