Fade To Blonde
A year or so ago, Gabriel García Márquez
wrote about Shakira in his magazine, Cambio. "It's difficult
to be Shakira in this day and age, not just because of her genius
and judgement, but for the miracle of her maturity so inconceivable
at her age. She has more prizes, trophies, and awards than many
longtime veteran performer. You can see she is just how she wanted
to be: intelligent, insecure, modest, desirous, evasive, intense,"
he explained.
Here she is today, all of those things, acting as
if every moment of her life was a creative exercise, everything
she said was broadcast live from some new planet she was visiting.
There has always been something mystical about Shakira and her
creativity. Sprawled across a couch in jeans and a white, ribbed
tank top at the swanky Essex Hotel in New York City, Shakira was
tired, but gracious. She had been out all night, shuttling between
the numerous after-parties for the MTV Video Awards, where she
presented alongside Busta Rhymes.
Towards the end of a long afternoon, I asked her
about "Underneath Your Clothes," a song from her new
album Laundry Service, where she sings, "There's the man
I chose/ That's my territory/And all the things I deserve/ For
being such a good girl honey."
"What do you mean, she was a good girl?"
I asked, thinking the lyrics could be interpreted in a number
of ways.
"It's like, how good was she, right?"
she laughed, for a second completely amused by the reality of
being "Shakira." The new kid on the block. The Lebanese
Colombian girl-next-door who spent months learning English so
she could conquer the American pop music world, only to be confronted
in a hotel suite with a view of Central Park by a nosy reporter
as she patiently pawed through her dyed-blond pseudo-dreadlocks.
"I feel I've been a good girl," she half-shouted,
smiling, sitting up, rising to the occasion. "Underneath
his clothes is everything I deserve for being a good girl. And
the rest is for people to interpret. I don't want to explain each
little word. I'm sure even [Soda Stereo frontman] Gustavo Cerati
doesn't understand what he writes. Ask the painter Miró
what he tried to express. It's impossible. I could explain it
but I feel like I'm ruining the magic of it."
Written by Ed Morales of Urban Latino Magazine
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