GagaLennon: Garage Glamorous

Lady Gaga had a lot to do that day, she had told him, but when bringing it up with the rest of her crew (the Haus of Gaga or whatever she called it), they all seemed up and excited for legendary John Lennon to tag along for the ride. He had wondered at that moment, putting his phone down (which had somehow survived yesterday's wall throw) if he would regret making that call, but as Gaga had told him that a ride would be over to gather him soon, he figured he might as well not think about it. What was important was getting out of the hotel for a spell--not to spend another day alone with shadows and suggestive specters in his belly. Or drunk.

***

She was naked.

John took up a spot behind the photographer, just a bit aways from Gaga's friends as the pop singer took her place on the stage-set getting into position on a set of folding chairs. He didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or not; it's not as if Gaga had worn much more than what she did now, which basically added up to a platinum wig, white boots, and a couple of tattoos, when she'd visited his hotel the last two times.

She had apparently noticed his discomfort, as she called out an apology from stage, and he replied with a snort of his nose and a reply that he may be 71 years old, but he wasn't complaining. She laughed, but he regretted saying it the moment it was out of his mouth, and looked away.

He shouldn't be surprised. Not just for who Gaga was, but with Anne Liebovitz at the photographic helm, nudity wasn't exactly out of the question. He'd had a few sessions with the woman before, after all, and remembered with a pang of guilt having wrapped himself around Yoko decades ago, completely naked. Anne had tried to convince Yoko to strip as well--his wife had refused then. It was a famous album cover now, but it bothered him still, a bit; she had posed with him naked before, once when they had been younger and deep in love--two virgins, as he had put it.

Once when...

The shoot went on and John had taken to shoving himself against the wall and the side of the dressing table, smoking a cigarette. He may have left the hotel but the thoughts still cycled through his brain with the constant push and pull of a cyclone at sea; the specters hadn't haunted the hotel room, they haunted his damn brain. Did he think that would actually change? He eyed the set, Gaga's friends/coworkers/handlers/whatever gathered in a bunch at the other end of the table, primping wigs and a few items of apparent haute-couture that the woman would be putting on later in the day, Anne Liebovitz snapping photographs and calling out suggestions as Gaga shifted on stage. He looked away and up at the rafters, and once again lost himself in the shadows that the bright lights cast on everything.

***

"I want John to be in a few photos with me."

That snapped him out of it.

"What?"

***

Gaga wasn't the only one among her lot who were crazy, he was soon to find out, as they ushered and urged him in and out of the bathroom to take off his clothes and slip into a robe. He had fought against it at first, especially after they told him what they had planned. Who the fuck wanted to see a 71 year old man naked, and why the fuck would you take photographs of it? He and the other ex-Beatles (well, at least he and Paul--he wasn't sure if Ringo and George had many naked photographs to their names) had given up on that nude thing when the wrinkles had started to spread past their face. He told them as much too.

But they insisted and insisted, Gaga maintaining that he had to keep busy from moping on the sidelines, and going into a long spiel that she had about what the pictures would mean, some yada-dada stuff about the old integrating with the new, the deep down message of the importance of music, etc, etc, as many et ceteras as you could pile on. It wasn't until he had been reminded once again of the photo he had taken with Yoko, about his wife's resistance to getting naked for the sake of art in that instance, and that thrumming pain in his chest reminding him of how old and useless he felt...well, he finally agreed anyway.

But he would keep his boots on.

***
He remembered tweeting that meeting gaga didn't mean he would put on a blonde wig and get naked, but he supposed that wasn't entirely true.

***
It was all crazy and ridiculous, but he found himself not-caring. He remembered back in Hamburg, coming out of the dressing room in his underwear with a toilet seat around his neck. He tried on a few wigs, strummed his guitar, made faces at the camera--actually smiled once or twice--and felt the roundabout of a 40 year old relationship shrinking a bit further away again, as it had done the night he had first met her. She laughed, and smiled, and posed with him, cracked jokes and danced with the assistants between takes as they adjusted her hair. He marveled at how smokey and surreal she could seem as their photos were taken, her expression falling into a some strange ethereal realm where she was Goddess, she was Mother Monster on high, and then back again to a 25 year old girl who drank too much whiskey and made friends with everyone.

The stage floor was cold against his back as he lay down for a final picture with her, stark in contrast to the all-too-yielding couch in his hotel room. He didn't give a fuck. He liked it better that way, he found, slipping on a pair of oversized sunglasses and listening as Gaga lay down beside him. Photos were snapped from atop step ladders, and once or twice he felt Gaga's hand twitch over and pat his own.

"Holding in there, John?" she asked.

"Ah yeah. Lyin on the floor in a wig, hardest job in the industry."

"You'd be surprised."

A light flashed in his eyes from the camera. The photo was supposed to be serious, and Anne asked him to try not to smile this time.

He tried to put his face into a neutral frown.

Amazingly, he found it harder to do than it should have been.

***

Pictures are of the photoshoot and a couple of "behind the scenes" things, I guess, idek.

Note: I imagine John dyes his hair, if you're wondering why it's so brown. He and Paul probably give each other flack about it.

Non-sexual nudity, of course.

BECAUSE NUDITY IS ARTSY OR SOMETHING. Slightly based on a story Gaga told about being naked in front of Tony Bennett.