STORY: Richie and I met as teenagers in the gay clubs in Boston and both moved to NYC in 1979. We used to go to Studio 54 and Mudd Club together and he introduced me to all the drag queens going to Studio back then. His main look was wild punk eye make-up, a blond mohawk, a dress made by wrapping electric tape around his body, which I would have to painfully pull of at the end of the night, fishnets, pumps, and a stolen pair of my underwear.
He was such a fabulous vision, I so wish I had more photos, but we were too busy going out to take pictures. I’m sure nowadays he would have been an Instagram sensation, but he burned out, left town, and eventually opened a little dress shop in LA. He died a few years ago of a cancer he didn’t diagnose because he didn’t have insurance. I never really got to tell him how much he meant to me. – Nora Jones