Hello Madonna!

Our friend Jeremy from the It’s all about flirting fanzine wants to share his experience of meeting Madonna at Selfridges with The Tribe:

The sight of a news report on Madonnalicious.com announcing that Madonna would be doing a book-signing for 250 fans at Selfridges in London on 11th November 2004 throws me into turmoil. She has never done any kind of meet and greet with the UK fans. Do I want to meet her and possibly ruin the image I have of her? Will we get there and find thousands of fans already there? If we go, when will we have to begin queuing to be in with a chance? What the Hell will I say to her?

Finally deciding that this is an opportunity that I cannot possibly ignore, Paul and I decide to drive up to London in the early hours of Thursday morning and try our luck. So, following a 2.30am alarm call, and with everything crossed, we begin our drive to London.

Arriving in Acton a couple of hours later, we head for the nearest tube station and jump on the first tube that will take us to Bond Street station. Having spoken to Selfridges’ security manager the day before, we know that the queue is to be at the back of the building. Arriving at Selfridges at 6.30am, we turn down Duke Street and head for the Mews at the back of the building. Turning the corner, my heart leaps into my mouth. Only about seventy people are in the queue – we are well-within the 250 person limit.

I turn to Paul, start crying and announce “We’re going to do this. We’re going to meet Madonna!”

Daylight comes at around 8am, and with it a truck full of barriers, that are quickly constructed around us. Security staff from Selfridges emerge from the building shortly later and spend the next five hours monitoring the queue, doing number counts and handing out raffle tickets for coffee-runs and trips to the bathroom.

By around 11am, the 250 places have been taken in the queue and we are closed in. With only two hours to wait, the excitement is building fast. Freezing cold and hideously uncomfortable, talk turns to what people will say to Madonna. I have decided but keep it to myself. Fan-letters are scribbled out. Singalongs begin and end, just as abruptly. Dubious boasts are thrown around by the more fanatical in the queue. Much coffee is consumed.

At 1.15pm four people at a time are allowed into the building to purchase the book. The receipt is basically the ticket that gains entry to an audience with Madonna. A pre-signed book will be handed over during the meeting. Going from one extreme to another, the second floor, where we are to queue for the meeting, is oppressively hot and rather uncomfortable.

Paul and I finally get inside and join the second floor queue at 2pm and I realise that I am not prepared for this.

At about 2.30pm, we are told that Madonna is to read the book to some school children downstairs and will then be upstairs to do some quick television interviews before meeting us. Every so often for the following hour, we are told to be quiet as filming is taking place. It runs through my head that the noise we are making will annoy her and that she will be a total ***** because of this. Intrigued shoppers gather round the queue, desperate for a glimpse of Madonna, who has been hidden behind a huge black curtain.

At 3.35 a round of applause breaks out at the front of the queue, which may mean that the first person has gone in or that her interview has finished. Under a minute later a guy in his 20s emerges, book in hand, looking totally stunned. Questions from the queue are brushed aside as he rushes out, eyes filling with tears. A larger guy in his 30s is hot on his heels, crying unapologetically and looking just as bewildered. Recognising a friend in the crowd he goes up to her and announces “she said she recognised me from the concerts!” Opening the book, I see that his book has been personalised.

Several minutes later we are told that there will be no personalisation of books, but I don’t care. This is bigger than my name on a piece of paper. This is bigger than anything! As more and more fans emerge from behind the black curtain with, at the very least, tears in their eyes, I begin getting very emotional. I can’t look at Paul and I suddenly become very aware that I had spent most of the day not even comprehending the reason we have just queued for 9 hours.

Suddenly, Paul and I are two of the next three to be ushered through the black curtain. Looking across the room I see her. She is seated at a desk, filled with books, in front of a huge display board advertising all four books. I look away and choke back the tears. One of the PAs tells me just to relax and I watch as the first of our group goes up. The room is still full of people. A film crew is shooting footage and a photographer is taking photos of each meet and greet. The room is also littered with security guards. I can’t keep still.

Within seconds the first guy is gone and Paul walks up to her.

Obviously giving her his usual adorable grin, he seems to relax her and she dead-pans, “Aren’t you a bit old for a story book?”
“It’s for my niece’s and nephews,” he tells her. I think not!
“What’s your name?” she enquires.
“Paul,’” he tells her.
“Would you like a book, Paul?” Her British accent more evident than ever.
“Yes please,” he says, shaking her hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” he tells her.
“You too,” she smiles and Paul leaves the room.

And now, it’s my turn. Taking a deep breath, I walk forward, standing before her, this woman that I have idolised for over twenty years. She looks her age, not that that is a criticism in any way. She is beautiful. Her eyes are startling, and everything about her is immaculate. Wearing a dress with black top and floral skirt, black pumps with dark green polka dots, and hair long, blonde and straight.

“Hello Madonna.” Two words I never thought I’d say together!
“Hi,” she smiles.
“How are you?” I ask her.
“Good thanks. What’s your name?”
“Jeremy.” Using my proper name, something I never do but had to for this.

And then the rant begins.

“It is such a thrill for me to meet you.” I tell her.
“Thanks.” She’s still smiling.
“Thank you so much for the last twenty years. I really appreciate everything you’ve done. And the books…I work with disabled adults with wheel chairs and birth defects and stuff and they have learning difficulties and your books have been so helpful and they love them.”
“Oh, really?” she looks pleased by this.
“I’ve only been doing this job for about six months but I’ve taken each book in and they’ve been really important to them. Particularly ‘Mr Peabody’s Apples.’ They love that!”
She chuckles and I try to breathe.
“Would you like a book?” she asks me.

I can’t honestly remember what I said next. I fear I may have told her that she looked stunning or something. I’m sure it was something along those lines. I do remember shaking her hand and I have my signed book so I’m guessing it wasn’t anything too bad but my mind has gone completely blank as to my final words to her, but I think they were “take care.”

Leaving the room, I collect my bag, walk with Paul into another section of the store and completely break down. I cry for the rest of our time in Selfridges and beyond.

My whole belief that meeting Madonna would ruin the image I have of her was wrong. As professional and polite as she was, she gave every one of us her full attention and made us all feel like a million dollars.

I once read an article where the author was at a party and Madonna walked into the room. He claimed that every person turned and she had everybody’s attention. Just by being there, she lit the whole room up. I can understand that now. Madonna has such a presence that from the time we walked through the black curtain, nothing else in the room mattered.

I certainly didn’t expect to meet Madonna, nor did I expect to feel so emotional. Fear, excitement, joy, yes, but I didn’t expect so many tears. I can’t explain the emotions and I’ve never been through anything that has brought on so many different feelings. All I do know is that 9 hours of waiting around and over twenty years as a fan have been entirely worthwhile.

Taken from the latest issue of ‘It’s All About Flirting‘ Fanzine. E-mail itsallaboutflirting@yahoo.co.uk for details
Thanks to Jeremy for submitting this story