Afternoon:
10°c
Rough Trade East on Brick Lane is London's coolest record shop (last week it won Music Week's retailer of the year). Lo-fi types hang around spinning 12-inch vinyl. There are gorgeous spindly girls in vintage frocks and legwarmers. Most weeks it has a free in-store gig. It's the great youthquake venue.
So, ahem, what am I - aged somewhere between 35 and Joan Collins - doing here? In my matronly Mad Men frock, carrying a proper handbag, I look wildly out of place. These days I just don't do raw and intimate. I like seats and programmes and a decent glass of merlot. My dream gig is when my friend Ruthe swings open the door of the Inc Group box at the O2 and says: "Liz, let me take you through the snacks."
I've done my years standing at gigs or sweating in the mosh pit. After paying £45 last year to see the top of Björk's head at the Hammersmith Apollo, I'm quite happy to watch live music on TV.
But tonight is different - Marianne Faithfull, the rock goddess of all time, is playing a free gig at Rough Trade to promote her new album of covers, Easy Come, Easy Go. I have worshipped Marianne ever since she released Broken English in 1979 and confounded everyone's expectations of a rock chick. And because of her I'm prepared to brave the terrifying young people, the shabby-chic décor, and the bewildering etiquette of the in-store gig.
But it's OK. As soon as Marianne hits the stage, everyone relaxes. She laughs that throaty laugh and jokes about the venue - "We did this in the 1960s!" - and we're off. First her ridiculously sexy cover of Morrissey's Dear God Please Help Me ("There are explosive kegs between my legs/Now he's spreading my legs with his in between") and then - a nugget of nostalgia - The Ballad of Lucy Jordan.
After 30 free minutes, that's it. Marianne is no fool. She has bills to pay. We can all buy tickets for her gig at the Royal Festival Hall on 20 July, she tells us candidly.
But it's worked. I've got over my dread of the indie record shop. I might even go to another gig if I can get the wardrobe right. Though I shouldn't have worried so much - the coolest woman in the place was 62.
