In the early Seventies there was this ad that ran every issue in Rolling Stone Magazine, way back in the Classified Ads Section. It was a photo of a cocky kid in aviator sunglasses looking jaded and stoned with the caption above him reading, “Jay Gatsby is the most wasted boy alive”. This thing must have run every issue for a whole year. Nothing really became of him.
Several years later at Rodney’s English Disco I used to see silver stickers of a glam boy with severe Garbo cheekbones making orgasm face with the name “Brett Smiley” on them. Again, nothing really became of that, either. The word was that he was Elvis, Garbo, and James Dean all rolled in one, but alas, no music or career to back up the hype. Although he recorded a brilliant album during this period, it would not see the light of day for almost thirty years, which devastated him.
The Prettiest Star reads like a glam version of The Bell Jar, reporting an endless downward spiral into drugs, crime and violence. After a few chapters it becomes impossible to connect the androgynous waif with the toxic derelict he became. As a matter of fact, towards the end of the book, the still alive Smiley sees a photo of his teen, glam persona and remarks, "Wasn't she cute?" As John Mendelssohn once said, “Hollywood can be cruel”.