“I was plucked from a suburban hairdressing salon, whipped up in the frenzy of Ziggy Stardust,” writes Ronson, and wound up “marrying the man of my dreams,” Mick Ronson, Bowie’s guitarist. The author had left school at 15 and trained to be a hairdresser in Bromley, where her client Mrs. Jones boasted, “My David is such an artistic boy.” Ronson met Angie and David Bowie, who wanted her to give him a short, spiky haircut, a women’s hairstyle. From there, she was invited to join Bowie and the Spiders From Mars on tour, helping with costumes and hair. In this glam-rock era, makeup for the boys was mascara, gold and silver eyeshadow, and glitter. Using diaries she kept on the road, Ronson recounts her experiences as the only working woman in Bowie’s touring party. “Onstage, Mick’s masculine sex appeal plays off against David’s femininity,” she writes. “It’s thrilling, irreverent, and oh-so appealing.” Throughout, the author captures the exciting adventures of pop stardom. “My life was all black and white until I met David,” she writes, “and afterwards it was glorious technicolour, as bright as the hair on his head.” On the flip side, she notes “how ruthless David [could] be,” casting off the Spiders for a solo career. Bowie blamed both his Ziggy character and cocaine for his callous disregard of his bandmates, but, Ronson insists, “It was raw, naked ambition.” The final 100 pages of the book follow the author’s life on tour and in domestic harmony with Mick, making the book’s title something of a misnomer. One particularly intriguing moment involves the Ronsons attending a Sex Pistols concert and realizing that rock music had moved on: “I feel as old as my mum!”