Genie’s Adventures in Groovyland

Wednesday, December 4, 1968, THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON. I should have known the vacuum wouldn’t work. And feathers everywhere, too. Tsk, Tsk.

We were opening a new boutique upstairs at the Whisky A GoGo, Hollywood’s most famous rock and roll nightclub, and nothing was done. Nothing was ready. The carpet was full of lint, and there were feathers everywhere. Not to mention my hair wasn’t dry and my blood red lipstick wouldn’t coagulate. The invitation list read like ‘Who’s Who’ in Rock and Roll, and I couldn’t even pronounce some of the names, or remember who they were.

Buddy Miles was to open on that night also, and there was a private party earlier for Julie Driscoll and Brian Auger from England. Oh, what a night!

I was putting the last few staples in my sequins and trying to get the feathers off the carpet when the vacuum died. It just stopped. Wouldn’t work. Not at all. I sat down and sighed—then I started to cry. Just as I was really getting into it and beginning to enjoy myself, a hand touched my shoulder. I looked up and standing there before me, so close I could breathe, was a beautiful young man. He said, “Genie the Tailor, I am your Fairy Godfather, Robby, and I am here to help you.” I thought, is he for real? Does he mean it? Is he sincere? He continued, “That is, if you pay me more than the measly $1.50 an hour I’ve been getting from your office, which is $.15 an hour lower than the minimum wage, and if the State finds out about it, they’ll take away your license to…” “Stop!” I cried “Say no more?” I cried. “I can say no more,” he said.

“Just because you’re wearing pink sequins, I will help you,” he said. And then WHSSSSKKKK—the vacuum started working! I couldn’t believe it! I was so hÄ…ppy I almost cried! In fact, I started to, then he stopped me. “Don’t you want to know how I did it?” He smiled at me. “Of course,” I said, “how on earth did you do it, Fairy Godfather?” “Oh, Genie the Tailor,” he said, “it was nothing—I just woke up one morning and there it was.”

The next thing I knew, it was four hours later, and the room was reasonably clean, and Rose Knew, and I were dressed, and Kenny (my accountant) was standing faithfully by my side. We had the champagne ready, and everytime someone famous would come in, Kenny would pop the cork REALLY LOUD. It went something like this:

Genie: “Oh, hello, Micky, how are you?” POPPPPP!!!

Genie: “Hi, Peter, how’ve you” PPPOPPPPPPPP!!

Gene: “Oh, Sajid, it’s so nice to see”. PPOPPPPPPPPPP!!! Finally I could stand no more. “Kenny,” I said, “I can stand no more. Please cease the popping.”

I kept drinking champagne, glass after glass, and finally Sajid said, “Genie, I must speak to you. Come with me.” And he took my hand and led me down a hallway into a bright light. “Now look here,” he said, and lifted my chin to the light. “You’ve been drinking a lot of champagne. In fact, you’re—” “DON’T SAY IT!” I said. “For heavens sake, don’t say that awful word. I’m not woozy at all. I’m only giddy.” “Well then,” said Sajid, “just look at yourself in the mirror and see for yourself.” I smiled giddily, not at all woozily, into the mirror. “Who’s that girl over there?” I said. “She copied my outfit—she’s wearing the same thing I am, in fact, she’s even got the same makeup that I have—what nerve!” I weaved back into the party room, when everyone started congratulating me all at once. “Oh, Genie, how did you do it?” “The room looks so nice.” “If you expand you might even have room to put a telephone.” “Oh, Genie, what a nice shop. How did you do it?”. To all of which I replied airily, “Oh, I just woke up one morning and there it was.”

John and Michelle and Lou Adler were trying shirts on, and Zally Yanovsky was gesticulating wildly. Martin Sheen, the actor, was examining the sunglasses with Jackie de Shannon. “You look like an iceskater, Genie, in your sequins,” said Martin.

Just then, there was a loud POOPPPPP!!! I looked up and Kenny was standing in the bucket holding the champagne bottles. Well, I thought, I guess it’s time for me to say goodnight. Just then, Smitty came in, accompanied by no one. “Smitty,” I cried, “it’s so good to see you!” “Why, it’s Genie the Tailor,” he said, “having a party! What fun!” And we drank champagne for ever and ever. Finally there was a very small miniscule cloud of smoke, and a beautiful young man appeared, right in front of me, so close I could breathe. “Genie the Tailor,” he said, “I have something to confess to you.” Just as I was starting to say how familiar he looked, he said, “All that champagne was only in your minds. I made that champagne and it was really only orange juice.”

I reeled from the shock! My mind recoiled from the cruel blow! As soon as I realized I wasn’t drunk at all I went home and got in bed and went to sleep.

Magazine: Tiger Beat
Editor: Ann Moses
Volume: 4
Issue: 7
Publisher: Laufer Publishing Company
Page: 61