Welcome to Terryworld
by Dian Hanson
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The year is 1976 and the eleven-year-old future fashion phenomenon is in the back of Hughe's Market, staring raptly at the glossy pages of a magazine. While other boys enjoy the California sun, Terry is crouched here behind the shelves of mayonnaise, coffee and canned peas, his eyes feasting on the play of light on form, marveling at camera angles and imaginative close-ups. One page in particular is irresistible. He carefully removes it from the magazine, stuffs it down the front of his pants and with heart pounding, exits the store. At home in the big closet of his mother's Hollywood apartment he extracts his prize and gets to work, jacking off to the page torn from Penthouse magazine.
What? You thought it'd be French Vogue? Somewhere, surely, there is a boy stealing pages from fashion magazines, but Terry Richardson, son of innovative sixties' fashion photographer Bob Richardson, had no vision of his fashion future at age eleven. "I'd flip through the magazines and find pictures I liked, usually girls with big boobs. I figured if I stole individual pages it wouldn't be as bad as stealing the whole magazine if I got caught. I liked hairy pussies and big tits."
Terry was born in 1965, in New York City, when Bob Richardson was at the height of his career. His mother was a dancer, performing on stage in Bye Bye Birdie and at the Copacabana nightclub. It was a jet set life for young Terry until the Richardsons divorced in 1970 and Norma Richardson moved him to Woodstock, taking a job as a waitress, changing her name to Annie, and "just going into Bohemian hippiedom". In Woodstock Annie met her second husband, English musician Jackie Lomax, who was recording at the famous Bearsville studios nearby. The family stayed on for four years in Woodstock, tried a year in London and then settled in Hollywood. Ten-year-old Terry did not adjust well. "I was extremely violent as a child," he explains, which is why Annie was on her way to pick him up from a therapist's the day she was rear-ended by a Pacific Bell telephone truck.
The coma lasted a month, and when she awoke doctors determined the brain damage was permanent. "She could never really walk properly and she was in diapers," Terry says. There was no question of Annie returning to work, so while the court case dragged on the family survived on welfare. "The US government and my grandma raised me from ten to fourteen. My life basically started off jet set and then we were nearly homeless, on welfare and food stamps. I ate a lot of commodity cheese." To get them off welfare Terry's step-dad settled out of court with Pacific Bell. "All she got was three hundred grand. She should have got millions, but we were so poor and needed the money," Terry says.
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
The year is 1976 and the eleven-year-old future fashion phenomenon is in the back of Hughe's Market, staring raptly at the glossy pages of a magazine. While other boys enjoy the California sun, Terry is crouched here behind the shelves of mayonnaise, coffee and canned peas, his eyes feasting on the play of light on form, marveling at camera angles and imaginative close-ups. One page in particular is irresistible. He carefully removes it from the magazine, stuffs it down the front of his pants and with heart pounding, exits the store. At home in the big closet of his mother's Hollywood apartment he extracts his prize and gets to work, jacking off to the page torn from Penthouse magazine.
What? You thought it'd be French Vogue? Somewhere, surely, there is a boy stealing pages from fashion magazines, but Terry Richardson, son of innovative sixties' fashion photographer Bob Richardson, had no vision of his fashion future at age eleven. "I'd flip through the magazines and find pictures I liked, usually girls with big boobs. I figured if I stole individual pages it wouldn't be as bad as stealing the whole magazine if I got caught. I liked hairy pussies and big tits."
Terry was born in 1965, in New York City, when Bob Richardson was at the height of his career. His mother was a dancer, performing on stage in Bye Bye Birdie and at the Copacabana nightclub. It was a jet set life for young Terry until the Richardsons divorced in 1970 and Norma Richardson moved him to Woodstock, taking a job as a waitress, changing her name to Annie, and "just going into Bohemian hippiedom". In Woodstock Annie met her second husband, English musician Jackie Lomax, who was recording at the famous Bearsville studios nearby. The family stayed on for four years in Woodstock, tried a year in London and then settled in Hollywood. Ten-year-old Terry did not adjust well. "I was extremely violent as a child," he explains, which is why Annie was on her way to pick him up from a therapist's the day she was rear-ended by a Pacific Bell telephone truck.
The coma lasted a month, and when she awoke doctors determined the brain damage was permanent. "She could never really walk properly and she was in diapers," Terry says. There was no question of Annie returning to work, so while the court case dragged on the family survived on welfare. "The US government and my grandma raised me from ten to fourteen. My life basically started off jet set and then we were nearly homeless, on welfare and food stamps. I ate a lot of commodity cheese." To get them off welfare Terry's step-dad settled out of court with Pacific Bell. "All she got was three hundred grand. She should have got millions, but we were so poor and needed the money," Terry says.
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Terryworld
Hardcover, 26 x 34 cm (10.2 x 13.4 in.), 288 pages
$ 70.00
$ 70.00
Welcome to Terryworld, the land restraint forgot
(c) Terry Richardson