I never actually met Amy Winehouse, but I met her side-eye once.
It was May 9, 2007, and Amy was performing at the Highline Ballroom in New York City. This was before the Highline threw V.I.P.’s and press in the balcony and allowed them to sit side-stage in an area the size of a baby’s fist. I was covering the show that evening, and considering how packed the venue was, I just needed a tiny corner in the V.I.P. nook to at least post up and take some notes. No one expected Amy to actually get through this performance because she was already fucking up, as Back to Black was only six months old. I stood in the back of the piled up section, adjacent to a booth filled with a bunch of cockney accents. A guy who looked like Ethan Embry with a slight meth face and a fedora was sitting closest to where I was standing. "Jussit on the railing, lahv," he said to me, pointing to the railing behind me. And so I did.
When Amy hit the stage, she looked directly at him. And then she looked directly at me. Her ice grill was enough to give my eyes hypothermia, as she volleyed glares back-and-forth between me and not-Ethan Embry for the duration of her set. I later learned that was Blake Fielder-Civil sitting next to me, but still had no idea why Amy would want to murder anyone in his vicinity with a uterus. The Amy documentary (directed by Asif Kapadia) cleared all of that up and more.
Amy will give you myriad emotions, but mainly it will piss you off.