April 15 is Samantha Fox’s birthday.
When I was fifteen, I became obsessed with British pop culture. I’d buy music magazines that chronicled all the weird trends that collided in the very early eighties. I was into everything London offered, from Adam and the Ants to Soft Cell and The Specials. Music was my introduction into fashion, and fashion was my introduction into genuine self-expression.
Even then, I was sort of full of myself. I knew what was old and what was new. I knew what was trash and what was treasure. By the time Samantha Fox became famous for her so-called “singing” in 1986, I was a fully-developed, twenty-year-old snob who understood that Samantha Fox was the trashiest, least-talented person in pop music. Nevertheless, “Touch Me (I Want Your Body),” spent seven weeks at number one on the charts in Canada.
It alarmed me that such a bad singer could find success simply by looking like a porn star. I dismissed her and never looked back. For that reason, I had no idea what her zodiac sign was. Just a moment ago, for the first time ever, I looked up her natal chart.
I guess our different “modus operandi” was written in the stars. Samantha Fox was born just a few weeks after me. We share our entire outer planet layout, and the Uranus/Pluto conjunction that defines many individuals from my generation. However, if the birth time listed on astrotheme.com is correct, our ascendants are actually opposite one another within a single degree: mine is in Libra and hers is in Aries.
Besides an Aries ascendant, Fox has an Aries sun and an Aries Mars, both in the first house. She is a textbook example of many of the qualities of her sun sign: brash; precocious; indelicate. I make a lot of fun of Aries natives on this blog (and everywhere else, for that matter) because we are so different. So, it’s no surprise to discover that my aversion to Samantha Fox was decided for me by the stars themselves.
That’s right — I’m blaming the universe for this one. Or maybe I should be thanking the universe?
Hmm . . .