In Prince’s mind, there was never a hard line between the visual and the musical; it was all one. We all came together—dancer, drummer, keyboard, lights—to transport the audience into an experience that was already a reality inside Prince’s head. I think that’s part of the chemistry that made him a megastar; he brought all this game along with his musical genius at the perfect moment in music history—the moment when “video killed the radio star.”
All of which is to say, Prince saw his dancers as part of the band. He always talked about the impression James Brown’s backup dancers made on him that time his stepfather lifted him up onto the stage.
“On my way out,” he said, “I saw some of the finest dancing girls I’ve ever seen in my life. I respected that. He influenced me by his control over his group. His dancing girls. His apples and his oranges.”
I think a lot of people heard that in some sexual way—like the dancers were his harem or something—but Prince’s dancers were more likely to be men. Way before I entered the scene, during the shooting of Purple Rain, Prince walked into the bathroom and found Tony, Damon, and Kirk breakdancing on the tile floor. He was so impressed, he highlighted them in the movie (look for them up in the balcony during “The Bird”), and the dancing beast TDK (aka The Game Boyz) was born. For the next ten years, they toured with Prince, did music videos, and contributed a lot to the general fun and mayhem that went on.
Lori Elle and Robia LaMorte, aka Diamond and Pearl, were Prince’s mascots at that moment. They were on the Diamonds and Pearls album cover and featured heavily in the touring show. It didn’t take long for me to wise up to the fact that Lori and Prince were romantically involved.
We did the music video for “The Max” with me belly dancing with my sword on top of the piano, and then we produced a commercial—“Introducing Mayte”—and we continued rehearsing for the tour. This was such a blast for me. I loved being part of that energy that had taken my breath away when I saw that very first show in Barcelona, but there was a bit of an adjustment period.
I always wore bright red lipstick, because (little dancer secret) it provided a focal point that helped me spot myself in the mirror, and I always showed up stylish and put together, because that’s just me. But on one off day I arrived wearing sweatpants, and Prince made me go home and change. I was annoyed and humiliated, but he knew how to get me laughing again when I came back in spandex. I did understand where he was coming from. He never left the house unless he was done up pretty.
“Marilyn Monroe never left the house without full makeup,” he told me, as if no other explanation was needed.
Sneakers were for basketball, period. He always showed up for rehearsal in high heels, makeup, good hair—the works. There were no jeans, ever, around Paisley Park in my era. He wore a jean jacket on “Sign o’ the Times,” and I tried to give him a hard time about it, but he said, “That’s custom. That’s different.”
Bottom line: You never ever saw him looking wrong. Knowing this, I felt a cold shiver down my spine when I read in the Minneapolis StarTribune that when his body was found in the elevator at Paisley Park, “Prince was wearing a black shirt and pants—both were on backward—and his socks were inside-out.”
This made no sense to me. The sheer irony of it broke my heart all over again.
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The Diamonds and Pearls Tour was a great introduction to touring life for me. Even though I was in only a few numbers, I was on the soundstage for every rehearsal, soaking in everything I could learn. It was fun. We were doing what we loved. I never woke up saying, “Oh, God, we gotta go to rehearsal.” I did get lonely, though, when Prince was gone out of town or too busy to hang out, and we hadn’t quite figured out my role in the whole Paisley universe, so I had a lot of downtime.
I loved coming and going from Paisley Park every day. Rehearsals for the tour were in full swing, and in the studio, Carmen Electra was working on an album. Prince went to LA for a few days to produce something for someone, and before he left he suggested that Carmen and I hang out while he was gone. Carmen hit me up to go see a movie. I was surprised to learn that she was nineteen, only a year older than me.
She picked me up in Prince’s black-on-black Jeep Cherokee with the severely tinted windows, and as we drove to the movie theater, she said, “Every time I get in this car, people honk at me. I don’t know why.”
I glanced at the dashboard. “Maybe it’s because your brights are on.”
I reached over and clicked the headlights to low beam, and she giggled.
“Oh my God! I was wondering what that was.”
We both got a huge laugh out of that and ended up having a great time. After the movies, we drank tea in my apartment, and the conversation was eye-opening. I hadn’t realized that she and Prince had a thing, and it had never occurred to me before how challenging it was to be his girlfriend. He traveled constantly and worked insane hours. His girlfriend couldn’t call him. Didn’t even have his number. He called. You answered. But he was good about checking in with people and had an uncanny sense of timing—at least he did in my experience.