Grace Jones's unconventionality obviously extends to her choice of maternity wear.
A book of photographs by Pogus Caesar celebrating Britain's iconic black musicians is to be published next month.
Sadly I was only able to make one day of Lovebox this year, but either I picked the best day by far... or the whole festival must have been phenomenal.
As a child, I was always terrified of Grace Jones. She was this demented collection of legs, cheekbones and thousand-yard stares, and she came with a fearsome reputation for being, basically, madder than a barrel of monkeys.
Eighties style icon and pugilist Grace Jones took Somerset House's outdoor stage back to the future with her vibrant parade of gravity-defying wardrobe selections, raunchy jokes and much-loved hits.
In June, the company that gave us Bob Marley, Grace Jones and U2, celebrates its 50th anniversary. Pierre Perrone joins in the celebrations.
I can safely say that there aren't any other gigs I've witnessed when the highlight of the evening involved a 60-year-old semi-naked woman hula-hooping in a glittery cat mask. But you wouldn't expect anything less from disco diva-cum-style icon Grace Jones. Last year saw her back in the charts after a self-enforced two-decade exile from the recording studio, and tonight is the first of three London shows that bring to the close her eight-date UK tour to promote the new album, Hurricane.
She's belted Russell Harty, beaten James Bond and brought the house down with her fashion sense. Now the inimitable Grace Jones is back at Meltdown. Andy Gill takes cover