Photographer David Bailey was also the poster boy for a social revolution as working-class young men scaled Britain's cultural citadels.
Now aged 82, he's written his racy memoirs – part one was serialised in yesterday's Daily Mail and we pick up his story in Part 2 here…
Marie Helvin posing for Bailey in 1977, two years into their marriage. He says she had 'one of the best bodies' he has ever seen
John Lennon was once asked to describe my former girlfriend Penelope Tree in three words. He said: 'Hot, hot, hot. Smart, smart, smart.'
I'd never heard of Penelope when Bea Miller, Vogue's editor in London, called me in one day and said: 'I want you to photograph this girl. She's a society girl. Her father's very important and I don't want any of your hanky-panky, so leave her alone.'
It was about the worst thing she could have said to me. I wouldn't have even looked at her, but that made me interested.
That first shoot I did with Penelope, in 1967, there was something instant between us; it was obvious to us both. I realised that I had fallen in love with her pretty quickly.
But nothing could happen and nothing was said. I was having an affair with the model Sue Murray. I was still technically married to the French actress Catherine Deneuve. In looks and style she was way ahead of everyone, Penelope.
She was a complete original. She was like a mixture of an Egyptian Jiminy Cricket and Bambi. Her legs went up to her neck.
Her father was Ronnie Tree, a Conservative MP and friend of Winston Churchill. They lived in one of the biggest private houses in New York, 123 East 79th Street.
Her mother, Marietta, was a New York socialite and activist with powerful contacts in politics. She was also, as I discovered, the biggest bitch. Truly horrible.
Pictured: Penelope Tree photographed by David Bailey in Kashmir, 1969
In January 1968, when she was just 18 and I was 30, Penelope came to Paris for the fashion collections and that's where our affair started.
In April that year, I went to New York to get her and bring her back to London to live with me at my home in Primrose Hill.
Or maybe I abducted her, depending on whose version of the story you believe. When I rang the bell at 123 East 79th Street to get Penelope, her mother opened the door, saw me and immediately tried to slam it shut.
I jammed my foot in and said to her: 'Don't worry, it could be worse. It could be a Rolling Stone.' I got on well with Ronnie, her dad. But he wanted Penelope to marry Lord Lichfield – Patrick, a photographer with an earldom.
When I first worked with Penelope, it was me and her. I think photography is all sex. I don't say I slept with models like it's a conquest; it's just that's what happens if you're close to somebody – you end up in bed with them.
Penelope's initiation into Primrose Hill was the shooting of one of my books of portraits, Goodbye Baby & Amen, which involved 160 or so of the people who more or less made up the Sixties coming to our house to be photographed: the actor Peter Ustinov, John Lennon, Christine Keeler, now out of prison after the Profumo Affair, and a little down on her luck, Brigitte Bardot, the photographer Bill Brandt – to name a random choice of opposites.
Our life in Primrose Hill was assisted by César, a Brazilian who'd been an 'exotic' dancer in Paris. Penelope had found him. She described him as the butler, as some kind of ironic memory of her father's staff in New York.
César never cleared up or anything. One day he said to Penelope 'You treat me like a servant', and she, unable to resist it, replied: 'But, César, you are.'
One of César's tasks was to feed the parrots. I don't know why I had 60 of them. You become a sort of collector, in a way. I had cockatoos, lovebirds, finches, rosellas, hyacinth macaws, the most beautiful of all.
The five years with Penelope were almost the most intense period of work in my career. I travelled with her across Europe to fashion shoots in my dark-blue Ferrari 275. We stayed in out-of-the-way places – little inns, villages. It was wonderful.
Around 1971, after we'd been together for about three years, Penelope's luck changed. Her look, which was so distinctive, was no longer required. fashion had moved on.
I was told I couldn't use her so much. And she had other problems. She had started to get fat. That was the beginning of the end of her career as a model. We were drifting apart anyway.
She'd got involved with a bunch of hippy friends I didn't like. In 1972, she was busted for possession of cocaine with these other scumbag friends. I probably got the blame for it from her mother. I wasn't into drugs. I've never bought a drug in my life.
Not long after that, Penelope walked out. She left me, but I had left her, too. I was having an affair with the wife of a friend of mine, who came after me with a baseball bat. It was sad. I was madly in love with Penelope when she left, but it's no good hanging on to something that's not working.
Kate Moss: I've never met anyone more photogenic
For me, Kate Moss was the second- greatest model I had ever worked with, after Jean Shrimpton.
Both of them have a magic that is still impossible to explain. It's something the camera picks up.
I know more beautiful girls, but I've never met anybody more photogenic.
And it had nothing to do with the waif look or 'heroin chic' or grunge.
Some girls – these two girls – didn't have to do anything and still looked good.
Jean was a good mover. My wife Catherine can move as well. Some girls can work a dress, some girls can't.
Jerry Hall works a dress. Kate just stands there and does nothing.
I don't want her to do anything. She doesn't work a dress, she's just Kate. Kate is totally natural.
For me, Kate Moss was the second- greatest model I had ever worked with
Princess Diana: She insisted on terrible hair that looked like a wig
The Live Aid concert in 1985 was maybe the greatest pop concert ever and the biggest link-up of humanity – two billion people, a third of the world's population, watching as it was transmitted live from Wembley.
I'd been asked to photograph everyone, so I set up a makeshift studio and captured everyone as they came off stage. We auctioned off all the pictures afterwards.
The only people who were a bit off were George Michael and Sade, who didn't want her picture taken.
It was funny. Diana (Princess of Wales) was there, although I didn't see her that day.
Diana was a nice, upper-class Sloaney girl, but she was no great Beauty.
They used to call Prince Charles handsome and dashing, too, which really is a stretch.
Diana was all right, but she insisted on having that terrible hairdo, the one that looked like a wig.
She had a terrible posture.
Anjelica Huston: I warned Jack Nicholson she's a 'f****** handful'
In the summer of 1973, the actress Anjelica Huston and I were having a romantic episode, despite her boyfriend Jack Nicholson.
She was partly paying him back for being too casual with her and straying with other girls after they'd got together a few weeks earlier.
I think she saw us – her and me – like I did, as an episode. I liked her very much and she liked me and we had fun together. She was great, Anjelica.
Her ploy worked. Jack phoned me and said: 'Are you in love with Anjelica?'
I said: 'No. I like her, but I wouldn't call it love.'
In the summer of 1973, the actress Anjelica Huston and I were having a romantic episodesonos sonos One (Gen 2) - Voice Controlled Smart Speaker with Amazon Alexa Built-in - Black read more
He said: 'Well, I am.'
So I said: 'OK, but whatever you do, don't buy her flowers because if you spoil her she'll be difficult to handle because she's a f****** handful. She'll know she's got you under the thumb.'
She was very tough, Anjelica. They were together after that, on and off, for a few years.
Donald Trump: Not as stupid as people think
One day I was in a restaurant in New York when Donald Trump came over and sat down next to me.
And he said: 'How do you get such classy women, Bailey?'
And I said: 'You wouldn't understand, Donald. It's to do with humour.'
He's all right. He might say stupid things, but he's obviously not that stupid as he's the most powerful man in the world. I wish I was that stupid sometimes.
Of course, I didn't think he would be President of the United States, but in America anything's possible.
I think Clint Eastwood could've been if he'd run for office.