‘Just Kids begins as a love story and ends as an elegy.’

Punk-poet Patti Smith writes Just Kids as an endearing memoir full of visual vignettes that tell of of her relationship with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Set against the whimsical backdrop of ‘70s New York city, the fairy-tale charts of two kindred spirits, hand-in-hand.

Once upon a time, Patti went to go and visit friends in Brooklyn. Upon entering their apartment, she discovered that they’d mysteriously moved away. In replacement of her fleeting friends stood a ‘sleeping youth in a cloaked light’. Fate had just introduced Patti Smith to Robert Mapplethorpe. The enchanting meeting began their beautiful and magical relationship as lovers, best friends, but also as artistic muses.

The pair traipse from location to location, barely able to make ends meet. From buying one museum ticket whilst the other waited outside, to the lore of the Chelsea Hotel; from to the fanciful Coney Island, right into Andy Warhol’s factory, Just Kids brings together the story of two star-crossed lovers, set against the backdrop of a city steeped in dark mythology.

The adversity of the two kids is mixed in with a quiant romanticism, which, just as the title suggests, enshrines their innocence. The spell-binding tale is one of love, hardship and ultimately, heartbreak.

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