These may not exactly fit into the OP’s challenge, but what the heck.
Late 1970’s I lived in an apartment in Miami, Flagler Street and 48th Avenue, and most evenings after school I would listen to the guys in the apartment building next door practice with their band, they called themselves The Latin Boys, and they sounded like crap. But they had a couple of nice looking girls in the band though, too old for me of course, but nice to look at. A couple of years later I saw them play at a wedding, the nicer looking of the two girls was now lead singer and the band called itself Miami Sound Machine, the cute looking girl was Gloria Estefan.
In the early 1980’s the nightclub of choice in Miami was called Casanova’s, of course back then we called them “discos”, not nightclubs. At any rate, this was the place to be, open every night except Monday, and with a live show about once a month. It had the tiniest dance floor, and it was always packed, but when they had a live show it was really, really packed, because the removable stage took up almost half the dance floor. A dance floor which, apropos of nothing, was a replica of the Saturday Night Fever disco set, with the lighted panels on the floor.
I hated nights with a live show, and avoided them like the plague, but this was really the place to be if you wanted to pick up chicks, yeah sue me, so once in a while I relented and went to put up with the live show. This is how I saw Grace Jones, but she was already famous, I also saw Laura Brannigan, when she had her song “Gloria” out. And one time I saw this one girl, who had a catchy tune, and danced up and down the stage, once in a while banging her hand on the stage lights, she was cute, and actually hung around after her show and danced with a few guys. It was Madonna.
One time, probably 1979 or 1980, I was at Chicago’s O’Hare airport waiting for a flight home to Miami when I saw a group of weirdos walking down the terminal. I mean, they were weird, one guy had a purple mohak, another had a shaved head and ripped clothes, but oh man, the girl was something else. She was wearing a cut off tank top, very obviously no bra, a huge blonde mohak, and when we made eye contact gave me a smile that made my head spin.
I considered the possibility that if I approached her, the very mean looning characters with her would kick my ass, but the power of her smile had shorted out most of my cognitive brain function. Approach her I did, and somehow managed to say something along the lines of “Hey, are you in a band or something?”. She gave me that smile again, and said that yes they were, and would be playing in Chicago later in the week, and that if I was interested they had some extra tickets. I fingered my $600 airplane ticket, and considered changing the flight, but it was just too complicated, I declined and we parted ways, never having found out her name or the name of her band.
A few days later, back in Chicago, I caught an article in the local paper, the girl’s picture brandishing a guitar, which talked about how she had just been released after being arrested during her show, on charges of “abusing herself with a sledge hammer”. Made me really wish I’d ditched my flight. The band’s name was the Plasmatics, the girl was Wendy O.