Jordan, the British punk model, manager and all-around legend who helped create punk's distinctive fashion and became a veterinary nurse, is dead at 66. NME:
In a statement, her family revealed that Rooke "died peacefully a stone's throw away from the sea in her home town of Seaford, East Sussex in the company of her loving family at 9pm" last night (April 3).
"Jordan (Pamela Rooke) has left her mark on this planet, whether it be as 'The Queen of Punk', or for her veterinary work and countless prize winning cats," the family continued. "She lived life to the full and was true to herself and others throughout the whole of her life. She was totally trusted and respected by all those who knew her.
"Jordan was a blessed rare individual indeed. She did not want any speculation regarding her passing, and wished for the world to know that after a short period of illness, she succumbed to a relatively rare form of cancer known as cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer)."
"Jordan was a wonderful woman and will be remembered for countless decades to come," her family added.
With her Mondrian painted face and dominatrix wardrobe that combined strict heavy manners threads with her own idiosyncratic twists and turns wardrobe, her skyscraper hair and genuine 'I don't give a fuck what you think' attitude Jordan was the number one – the first punk who arrived on the scene two years before it had even started or even had a name. The heroic walking work of art who was the empowering catalyst.
More important than any of the cultural baggage was the fact that she was golden-hearted, wonderful wise woman who touched everyone who met her and left them glowing with her generosity, wisdom and cackling laugh. She was super smart, hilarious, a fan who was immersed in pop culture and most important of all had that heart of gold and her guttural laugh and mischievous Carry On sense of humour and demeanour will make me glow till the day I die.
Born too late to experience punk for real, my first experience of it was Jordan and company in Derek Jarman's Jubilee—the best part of the worst possible first experience of punk.
[Thank you, David.]