Introduction:
In the golden haze of the late 1960s, when London pulsed with music, fashion, and electric youth, chance encounters often turned into iconic love stories. For pop singer Lulu, one such moment happened when she met Maurice Gibb of the Bee Gees—an encounter that would soon blossom into something unforgettable.
It all began at “Top of the Pops,” where flirtation danced lightly in the air. “I remember flirting outrageously with probably all three of them,” Lulu once recalled with a laugh. But it was Maurice who stood out. “He was so cute, with his brown eyes and tiny little hips,” she said. “I was hot for him—what can I tell you? I was in love.”
Maurice, in turn, was equally charmed. Despite Lulu’s initial impression that he was a bit bigheaded—“Didn’t she know who I was?” he’d later joke—the spark between them was undeniable. After an afternoon at the BBC canteen and a casual drive back to Lulu’s place (she drove; he didn’t have a license), he popped the question—sort of. “Do you want to be just good friends, or what?” he asked. The answer was clear. Just days later, Lulu and Maurice were married in a star-studded ceremony in Buckinghamshire. It was young love at its most glamorous—and most unpredictable.
The years between 1967 and 1971 were a magical period. London was alive with artistic energy, and places like The Speakeasy became legendary gathering spots for music’s elite. “You could literally listen to each other’s albums over dinner,” Lulu remembered. The first time she walked in, she met Otis Redding. Then came Pete Townshend, Keith Moon, and even John Lennon—who famously offered her a Scotch and Coke. “I’d have drunk cyanide if he handed it to me,” Lulu laughed. “I didn’t even like Scotch and Coke, but it didn’t matter.
What followed was a whirlwind of creativity, parties, and shared dreams. Maurice was close with Ringo Starr. Lulu was, too. Their homes were just down the street from each other, and the doors were always open. “At 3 a.m., people like David Bowie or Rod Stewart would knock on the door and ask, ‘Is the bar open?’” Lulu said. “I’d have my dressing gown on, music playing, drinks flowing—it was just that kind of time.”
Despite the fame, Lulu remembers those days not as a string of chart-topping hits or red carpets, but as a time of real camaraderie. “Regardless of what people say about girl singers, we were all mates,” she said, referencing Dusty Springfield and Sandy Denny. “There was no rivalry, just music and memories.”
It was the era of love, laughter, and late-night records. And for Lulu and Maurice, it was the beginning of a story as unforgettable as any song.