Didn't see her coming

I've been reading about trouble-making soul singer Amy Winehouse for months on Perez Hilton's blog, but it wasn't until last night during simultaneous commercial breaks of the two documentaries I was flipping between - one on teenage obesity on the Food Network and one on psychopathic serial killers on the Discovery/NYTimes Channel - that I finally pulled up my iTunes Jukebox and typed her name into the iTunes Store search prompt.

"Rehab" is the first and most popular track on "Back to Black," Amy's breakthrough album released last November. The melody was catchy and her voice scratchily alluring but frankly, after having read a number of articles in which Amy nonchalantly admitted to cancelling concerts minutes before performances due to "so what, I was 'effing wasted" excuses, not to mention having cried through three painful seasons of "Intervention" on A&E, it was hard for me to take lightly her flippant and hostile attitude toward professional substance abuse counseling. After my 30 second trial of the song, I decided against forking over $1.03 and skipped to the next track, "You know I'm no good." It was better, almost entrancing. Her voice, those lyrics, that expression of from-experience broken-heartedness - and once I You-Tubed her - that look all contributed to my falling madly, deeply into my first British girl crush.

And no, Keeley Hazell doesn't count. She's hot and has a mind-bottling (see Blades of Glory) rack, but she's also about as smart, sophisticated and wry as a Disney Channel program. Girl crushes, for me, are predominately substantive, driven only in small part by a pretty face and chest/waist sizes. Well, maybe in medium part.

Monica, Scarlett and Penny are all articulate, shapely, cute-and-hot women who execute the form-fitted evening gown as successfully as the seduction of a man 20 years their senior. They're the definition of sexy. Amy is not that brand of woman. Amy's different. Way different. She's hardened by awful men who've beaten her and enabled her addictions; she dresses severely, says what's on her vulgar mind and doesn't play the Hollywood hierarchy game; she's influenced by people whose music I adore like the Crystals, Anita O'Day and Nina Simone. In short, she's the kind of woman I wish I was whenever I step into the 9:30 Club or go to Sushi Bako in the East Village.

It's more than just her Cry-Baby look to which I'm attracted, it's her hard-living, sultry voice and the half-sweet, half-fuck-you attitude that comes off her in waves of black cat-eye liner and cigarette smoke.

Ms. Amy Winehouse's look and talent for you to enjoy below: