I didn’t feel old. I admired her, but I also felt pretty certain I was going to do a good job myself.” She shrugs. “Besides, we bring different things to the pictures. She brings beautiful breasts, and I bring OK breasts and lots of personality.” (For those who rate her better than just “OK,” the line forms to the right.)
“The fact that they were Sinatras and fatherless were two things working against them,” Nancy says softly. “It was really important that I be there in the morning to make breakfast, pack the peanut butter sandwiches and send the girls off to school. And then to be there at three o’clock to hear their laughter or their anger or their frustration with what went on that day. I wouldn’t trade money or hit records for a minute of that.”
But she missed singing and, now that her children are grown, she has begun recording again after a 12-year hiatus. “It was scary as hell,” she says of her return to the studio. Her new work is a classy pop-country hybrid that shows she knows what’s hot. Naturally, she also included nods to the past: One highlight is One for My Baby, a signature tune of Frank’s.
“I couldn’t even say the word 50 when I reached that age, I hated it so much,” says Nancy, sitting in her Beverly Hills living room wearing jeans and—gotcha—white Nikes. “But then I made friends with it.” That’s an understatement: Her schedule, and these photos, bear testament to the power of health, herbs and happiness. “Now a lot of us are changing the face of 50.”
If Nancy is on a roll these days, her life hasn’t been all hit singles and glamour photography. As a child, she learned about the double-edged sword of having a famous father. Her mother says that Nancy used to cry when she heard Frank’s voice on the radio, because he often couldn’t be with her in the flesh. “I have shared him with the world ever since I can remember,” she says.
Should come as no surprise that Nancy Sinatra is back. We’ve known her since she was just a kid, when her father— you know, the most famous saloon singer in the universe—introduced her in a lilting lullaby called Nancy (With the Laughing Face). Twenty years later, she strutted into pop culture accompanied by an indelible quarter-tone bass line as she snarled the lyrics to the protofeminist anthem, number one hit and all-around cool song These Boots Are Made for Walkin’. Occasionally, she even lent daddy a hand: One of his biggest hits is Somethin’ Stupid, his duet with Nancy.
