Miles Davis with his wife, the dancer France Taylor at the beach, Juan les Pins, September 1963

In 1963, I had the chance to photograph Miles Davis but I will not really meet him until 1989 in Los Angeles. One evening the Labèque sisters invite me to meet them at «Mister Chow», a luxurious Chinese restaurant on Rodeo Drive. When we arrive around 9pm, the restaurant is almost empty and at a table I find these wonderful pianists with Miles Davis. He’s standing in front of me with his straight hair, his futuristic suit, and his old boxer voice. He is impressive and curiously very friendly, affordable, unpretentious. He does not talk about him, he asks me questions about my life, my job etc. At one point he tells me that he has the project to make a video on a new music, he would like to recreate the smoky atmosphere of the club Saint-Germain of the rue Saint Benoît of the 50s in Paris. I tell him that I spent my entire teenage life in that place watching my mother dance, and I heard him play there. He offers me to direct the and gives me his phone number. Going up to Shoreham Towers, I parked my Mustang in front of Tower records. It was 11:30. I walked into that record store that I knew by heart, stopping in front of the “Jazz” section. With my eyes fixed on this piece of paper, I stood there thinking: In my hand is Miles Davis' phone number. I never saw him again, it’s the regret of my life. He died one year later.