Julie - Tawny Kitaen: My adopted sister

My bond with Tawny (Kitaen) wasn’t something casual or short-lived—it dug in deep, like family you pick and never really let go of.

I first met her in 1977 through Robb when he dated her, long before anyone even knew her name. Back then she was simply Tawny from San Diego—bright, untamed, magnetic, already carrying that spark that made everyone take notice. But to me she wasn’t a star. She was my girl friend, and sister in every way that counted.

I saw her true self—her family, her upbringing, the real person beneath the glamour.

We shared our unfiltered beginnings, and then came the nights. 

The two of us tearing through the San Diego parties, and Hollywood’s neon heartbeat as if it were ours—because, in a way, it was.

The Rainbow Bar and Grill in West Hollywood became our second home. Drinks on tap, laughter slicing through the haze of smoke. We were part of the energy that made those evenings unforgettable.

Sometimes we drank too much, but that was the rhythm. We danced too—reckless, but we were alive, and perfectly in sync. 

Parties bled into sunrises, outfits swapped on a whim, closets opened without a second thought. Nothing was mine or hers. It was ours. And between us, words were often unnecessary.

When it came to Robb, there was no jealousy or betrayal—just an unspoken pact that your friendship came first. She knew I knew him first, and besides, she didn't stay with him long.

Tawny left on a whim one night with Pete Angeles - the sound engineer for Van Halen. but we kept in touch.

She had her own orbit— men drawn by fame or fortune or whatever circles she moved in. That was her world; I had my own.

Over the years— as fame rose and fell, relationships shifted, people were lost, time marched on—our connection retained its own shape. It might have stretched or bent, might have left gaps when life pulled us apart for a while, but our friendship never vanished. From 1977 to 2025, a sisterhood like that doesn’t fade. It transforms. It settles into something deeper than wild nights—into shared memories, unwavering loyalty, a quiet certainty that however far apart we drifted, we were always part of each other’s story.

Tawny wasn’t just someone to party with, she was my sister.