Stevie Nicks was running fashionably late for her CD listening party Thursday night. Each time a boldface name was marched down Greenhouse’s red carpet, there was polite applause—and the excitement for Nicks grew. The crowd was a mix of gay and straight, neatly dressed and not so much, middle-aged and youngish.The only thing they seemed to have in common was a desire to catch a glimpse of the queen of implacable West Coast cool. Legendary gossip Michael Musto, surveying the scene waspishly from behind his chunky glasses, explained why Nicks still packs them in after 35 years:“The people who love Stevie Nicks really love her, more than they love God.” His soft voice dropping to a near-whisper, he added, “Most of them don’t even believe in God.”

When the melodic guitar intro of “Landslide” echoed through the club, a hush fell over the fans. They parted for Nicks as she walked regally to the back of the club. Her long blond tresses falling over a black poncho and her eyes behind tinted aviator glasses, Nicks is still the hallmark of mellow ’70s California rock. Curled up on a couch, she spoke softly. Referring to her never-changing vibe she said, “When you’re me, you never change. I started off this way when I was 25 years old, and I’m not a chameleon.” Leaning into my ear she added, “I’m a definite hippie, but a stylish hippie.”

I gently asked her if it was still fun to sing “Edge of Seventeen.” She replied, “I get to ride around in limousines and stay in beautiful hotel rooms, it’s electrifyingly fun.” But the mellow polish came off, and she couldn’t resist giving me the score. “You want to do what I do, so I can’t see that it would ever get old.”