If you’ve seen the Amy Winehouse show in Benidorm and wondered,
“Is she actually insane or is this method acting?”
Welcome. This is the long answer.
I don’t consider myself an Amy Winehouse impersonator. My show is more like a love letter. A second chance at the career I was once told was “not in the stars.”
By one accidental click
Most kids get toys for their 6th birthday. I got a guitar and a stepmother who taught me how to bond over power chords. By 14, I was already in the rock scene, but there was a catch: I was a girl in Argentina in the 2000s. My parents (both doctors) thought music was a «dangerous» fantasy that I should not pursue.
I was a guest singer in a band called Amanda Jones. One day, while looking up the origin of the name, I accidentally clicked on “Me and Mr. Jones” by someone I had never heard of before:
Amy Winehouse.
I was hooked. In a world of bubblegum pop, Amy was female rage on steroids. She cursed, she was upset, and she said exactly what was on her mind. She was the millennial rockstar I wasn’t allowed to be.
And the sensible career path
My father was so against me singing that he actually took me to an astrologer to get my birth chart read. Her verdict? «Art is not in the stars for you.» I’ve hated astrology ever since.
So, I did the «sensible» thing. I studied to be a Tour Guide. It wasn’t medicine, but it was a stage. I was still singing when I could, cause you can’t run away from who you really are.
But in 2018, life hit back. I discovered I had vocal polyps. I had to have surgery and stop singing for a year. Every since then, I developed an irrational fear of my own voice.
In 2019, I moved to Spain. I worked behind a computer. I ran a startup. I tried to be practical.
I was miserable.
👊 I Fought a Burglar. Then Myself
By 2021, I was leading pub crawls. Fun? Yes. Sustainable? Not exactly.
In one single month:
I went to a spiritual retreat. Took psychedelics. Got metaphorically slapped by the universe.
“Roxy, you wanted a career in music. Not a bedroom hobby. Start now.”
IT’S A LONG WAY TO THE TOP IF YOU WANNA ROCK AND ROLL
I got fired. It was tough, but I knew I needed a change. I found love, a love so kind that lent me money to buy a Bose speaker and a Shure mic.
I got a boring part time job, and the rest of the time, I gave busking a try. I was terrified.
I spent 4 hours a day commuting to tiny Spanish towns just to avoid the police. I sang tangos, salsas, and jazz. One time in Valencia, while I was singing «Stronger Than Me,» a stranger sat down and drew me and my clarinet player friend. We made €150 in the hat that day, which was an insane amount of money for us back then. That day made me believe I could actually go somewhere with my music.
Then came the «Great Migration.»
I went to Germany to be with my boyfriend. Just so you know: Don’t try to be a busker in Germany. The police have stopwatches. You have to move every 30 minutes. No amplification. It also rains all the time. It was a disaster.
I moved back to Valencia with two suitcases and a dream, only for my musical partner to quit the project one week after I arrived.
I had a full-blown crisis. But then, I found Benidorm.
And the €1,000 Fine That Never Happened
May 2024.
Busking on a beach in Benidorm.
The police caught me. €1,000 fine pending.
Then, out of nowhere, this tiny, fierce English lady (who probably had dementia and a white dog that looked exactly like her) started screaming at the police. «She’s not harming anyone! You’ll have to take me before you take her!» She was so terrifying the police actually backed off.
She looked me dead in the eye and said: «You need to do an Amy Winehouse tribute. I’ve lived here 10 years and nobody is doing her right. You’re fabulous. Do it.»
There is hustle behind the hairspray
I spent that summer working as a hotel animator and busking coin by coin to pay my first three months of rent in Benidorm.
On October 9th, 2024, I performed the first show. I had fake tattoos, a DIY beehive, and outfits I found online. I was «Amy Winehouse from Temu.» I was terrified to post the videos because the sound was rough, but Benidorm didn’t care.
When in Benidorm, I briefly worked for a «crazy boss» who slammed doors and threw slurs, but I realized I was just building his dream. I quit, built my first website in two days, and by November 16th, I had my first Benidorm gig. One month later, I was doing 10 shows a week.
Benidorm is more than neon lights and 1€ pints.
When I’m not performing my Amy Winehouse tribute in Benidorm, I run a community project called Benidorm Social — built to break the tourist bubble and connect people beyond the stage.
Today, my Amy Winehouse Experience is an emotional rollercoaster. It’s cheeky, it’s sassy, it’s high-camp drag, and sometimes I twerk in the middle of it.
People ask me why I do it. It’s because Amy Winehouse cured my Imposter Syndrome.
I realized that nobody will ever fit her shoes. Not me, not ever. I can’t «be» her, and I don’t try to be. But she is the artist who pushed me to find my own voice, to study every day, and to finally tell my parents (and that astrologer) that they were dead wrong.
I wanna do more than just sing the songs. I want to channel the freedom she gave us as teenagers. She said whatever came to her mind. She was sensual, but in a beautifully clumsy way. She was politically incorrect. She was a musician. She was free. She was everything I wasn’t allowed to be.
Many people see a «trashy resort,» but I see a city built on rebellion. This was the first place in Spain where the bikini was allowed during a literal dictatorship. This city was so «sinful» that the church actually put a giant Cross on the mountain just so Jesus could watch over the sinners.
There’s even a ghostly connection: Amy’s mother famously bought the guitar Amy used to write Back to Black in a shop just 50 minutes away from here.
Benidorm is crazy, yes. But it’s also a place to break free from morality and social mandates. It’s a place where a «Latina from Temu» can put on a beehive, sing her heart out, and find her purpose.
I’m not an impersonator. I’m a fan, a musician, and a woman who finally found a city as unapologetic as she is.