In September 1996, Depp was preparing for his iconic role as Hunter S. Thompson in the upcoming film adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Thompson was in Los Angeles for a scheduled speaking appearance and interview at the Viper Room. Minutes before he was due to go on, a typically erratic Thompson refused to take the stage unless Depp joined him. John Cusack, who had dropped by to visit, was quickly “shanghaied” into participating in the madness as well.

According to later retellings from Depp’s perspective and various Hollywood lore, the adventure began when they took to the streets with an inflatable sex doll. The three men crammed into a small convertible, inching down Sunset Boulevard. Thompson was reportedly spilling whiskey everywhere while proudly towing a life-sized blow-up doll (whom he sometimes referred to as “Ling Ling”).

Lore suggests Thompson decided it was the doll’s birthday. The trio reportedly carried her into local dive bars, took photos with patrons, and sang “Happy Birthday” to her. As they approached the venue to park, Thompson abruptly decided the right move was to hurl the defenseless inflatable doll directly into the heavy Sunset Strip traffic.

The stunt caused a massive screeching of tires from startled drivers, paired with a “horrified, ultra-high-pitched scream” from Thompson himself. Police allegedly received reports of a man “mercilessly beating a blow-up doll” in the middle of the intersection, though Thompson managed to escape with just a warning.

After retrieving the doll from the street, the trio calmly walked inside and took the stage at the Viper Room. The bizarre evening, which included Thompson manhandling the doll on stage while being interviewed, was partially captured on film and later featured in Wayne Ewing’s 2003 cinema verité documentary, Breakfast with Hunter.

According to the archives of legendary arts photographer Jack Mitchell, this particular shoot was commissioned for After Dark magazine (eventually published in May 1977). Mitchell often recalled a stark contrast between this first session and their later collaborations. Streep was relatively unknown to the general public. She arrived at Mitchell’s Manhattan studio completely on her own, taking a standard yellow taxi. Mitchell shot a beautiful series of portraits of her, capturing a raw, fresh-faced charisma.

Just two years later, when The New York Times magazine assigned Mitchell to photograph her again, everything had changed. This time, she arrived at the studio in a limousine, flanked by a publicist and her longtime makeup artist, J. Roy Helland.

The images from that August 1976 session showcase Meryl Streep with her signature long blonde hair, minimal makeup, and an effortlessly luminous, candid presence. They stand as a definitive visual record of an icon on the absolute precipice of fame.