Three decades on, she is still as much admired for her voluptuous lips and signature cropped coif as she is for her husky contralto, a voice that sounds steeped in lapsang souchong. Always alert to the power of visual narrative and the sheer fun of dressing up, Annie was a true karma chameleon (Boy George was an early fan), developing her own stylish mix of costume, rock star avatar, and just plain girly girl.

Photographed by Richard Avedon, Paolo Roversi, and Ellen von Unwerth, among other shutterbug superstars, androgyny à la Lennox never had it so sexy. The steely, blue-eyed gaze, the penchant for boldly colored maquillage, the cheekbones that could skin a polecat—all these conspired to make Lennox instantly recognizable, no matter if she was dressed like something out of a Toulouse-Lautrec or channeling Elvis in a liquid silver jumpsuit. You’ll be able to sample a little of both—and all the pink tulle and tartan plaid in between—at London’s Victoria and Albert Museum this Fall, when The House of Annie Lennox exhibition debuts on September 15 with a boatload of choice ensembles and ephemera from the icon’s coffers. Our sweet dreams are in fact made of this.