As a sociological descriptor, the term “icon” is rapidly eroding in meaning. Assigning such status to radar blips like Britney Spears or Paris Hilton (an entry on VH1’s recent “Top 200 Pop Culture Icons” countdown and an unsolicited self-description, respectively) seems to indicate that making a faint artistic imprint with large fiscal impact is all it takes to enter the pop-culture canon. Perhaps in the shallow end of the blogosphere, or within the consciousness of the average 19-year-old, this is a valid criterion—but in the realm of rock ’n’ roll, higher standards should be held.

John Waters once compared Blondie frontwoman Deborah Harry to Elvis, and even through the mischievous, sordid gaze of Waters’s perspective, this has merit. There were many artistically essential, personally powerful women in the early punk movement, but none rose to the level of critical acclaim and mass adoration that Harry achieved—and none has retained the wide-ranging and timeless influence that she continues to foster nearly 30 years after her band released their eponymous debut. Like any genuine icon, Harry’s presence is salient in the star-making personas and fashion choices of her followers, as well as in her musical benchmarks.

Her fashion impact should be obvious to anyone with two eyes who lives in a major American city. Harry may have been born brunette (and is currently a dark strawberry blonde), but it is the peroxide-saturated choice she made as a suburban New Jersey teen that seeded her platinum-blond persona. Taking the silver-screen sirens she idolized and dragging them into the Bowery gutter was the shrewdest move she ever made, at least from an image-casting standpoint, and the future inspiration for thousands of glamour-puss punks. Her thrift-chic wardrobe and tendency to destroy and reconstruct everything from the mini-dresses in which she writhed around onstage to the torn-and-safety-pinned T-shirts she wore in Punk magazine photo shoots remain de rigueur uniforms of modern followers like Kathleen Hanna, Peaches, and Karen O.

All this subversive window-dressing wouldn’t have a lasting impact if Harry’s cool sexuality, streetwise posture, and sly intelligence hadn’t been behind it. Perhaps in part because of her immersion in Andy Warhol’s circle, she made a critical choice to upend classic notions of seduction, calling upon both glamour-trash aesthetics and an obvious streak of self-sufficiency. While she was always visually mesmerizing, she never appeared to be trying too hard—an impressive feat when you also consider her age.

Deborah Ann Harry was born in 1945; Blondie formed in 1974 and became an international phenomenon in 1978 with the release of Parallel Lines. This means that Harry was 33 when “Heart of Glass” was climbing the charts and 35 when “Call Me” was providing the soundtrack for aspiring gigolos everywhere. Achieving initial success at such an age is virtually unheard of in the field of pop music today, with the exceptions of Garbage’s Shirley Manson and Gwen Stefani, both admitted Harry disciples. Unsurprisingly, Harry has never shied away from feminist constructs. In a recent interview conducted by Ana Matronic, the Scissor Sisters vocalist asked her whether she thought the recurrent death sentences being issued for feminism were valid. Harry simply replied, “How could it be dead? We’re all still alive.”

Alive she is, as is the (almost entirely) original incarnation of her band. As evidenced by their “Blondie Is a Group!” button campaign in 1979, Harry’s high profile regularly left her band in the shadows, an unfair obfuscation that undervalued the crucial contribution of drummer Clem Burke’s deliciously tom-heavy percussion, the mellifluous, expressive keyboard lines issued by Jimmy Destri (replaced on this tour by Kevin Patrick), and the assertive, fleet-fingered, guitar work of Harry’s soul mate*, Chris Stein. As a unit, Blondie negotiated the lines between punk and new wave as they bled together brightly in the late ’70s, and despite their pop pigeonhole, took impressive risks with reggae covers (1980’s “The Tide Is High”) and were among the first to pull hiphop flavors into the mainstream mix with “Rapture,” the number-one hit from Autoamerican. The most recent of their accomplishments? Induction into the 2006 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, taking their rightful place alongside like-minded New York peers the Ramones and Talking Heads.

Harry still appears lit from within when she’s onstage. Her voice is noticeably huskier, but it sounds more seasoned with experience than weathered by age. For a passionate punk diva who celebrated her 61st birthday this summer, such a graceful sense of longevity is not only impressive, it’s positively iconic.

*Though romantically separated for seven years now, the two remain incredibly close and enjoy a level of affection and respect similar to the Johnny Cash–June Carter romance.