The other day I was reminded again that in certain local circles I am viewed as a wanton and dissolute femme fatale. I was already consulting with Mark Mitchell about summer travel plans and took the opportunity to lodge an indignant complaint about my reputation in this town.
He wrote You have become a dangerous libertine I’m afraid … I would hate to have to guillotine you come the revolution.
I replied If you have to guillotine me, could you at least make sure my hair doesn’t get messed up?
His answer? We will tie your hair up with a pretty ribbon before you receive the kiss of the blade.
Oh, how I miss Seattle! Bauhaus, August 2007:
