Who is this girl in the auburn locks?

Who is this girl in the auburn locks? Does anyone know?



I met her at a party the other night. We had a long conversation about the power ballad. But my attention was divided. Patti Smith was in town. And every time the doorbell rang I got my hopes up just a tiny bit. Auburn locks sat on a sofa next to a tiger calm as could be, beneath a seahorse lamp across the room from a rack of records next to a rack of antlers. There were at least four record players in the room. They played early Led Zeppelin and early George Michael, but wisely not at the same time.



The hostess was a leggy redhead with a way words and closet full of dresses. Guest girls came and went in them, passing each other with bare-armed polyester swishes up and down the not-quite-spiral night-blue stairs. In the kitchen canapés were served: swordfish squares and sliced duck skewers. I met this blond on the way to the bathroom who didn’t seem to know anyone. Then what are you doing here? There was a Pop Montreal poster on the doorway. So you just wandered in? Patti never wandered in. By the time I made my way back from the bathroom the girl with the auburn locks had up and disappeared. I’m fairly sure the tiger on the sofa was to blame.


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