It was a red scarf. Red and wool. The girl had it pulled tight
around her neck and folded over in the front like an over-sized,
warm and toasty neck tie.
This was in London in 1998. I was a skinny, long-haired,
trench-coat-wearing quasi-goth bouncing my way around town, seeing
way too much theatre and interning for Norma Heyman: the tough old
“bird” who had produced “Dangerous Liaisons.”
And I was obsessed.
Obsessed with *The Scarf.*






























