In 1978, one year after I was widowed suddenly with two young children, I discovered the Mudd Club -- not far from my Pearl Street home -- in a loft building on White Street in Tribeca. I was grieving, restless, and looking for diversion. The place was a perfect hangout -- dance parties, punk bands, fashion shows, and avant-garde events that suited a mind and a soul trying to reconstitute itself. I went alone, somehow managing to be selected by the bodyguard/bouncer out front, probably because I...
In 1978, one year after I was widowed suddenly with two young children, I discovered the Mudd Club -- not far from my Pearl Street home -- in a loft building on White Street in Tribeca. I was grieving, restless, and looking for diversion. The place was a perfect hangout -- dance parties, punk bands, fashion shows, and avant-garde events that suited a mind and a soul trying to reconstitute itself. I went alone, somehow managing to be selected by the bodyguard/bouncer out front, probably because I...
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