So, Michelle tells me, “I think I saw you in the new ‘Seattle Metropolitan’, that Brides of March thing.”
Weird. But I have worn the white wedding gown a couple of times for the traipse through Seattle streets to blissfully wed some phallic object or another in our landscape, so, it was entirely possible that my vestal-vixen-ish self was on the pages of this new Seattle mag.
Indeed, c’est moi.
Now I have to poke around and see what the scoop is for this year’s affair.
By the way, although I did wed the Space Needle and the Hammering Man (and some man named Tim), I am currently un-wed.
So, my friend Ivan Cockrum who is pretty much THE instigator of the Seattle chapter of Brides of March, passed along to me this review in “The Stranger” of the new rag, “Seattle Metropolitan”. I have to concur with Mr. Constant’s assessment, although Met, as Constant dubs it, does somehow seem the perfect voice for all those faux Cool kids who get smashed in Fremont these days.