Mazzy Star’s album, She Hangs Brightly, reminds me of the blood red crushed velvet baby-doll dress I used to wear all the time. It reminds me of the smell of strong coffee and Marlboro red cigarettes, Sandalwood perfume oils and incense.

It reminds me of Wilshire, the Winged Heat Cafe, and that last apartment we shared together. It reminds me of Julia as a baby with that bright orange fish stuffed animal that her Dad bought for her. He would talk to her in this made-up “fish voice” that sounded quite a bit like John Lennon. How that fish sometimes was the only thing to stop her crying on those nights when her teeth cut her gums and that upstairs apartment with no air conditioning was miserably hot.

It reminds me of staying up late, endless conversations, games of chess with Jill (and stolen kisses with her in the back of my old car). It reminds me of felt berets and my short haircuts, drinks made with gin, and trips to San Francisco.

It reminds me of endings and beginnings, of mistakes and broken vows, and of change. It reminds me of the girl I once was, and the parts of her that still tumble around inside of me, and how a song can bring her back so clearly.

It reminds me that I have forgiven her for her missteps and quietly applaud her sense of adventure. She helped the me I am now to be so much stronger.

Be My Baby :: Mazzy Star

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