Born in Tacoma

Sleaze, delicious, short-lived and tempting appropriately sums up Place Pigalle – the French make sexe a vendre an art form. Behind it, however is the rue de Douai, where every wannabe picker, slapper and axeman finds whatever his heart desires and wallet permits. It’s all here. Antique guitars ( I was particularly taken with a very chirpy 1971 Gibson Blue Ridge) to the finest modern instruments the USA can provide. It’s a while since I saw an Eric Clapton D45 surrounded by almost all of its family. This is not a place for the ingénu or even the arriviste. In every store, those sampling the merchandise were serious players.
Qualified or not, I joined them, listening for the one with my name on it – a little number born in Tacoma, Washington.
We found each other.

2 thoughts on “Born in Tacoma

  1. Happy for you…pleasing when you find something that puts balm on the irritation left of one of hman's “burrs” -AD


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