“You know,” observed a recent dinner guest, glancing around our living room between sips of his digestif, “there are a lot of strong women in this apartment.”
I follow his gaze toward the massive tangerine-on-yellow She-Ra painting that anchors one end of the room—a tough lady if there ever was one. Then, over to the poster for Pedro Almodóvar’s Todo Sobre Mi Madre—the madre here a primary-colored, Picasso-lite Cecilia Roth—on the opposite wall. The superhero and super-mom, their eyes locked, seem unimpressed with present company. Broadening the scan, I pass over photographed gypsies, lithographic courtesans, cartooned drag queens, and a bowler-hatted Grace Jones who looks irritated, probably because she still doesn’t have a frame. From the coffee table, Kylie Minogue, Yoko Ono, and a legendary ballroom voguer all stare up from their book covers with varying degrees of attitude.