What a blast from the past.  Farah and I went to the same hairdresser in New York.  His name was Enrique.  He was a little Mexican guy from the City of Angels.  That's where I think he got the inspiration for Farah's unique hair style.  She was a real angel in every sense. I was busy being an eccentric American artist even way back then.  I had no time to worry about taking care of my hair.  Wash and wear was my motto.  Farah told me once that she wished that her hair was as naturally curly as mine.  Farah had her hair high lighted to give the impression of a healthy sun soaked beach babe from beautiful sunny California.

We had a brief affair.  We were a stunning couple, a study of contrasts; Farah with her golden locks and the John Dog with his dark Italian curls.  The summer that we spent together was heaven. We swam all day in the waters of a private beach at her Malibu pad. We drank coffee and talked all night.  We shared our young hopes and dreams as we brewed the espresso beans.  The Fall came and we were invited to a Halloween party at Lee Majors place.  I made these big coffee cup hats out of soft foam.  It was hard to dance in them at the party, but they were a big hit.  Somebody saved them somewhere and they were sold at a charity auction.  Where they are now is a mystery.

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