It was 1977, I was days away from turning 12 and on summer vacation with my family in New Orleans. During a late afternoon walk along Bourbon Street my curious kid self glanced into a club and saw the lady I will never forget.

The lady with tassels.

And I was mesmerized.

She could make those things spin and not once did I see a speck of flesh move.

How did she do it?

What incredible muscle control.

She was doing the most impossible thing I had ever seen.

And my almost 12-year-old self stood there, frozen, and in awe.

Until my dad’s eye caught the bouncer’s eye, and without a word exchanged, we were told to move on.

Sometimes a moment can last a lifetime.

The moment watching the lady and her tassels did.

So, last year, more than three decades later, I was back in New Orleans.

And I went looking for that lady and her tassels.

But I found the doors to the clubs all closed.

The closest I could come to tassels was this store window.

But when the tassels aren’t moving, independently, and in DIFFERENT directions, and when you aren’t 12, well, the tassels aren’t so fantastic.

They are actually rather silly looking.

Tassels. My first urban moment.

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