He comes to Les Bains in a limo. The rumors precede him. Crowds outside, just as crowded inside. He has dinner, no rush, then goes down to the club, leaving a strong trail of heady perfume. Tuberose, tonka bean, patchouli and woody amber. He climbs onstage. For fun and for free. For the pleasure. For the club. For those who happened to be there. A concert! Total magic. It is raining sounds, colors, scents. How many artists, how many dreamlike moments came to life that year at Les Bains?
