Last time I was in New Orleans, our cab drive casually mentioned that the nightclub we just passed in the French Quarter was Gennifer Flower's place. Her rich husband got it for her so she'd have somewhere to sing her sultry jazz ballads.
Gennifer-with-a-G-Flowers? One of President "Pimpin'" Clinton's mistresses? A nightclub singer? This we had to see. The next night she was scheduled to perform we went down to The Kelsto Club and found her looking resplendent in a white gown. Her mother was there as well. I approached her with Mrs Fab's 35mm camera and asked for a picture. She gravely eyed me, and asked, "Who are you with?" I was a bit taken aback: "I'm with...myself." She turned down my request and I slunk back to our table.
Later, she joined our table and explained that our camera looked so professional she assumed that I was a tabloid photographer, but after seeing us drinking and socializing she realized we were regular folks and happily posed for pics. I bought a drink that came in a souvenir shot glass shaped like red lips. And a fine time was had by all.
Sorry, no mp3s for y'all this time - don't think she recorded anything. Even her website is down. It was up the other day...