Today I'd like to introduce you to Moondog, a low-boot that shares a very familiar design with our fabulous Gigi. Its 7 cm heel and the materials used in its manufacture are strong signals that you absolutely must have it.
Apart from that, Moondog is also the stage name of Louis Thomas Hardin, whose path I crossed a few decades ago when my friend Ilona Goebel asked me to let him stay at my house while he studied the great European melodists in search of the perfect tune.
When I saw him disembark at the Gare de l'Est, I was impressed by his stature - he was almost two metres tall - and by his attire too, for he wore a helmet with two horns on his head and a large leather cape covering him from shoulder to toe. I was just eighteen and at the time I'd just given birth to my son. So I was living in a studio barely bigger than a Renault Espace. But since my friend insisted, I managed to give him all the space he needed so that he could feel at ease in my little room with his giant xylophone, which he was never without. As he was blind and didn't know the city, he asked me to guide him to meet other musicians so that they could talk about their shared passion, sound research.Fortunately at the time I was working part-time in insurance for an irascible boss who spent his time yelling at me because I didn't understand his instructions. And the company of Moondog coupled with my newborn baby's first moments of life didn't help my understanding of anything. When my baby woke up in the middle of the night, my guest would take out his harmonica, accompany him and record everything on tape to create a bank of sounds for his future recordings, he'd tell me. Added to this was his almost daily consumption of Ayahuasca, a drink made from the wool of tropical trees, which enabled him to connect with his tutelary double, who watched over him from a parallel dimension.
As I was not easily frightened, as soon as my son was looked after by my parents, I was quick to try one of his preparations, the last of which almost kept me forever stuck in a world where I was a blue-eyed sea lion practising nuclear physics. Finally, after nearly a year at home, he returned to Germany, taking my son on loan while he taught him the rudiments of music theory and self-awareness. As he wasn't yet at school, I agreed, knowing that my friend Ilona would make sure that nothing untoward happened to him. That's why, a few years later, I wanted one of my creations to bear the name of this musician, recognised by all, sampled by all and studied at the most prestigious universities. A musician of whom you are at least familiar with Bird's Lament.