From Redd’s college journal: “On the opening eve of Paris’ Carnival in Montmartre, I spent the evening with the revelers, dancing at the Moulin Rouge. From the bohemian city streets, the dance hall’s windmill had beckoned to me by day. Now, in the evening’s bright, garish lights, it glowed marvelously with the promise of the interior’s delights.
The details of the night are hazy. I remember sinking my teeth into a tangerine, offered to me by one of the attending ladies. And the Can-Can girls, their legs kicking ever higher, caused my heart to race with every step. It was not long before I joined the dancing throng, with lovely Olympia by my side, swirling her hot, shocking pink lace dress and spinning me faster and faster.”