When I was sixteen, unjaded, and still taken off-guard by the wonder and spontaneity of the world; I went to Los Angeles for a week with friends. During this time, I had the opportunity to converse with the genuine one-of-a-kind weirdo that was the magical Kim Fowley. He called my friend Hunter and I ‘two little cherry bombs’, told us about discovering Joan Jett, before subsequently inviting us to a drag queen/strip club on Hollywood boulevard. Being sixteen at the time, Hunter and I never took him up on his offer, but regardless… that conversation with him remains one of my favourite memories. I am a little sad today. I think I’ll go and watch The Runaways. RIP Kim. What a character you were.