As I've said, I was a hick from the sticks.
Mark, a friend from high school, was one in a vanguard of people who would turn me on to the wide world of music. Post-punk music in particular.
Aside from his mixtapes bearing the likes of the Velvet Underground, he got me ordering from the Rough Trade Records USA catalog.
Meantime, someone was working in San Francisco, filling those mail orders & posting records to the hinterlands: Hilary, the bicoastal city mouse to us two country mice.
During our summer of discontent back home from college, she was our vinyl connection/muse/friendly crush and all around beacon of cool things happening in the big world.
scans slightly stalinized/click to make bigger . . .
And yes, the grass is always greener, even when the paper is pink . . .
This note probably piggybacked with one of my orders:
By summer's end, it was back to college (& college towns with better record stores).
Maybe for Hilary, too, since the next RT order was sent out by Bill.