A whole new redneck world opened up in front of me; songs about trains and bars and jails became my new Top 10, and all I wanted to do was impress Chris with some country knowledge. If I could drop the title of Loretta Lynn’s latest effort in one of our piddling conversations between sets, I felt a silent humble victory. I wore less and less makeup and took to frequenting Nudie’s, a country-western clothing store, looking for the odd cowboy trinket to countrify my outfit.
