“I have this theory,” she tells me a few weeks after the L Word gig. “A contractor was going to do some work in my apartment, and I told him about our band. Well, he flipped out; he told me that he saw Zeppelin at Madison Square Garden in 1973. And this big contractor dude—this heavy-duty, heterosexual bricklayer—told me that Robert Plant was the only man he ever wanted to sleep with. My theory is that there were a lot of guys like this contractor: guys who were sexually turned on by Led Zeppelin, because Page and Plant were fucking beautiful. They were thin, they had long, flowing hair—they
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