As I’m figuring out what to wear one midweek morning, the phone rings in my room. An effeminate but irritated male voice asks, “Is that Shine-head O’Kahn-er?” I say, “No, this is Sinéad O’Connor,” just to wind him up. Then I ask him who he is. He says he’s Prince. Says he wants to send a car down for me later, and let’s hang out.
