Vale Cayte

My dear long-time friend Cayte Latta passed away last Friday, after a long illness. The memories of crazy times we shared come tumbling back at unexpected moments, but I can’t find the words yet to put them into much of a tribute — they’re more snapshots than an exhibition. Dancing ’til dawn at Sleaze, just after her first bout of cancer, laughing as we sat drinking coffee outside the Hordern, finding it hilarious that the non-chemical taker and the recovering ill one we were the last members of our crew standing! Minding her cats and her house when she went away. Doing a photo shoot for my entry in the Slit centrefold competition — we got people’s choice! Years of Monday night dinners with Liz and the family when Michael was ill, when we grieved for him, when she got sick, when she recovered. Her always trying to stuff me full of those weird juicy-vitamin pills. Shaving her head when her hair started to fall out the first time, and burying it in her front garden in Australia St. Her delighted bragging about all her famous ‘children,’ and playing ‘soccer mum’ to the stars.  Sitting around the table drinking wine at Passion Club, the events she ran at her house. Her 5oth birthday party, and her joy at still having both her tits for the occassion (see pic). Dress-ups in her bedroom. Running away from the house when she tried to make me watch L Word or Trinny and Susannah. Her recollections of early Mardi Gras days, and Wicked Women. Sitting in the sunshine at the hospice, her showering me with compliments and letting me know everything was okay somehow, guiding me through it…

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About Madame Moselle

Freelance provocateur. Enthusiastic optimist. Dancing bear. Believer. Facilitator of perversion. Disseminator. Libertine. Moth and flame. Rouser of rabble. Stirrer of pots. Bowerbird. Public spectacle.
This entry was posted in GLBTQQ (and the much disputed 'I'), Kith and Kin, Queer, Sydney, Whimsy. Bookmark the permalink.

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