Folk Bitch Trio

Concert

Them’s some True Blue folk bitches from Australia with a recording contract, mate

Three divas from Melbourne visit Elliott Smith’s old late-night haunt, then return for an encore

You’ll remember their songs

Shuffling into our booth, Gracie Sinclair marvels at the drink menu with her big, green, Betty Boop eyes. “Question: Is that a happy hour price?” I assure her $7.00 is the cost of an average cocktail in Portland, Oregon — the 32nd stop of Folk Bitch Trio’s debut world tour. “Old Crow whiskey, Baileys, and coffee topped with whipped cream…” she croons. Her bandmates Jeanie Pilkington and Heide Peverelle nod agreeably. The few rusty patrons at the bar crane their heads at the sound of their Australian lilts. They order tea and orange juice, but reassure me it’s not too early for a beer. “We’re a cheap date,” says Gracie. I have brought the Melbourne-based outfit to Elliott Smith’s old haunt, My Father’s Place, a dimly lit brick diner straight out of a Lynchian daydream. I gesture over to the red vinyl stool, the one in front of the taps where Elliott used to sit, which piques the interest of Gracie, who’s just divulged her profound preteen kinship with Kurt Cobain. “I love pathetic man …

Remedies

Italy’s All-Natural Antibiotic

Not just a pizza topping or an ingredient in red sauce, oregano — in the form of an oil — is an advanced multispectrum cure for infection, including zits, earaches, worms, parasites, and the flu.

It appears in the Book of Exodus as “hyssop,” and is named as an essential ingredient in purification rituals.

Dioscorides, the Greek physician, pharmacologist, and botanist who traveled as a surgeon with Nero’s army, was also a fan.

By Amanda Fortini

Fifteen years ago, when I first moved to Montana, I made friends with a woman named Trish, a talented collage artist who owned a boutique across the street from the building where I lived with my then-boyfriend, now-husband. Trish was in her early fifties at the time, but her tiny shop was a haunt for women of all ages, especially for female artists. I spent many afternoons in that meticulously curated jewel-box, exploring all the beautiful objects she’d lovingly assembled — little cups and saucers in bright hues, French hand creams in floral tubes, silver necklaces and earrings, paintings by local artists — but mostly I sat chatting with her and the other interesting women who gathered there. We’d talk about books and art, the vicissitudes of female hormones, and the capricious weather conditions on the mountain pass out of town. We’d share local gossip and hash over our relationships. From Trish, I learned where to find the prime hiking trails and hot springs, how to wrap a present …

Folk Bitch Trio

Critic's Corner

Italy’s All-Natural Antibiotic