Why does a native New Yorker, living in a Manhattan apartment high above the city, find herself boarding a westbound train to the Colorado Rockies in 1893? This is not about time travel, but about how one woman found her way, in fiction, to the Old West.
It started with a visit to The Laughing Ladies, a charming restaurant in Salida, CO. When asked how the restaurant got its name, the proprietor explained that I was dining in a former bordello. Definitely not an answer I would hear in New York City. The evolution of the space intrigued me. How does a brothel wind up a restaurant? I decided to create the answer. The story of The Laughing Ladies began.