When did I get so clean?
Has my semi-retirement from festival life turned me neurotic?
I used to run up the racks on dry shampoo. Bottles of Batiste and Dove and Pssssst! clanked around in Coach purses to save the day as I compulsively stroked my waist-length mane. Full weeks would pass without a wash and I’d measure time by the granularity between my fingers. White. Chalky. I felt powerful—Dia Becker: non-con…