“Oh, no. That’s okay,” I said, looking around for something else to experiment on or play with.
We passed by Paisley Park on the way to Prince’s house in Chanhassen. I wasn’t prepared for the sheer size of it. I knew the song “Paisley Park,” of course, and when I asked Prince what it was about, he told me, “It’s my studio where I record and work.” This was before the days of Google, so I had no mental picture of it, but I knew it the moment I saw it. It was off by itself, surrounded by rolling slopes and tall fir trees, very different from any other corporate structure I’d ever seen. The white walls and tinted glass soared like an ice sculpture above the snow-covered landscape. Once again, I felt myself consciously separating the enormous reality from the calm, quiet voice of my friend on the phone. I didn’t want to lose him in all this.
The driver took a right off the main road onto a long, curving trail. Later, when I lived in Minnesota and worked at Paisley, I used to ride my bike with my little dog Mia in a basket on the handlebars, cruising along without fear that a car might come around the bend. Eventually, neighborhoods started springing up around us, but back then, there was nothing but snow and woods until we came to a guardhouse and a pair of wide gates that slowly swung open for the limo.
Prince’s house was repainted a different color on a regular basis, and a new car—whatever was latest and greatest, preferably a BMW—was custom painted to match it. Things would stay whatever flavor he was into for a year or two, and then the whole thing—his whole life, really—would undergo a change of wardrobe. The last week of December 1990, the first time I visited him at the house that would eventually be our home, the exterior was electric blue and rose-hip pink. Two years later, I arrived to find it canary yellow with purple accents. You can see the matching yellow and purple car in the “Sexy M.F.” video. When we were married, he had the place redone white and gold, and you can see the matching car in the “Betcha by Golly Wow!” video.
When I lived in this house, I always came and went through the garage, but guests came and went via the big front door. Prince met me in the foyer with a smile and a hug and gave me the grand tour. The living room was woodsy and masculine with a heavy oak staircase and high-beamed ceilings like an upscale log cabin. I’d grown up in modest one-story houses and small military apartments, so to me at that time, it seemed very grand, but on the spectrum of rock star houses I’ve been in since then, Prince’s house in Chanhassen was very much a normal person’s house.
In the living room, there was a lavender grand piano that looked warm and well played. Next to it was an enormous Christmas tree with all the typical decorations. In the dining room, linen-covered chairs were placed around a circular table. In the kitchen, the fridge was full of water bottles and meals made by a chef. Everything was in its place—a cookie jar on the counter, a selection of tea and honey bears in the cupboard, a supply of Tostitos that he always kept handy.
Walking down the hallway, his boots made a particularly musical sound on the terra-cotta tiles. There were metal ornaments at the backs of the ankles—a combination of the symbols for male and female—and they jingled like spurs. The distinct sound of his footsteps became so familiar to me; I still hear it occasionally in my dreams.
He took me to the guest room where I would be staying, and it was like the bedroom in Under the Cherry Moon—all champagne-colored silk and plush pillows, crystals, and white carpet—exactly what I had dreamed as a kid. I would be using the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between the guest room and his office, which was a serious workspace with a big, mirrored desk. It also had gold leaf and crystals and all the foo foo décor I’d seen in the hotels, along with the harlequins I’d seen in Purple Rain.
We went up to his room, which I immediately recognized as the room re-created in the hotels where I’d visited him. It was windowless, but carefully lit in a tasteful, sensual way that could be adjusted for the occasion. There were no windows, so it could be dark during the day. On the heavy console headboard of the bed, there were candles, beads, and more harlequins. The thick carpet, huge bed, fireplace, veils, lava lamps, dandelion lamps—they all made it feel like a genie’s haven, so I found it strangely comforting to see that his bathroom was stocked with regular things like toothpaste and mouthwash, but not like a regular guy’s bathroom; he had Oil of Olay, fancy soaps, and distinctly feminine perfumes.