Five hours after I'd started visiting some of Jean-Paul Gaultier's favorite places in Paris, a woman I did not know grabbed my manhood.
I'd gone up to Montmartre to buy a ticket for the following evening's show at the Moulin Rouge, the colorful if over-touristed cabaret whose gaudy charms have long held sway over the imagination of the designer we associate with Madonna's cone bra and the male skirt.
Advertisement