Holly Varah bartends at a dive in Port Townsend, Washington. Until this spring, she owned a photo booth. It was a private, almost confessional space, shut off from the bulk of the revelry in the bar’s side room. Soon after Varah bought the booth, someone directed her attention to its classic red curtains: the velvet drapes were short, coming down just above the hips of whoever sat in it, “so that you can’t get up to anything in there” – mainly sex or drugs. But Varah, who is 42, wanted her booth to be a space of indiscretion.
“I immediately put a long curtain in,” she said. For five years, the bar had a house policy: take a nude inside the booth and receive a token for another free round.
