In 1990, I’d started an exciting job as executive assistant to the director and chief curator of the not-yet-opened Museum of Contemporary Art in Sydney. On my first day, I was introduced to Peter, the museum’s talented publications manager. I smiled as I shook his hand, but he made no distinct impression.
As I settled into my role, I felt as if he was deliberately avoiding me. I chalked it up to his apparent conceit as, along with good looks, he had a swagger and confidence that made half the female staff infatuated with him.
