A still from “The Disappearance of Shere Hite” (2023).
PHOTO: IRIS BROSCH
I met Shere Hite in a pub in Islington’s Chapel Market around 1990. It was a grim place and here was this superstar feminist who looked like she had stepped out of a Forties movie with her nipped-in waist, scarlet lipstick and extraordinary alabaster skin. She was there because she …
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