Alter

A few years ago, after a bunch of rugs had been pulled, I walked into Dana Trixie Flynn’s yoga class in the Flatiron district of New York City.  Off the street, through a weirdly corporate lobby, up an elevator, I opened a door with a neon pink Laughing Lotus sign to another world. Bright, playful, almost cartooney murals of gods and goddesses cover the walls of a long hallway into this kind of yoga Disneyland meets church. A huge yoga center by New York City standards that’s been going strong for 20 years, with 3 different studios, a huge teaching staff, a big free candy bowl of stick on bindees and rub-on gold tattoos. somehow, there’s always glitter stuck to your feet when you put your shoes on to leave. You know when Dana’s in the building because of her laugh, which of course she dropped as a sound check—a loud, over the top, invitation and welcome mat to let it all hang loose. There’s a lot of New Orleans in that laugh. More on that later. Her get up’s are as vivid and crazy as her tattoos, full sleeves