Two hours and many windy roads later, I pull up to her fairytale-sized, wood-paneled home, perfectly tucked away within the Highland Park hills. “The door is open, make yourself at home!” Wosinska texts as I follow the road to her front door. Upon entering her massive wooden sanctuary, I stop in my tracks in complete visual awe. Inhaling the scent of freshly lit incense, I admire the dozens of vintage keepsakes and rare relics that line the walls. An impressive collection of multicolored vinyl albums stand almost ceiling high next to a record player already spinning classic melodies. Feeling as if I entered a rock legend’s temple, I quickly begin scanning her home, absorbing each intricate detail fearing I’ll forget this truly original moment.