Hansen: The luminous world of Sindee Bartz

She used to be a hairdresser but now wears wigs.

Flamboyant wigs to match her clothes. Clothes that are not just clothes but statements. Whimsical, iconoclastic statements that defy description.

And that’s the point: Sindee Bartz is in her own league.

Sindee — and she likes to go by Sindee — has been known around Laguna Beach for decades as an umbrella-toting muse. But make no mistake, the 61-year-old native of Detroit and daughter of a scientist is not a tourist-friendly icon who waves, smiles and poses for photos. There is a boundary around her, a force field of palpable but unpredictable energy.

If you manage, somehow, to get on her good side and talk to her, she tells inexplicable stories that can only be appreciated if you pay attention.

Smart yet coy, private yet extravagant, she is her own luminous dichotomy.

Her mind flits from one thing to the next at hyperactive speed, seemingly with no connection, but if you keep up, if you catch the quips and wry postulations, there is a crooked line to her meaning. You might not know it, but she leaves you intellectual breadcrumbs to find your way.

She doesn’t judge you for your cluelessness. She is either bemused or bored by you. If she is feeling generous, she will bend her head down and look at you over her sunglasses, allowing you to catch her dark, flint-like eyes.

It’s her way of accentuating a point.

You feel inferior in those moments because you accept that she is on a completely different level, one that you will never understand.

“I know so much stuff you wouldn’t believe,” she says, adjusting her hat, which is not so much a hat as a creation.

It’s a warm day but she is covered in wraps and scarves and layers of fabric. She has a closet brimming with options and puts a lot of thought into her outfits. She never seems to wear the same thing twice, which suits her.

“I could talk for five years straight and not tell you the same stories twice. I could tell you thousands of stories.”

Her story begins in 1952 in Michigan. Like a lot of families, hers — including a brother and sister — moved west. They arrived in Anaheim when she was 7, then moved to Newport Beach and ultimately Laguna Beach.

It’s important to note that she grew up Catholic but left the church in 1976, somewhat bitter. Still, she doesn’t stray too far from ecclesiastical leanings.

She believes in God and aliens.

“I’m here for the big G, God. God is in charge. God is going to rearrange the furniture.”

She’s not a street preacher by any means. She just believes in the things she somehow knows. Like when at 3:30 a.m., by a local market, she saw a spaceship. It had bright lights and hovered above her, then became like a line, collapsing into another dimension.

As she draws a picture of it on a notepad, she shrugs off skepticism because what you believe doesn’t matter.

“If you’re telling the truth, it will sound the same frontward and backward. All I can do is speak the truth. I don’t lie.”

She gives an example of why the world is going in the wrong direction.

She asks if you know about the floating mound of trash in the Pacific Ocean. But instead of calling it trash, she says it’s made up of condoms.

“It’s a giant mound of rubbers, condoms, floating out there as big as California. So if that ever floats onshore, I will call it the condom-nation.” She quickly giggles, as if it is the first time she told the joke.

And with that giggle, soft and childlike, you feel her innocence. She’s charming when she laughs.

There are things you don’t want to ask her though. You don’t want to pry. But you want to know why she is so different.

“I’m not manic depressive. I have Grave’s disease — hyperactive thyroid gland. They took out my thyroid gland about 20 years ago. They had me on all the wrong medications. They tried to kill me. I hate them all.”

She looks away, far away. Then she comes back.

“What was Jesus? A paranoid schizophrenic with suicidal tendencies.”

She giggles again, waiting for you to get the joke.

Sindee admits she’s done things that look bad on paper. She took a lot of LSD at one point. She had three husbands. She gave up a son for adoption.

It was the right thing to do, she said.

“I have been through lots of changes. Anything that was good is gone. Everybody’s passed away. All this stuff is at the bottom of the ocean.”

Despite it all, she feels resolved. She feels better than she has in a long time. She smiles more. She enjoys drinking coffee and reading the paper. She has friends who care about her.

“I’m here now, watching the clouds roll in. I don’t make plans anymore at all. I just float. I’m just floating for God. That’s my job.

“I’m happy now. I live by myself and I’m happy.”

DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at davidhansen@yahoo.com.