On a relentlessly rainy day in Santiago’s Nuñoa District, Pamela Sepúlveda is getting ready to perform. She’s wearing a big black sweater with silver beading and black leggings. She has long, messy hair, and looks more Brooklyn than Chile. This is still a socially conservative country, and most women are still dressing like it’s 1996: scrunchies and shoulder pads.
Behind the synthesizer are box upon box of old records, CDs, books about graffiti, record players and turntables. There’s a poster of the 1980s dystopian cult film Blade Runner on the wall.
