You've Got Male
Went shopping with the boys today. Wait. Stop.
Shopping?
Boys?
Illogical, Jim. You're all gay, right?
Amusingly (amazingly?) not. Three straight guys out on the prowl for fashion. Dante, Kevin and I started with a trek to DDC (so that they could see what I did for two months, give it thumbs up or down (up) and because I wanted to visit Brad and Jose...) and while I talked to Brad and Jose they wandered the store in search of dope things to wear. Now, I've been trying to drag them shopping wtih me for several months now, at least since I started to go shopping recreationally. I snuck up on them while they were having lunch (they're often elusive prey) and tried to snap a photo of an unwashed Dante, who was having none of it. Instead, he gave me a picture (what you see on his page, no assembly required) of himself, and when I told them I was off to the store, they said what the hell and followed me. I've been trying to find people to go shopping with me for months, and finally someone agrees. It's a good start to the day.
So it was decided: shopping for the guys. First, DDC. I shoot the shit with Brad and Jose, the boys look at Jeans. We move on, venturing down towards Lafayette (Final Home, Nylon Squid and Center for the Dull) before venturing into Hell (SoHo on a Saturday) to try out Canal Jean and Club Monaco. At CM, I divulge to Kevin that I'm a boutique whore, and won't buy anything that I see the whole new media industry wearing. Kevin and I go off for coffee, while Dante shops at Canal Jean. I walked away with nothing purchased on the day (except an acceptable cup of Espresso) while Dante gets a top, and Kevin has an Ice Coffee.
At some point in the last several days, I've managed to bang up my foot. It's swollen, and my shoe is getting rapidly too small for the foot that ate my leg. Maybe it's elephantitis of the foot. Maybe I screwed it up kickboxing. Who knows. It's starting to bother me.
We continue walking up an ever more crowded Broadway on a Saturday. I'm snobby enough that I turn to Kevin and say "Get me off of this Jersey Girl hell hole of a street" which he does. Dante calls Hal, and we're gonna meet Hal at Sphere. Sphere's one of my favorite shops. The owner tells me that the clothing is meant for clubbing. The clothing I've see there is what I've always imagined fashion would become in the far future. So I generally drop a couple hundred bucks on some shirts. This time, I can't bring myself to buy anything, I think my foot is clouding my judgment.
Hal arrives, Hal style. Suggests I try on a powederpuff blue number with frilliness. I suggest Hal try certain things that are anatomically impossible. I ask if there's a photo of him that I could have. He tells me that I shouldn't even go there. Exactly the reaction I was expecting. So you never get to see Hal. Sorry. Just picture a reasonably hot guy. Whether or not he is one, I leave to your imagination.
We leave Sphere, and start walking to Astor Place, out of the way for me, because I'm heading back to DDC to ask Brad and Maria about making Swerdloff Dot Com shirts. Hal and Dante leave us, going to look for books at Tower. Kevin and I make plans to meet up later in the evening, and my foot gives out. I fall down, hard. Very uncomfortable. Don't know what it is, but it hurts. I limp lamely back to my apartment. I drop off the bricks in my bag (camera equipment, mostly) and trudge over to DDC.
Stopping, on my way, at a new store that opened 6 days before (A-Line?) selling shoes, Japanese gizmos, and things that the owners dub "cool." I buy the K&D sessions there, because I've been meaning to do that forever. The neighborhood is definately turning. What DDC started, ZAO, Freak, TimTom and A-Line are blowing up. It's nice from a shoppers perspective, but it's already starting the SoHoization process, the entry of the "Cool" and the discovery of anything by me signalling the beginning of its end. It's no longer d/l, it's becoming _THE_ place to be. It was NoLiTa for awhile, but now they're out of real estate there, and it's totally clean, and the Jersey-ites have started to overrun the place. I fear the same will happen to the LES, and as I said: I've started going to the neighborhood, and behind me comes the flood of "hipster yuppies" the new-media hordes and the investment bankers who want to sleep with models. Ignoring my overthinking of my day, I trek on to DDC.
When I get there, Maria's left, and Brad and Jose are helping customers. I hobble around the room, looking for things to buy (an unsuccessful shopping day annoying me more than the pain in my foot does) and finding nothing, I start to chat with Brad. Talk about his schooling, and working at the store, and how hard it is to balance school and work and still try to have a social life. I like Brad. He's from a totally different planet than I am (I don't love Vivianne Westwood, for instance) but we worked together and get along. I don't understand what makes the fashion world tick, but it's always nice to talk to him. He's a good kid. The first time we met, I was a patron, blowing in looking at sneakers and feeling like I owned the world. I think it was one of Brad's first days. He was helpful, and I was a touch rude. Eh. Happens. I came back later that night and got help from Lena (another beautiful DDC employee (do you sense a trend?)) and bought other things. This time, I was chatting with Brad and Jose when Dakota called my Cell, and I told her to meet me there.
When Dakota showed up, I was explaining to Jose the difference between Jews and Christians. Must've been a bit surreal.
Jose: So, who built the pyramids?
Me: A slave race.
Oy.
So Dakota and I went off to dinner. 7a. Last time I had dinner there was with the guys from Camp, and that was when I first saw Betsy again. Dinner was Filet Mignon. Happiness. We talked about our various bizzare old times, plans for the future, general catching up stuff. Went back to my apartment and searched the 'net for mention of people we know. Sherlock is a mighty advance is search technology, yay Mac Os.
We were killing time before her friend Sharon's party. Which was at Ace bar. Yet another bar I intend to not return to.
Kevin called again. Standing in Ace and my pocket starts to wobble. Very disconcerting. Realizing that it's my phone and not a wasps nest, I New Media out and pick up. "Hello? Kevin ? Ace Bar. Yeah, ratio's pretty bad, we're gonna need to find a different place to go, I'm thinking. 20 minutes? Fine. I'll be the one looking incredibly snooty and bored. You'll recognize me, you saw me earlier today."
Kevin eventually shows up. I've heard rumors earlier of a party at Lemon bar, featuring Jasmina and Liz and their friends. I'm fairly sauced at this point, been drinking for four hours. I have the bright idea (with my busted foot) that I'll go with these two to Lemon, apologize to Liz, give birthday wishes to the birthday girl, and play it from there. Lemon is on Park Ave South. I hate everything that exists north of 14th street. It dawns on me when we get there that this isn't going to work out. I can't find the two people I know in this cavernous establishment, and the vibe is a certain "Have you got enough money to keep me happy if you take me home tonight and I play with your penis" that I really can't stand. Beautiful women trading on that, lame guys trading on their money. Plech.
So we leave Lemon, mission failed. Damn. And I wanted to apologize to Liz in person, let her hit me upside the head if necessary, but just actually apologize to her. Damn.
Heading out, we try Liquids, which Kevin gets in to by showing no fear and walking straight past the bouncers. Being nowhere near as cool as Kev, I get on the line with Dakota, and we stand smirking at Kevin 's brashness. He returns moments later with the announcement "Too Crowded"
We leave, off to Standard, for more Vodka based libations. Standard is pleasant, reasonably empty, and has this aura of "You just aren't cool enough to be here" or something that seems to keep the masses well at bay. There's enough room for us and a very nice vibe in the place, but Kevin can't get into it, and he realizes too late that a Martini is exactly what he doesn't want. We leave there too, off for Pizza.
At Pizza, I tell Kevin of my crush on his girlfriend senior year, and yell at him for not telling me that they were dating until many months in to my having a crush on her. It sort of slipped out one day, "Oh, yeah, we're dating" and then boy was there egg on my face. Apparently, we both got over it. Never let a woman come between friends, unless the woman is about to come, between friends. It's a motto I'd like to think I live by, although I know that I've had girlfriends end friendships, but never the other way around. I'm working on it. Kevin left, and Dakota came home with me.
In other news:
Was this anyone else's life?
Does anyone else find it terrifying how easily pigeonholed we're becoming, at least, easily pigeonholed by the sucksters?
Ethan went to a wedding. Not his own. With any luck, he caught a bridesmaid.
Posted by Swerdloff at October 16, 1999 05:09 PM
