The Descriptionist

The Mudskipper

2011-03-17T09:57:00.004-04:00

At my best friend's wedding, I gave a speech that centered on cars and girls. Two things that have bonded us since we were 12. We've talked about both consistently over the years - not sports, not politics, not fashion, not work just cars and girls (now wives). He's got the better collection now but a long time ago, I was the one with the headstart.

Every teenager growing up in the Midwest dreams of one thing - a car. Not everyone cares about sports though most do. Dating in private is only possible with wheels. If you were unhappy at home as all teens are, long drives to nowhere were a great tonic. It was no different for me. The shame of my mother picking me up after school or practice grew by the day. I was the only student in my class not yet driving and I was without any friends who were willing to carpool out of their way. My life felt stunted.

In my home state, you could get a driver's permit six months before you were 16. The law was that you had to pass a written test and drive with passenger that have had their license for more than 2 years. Realizing I was rapidly approaching that age, seeking to drive with my parents - it was somehow concocted that having my own car would be better since I could practice without borrowing the family car. Practice was really just driving up and down the street and gradually within the confines of the neighborhood. No main streets, no stop lights and nothing over 25 miles per hour. So with great anticipation I awaited for the best Christmas present to come into my non-denominational life in February.

Unbeknownst to me, the idea wasn't hatched so as to help me learn how to drive in the relative safety of my own slow car. It was much more machevellian. My father wanted to spend nothing to buy a car, in fact he didn't want to even buy a car since it would inevitably include insurance, oil changes, part replacements, and all manners of repair of damage I would inflict on said machine. But an opportunistic colleague was relocating to a foreign country and wanted to get rid of his car. Maybe my father would take it off his hands for $800? That winter, Bob drove up our short driveway to officially hand over the car. It was a ten year old Honda Accord Coupe. Somehow, it was in superb shape for it's age. Best of all, the car only had 80,000 miles. It had literally been Bob's college car and he'd kept it all these years for sentimental value. It was the first car he bought with his own hard-earned money plus, he hadn't really driven it for the past half decade.

The Mudskipper was going to be a slow and obviously dated car. The temperature controls meant very little in extreme weather. Rain meant water in the car, wind meant more noise and the clutch was really an anvil. It had power steering, no power locks, no power windows, a stick shift, two doors and a hatchback. It was the color of wet riverbank sludge with two thin gold pinstripes on the side panels. The bumpers were a worn matte black plastic. The equally brown cloth upholstery just re-affirmed the seriousness of the color scheme. Still, it ran forever on a single tank of the cheapest gasoline, the lack of electrics meant nothing could go wrong .The stereo wasn't even top of the line when it was brand new, though it did come with 4 speakers. I came to like the old cassette player and the nuances of a manual radio dial. The sound was terrible but other than having no bass, Public Enemy was still frantic and angry.

My first task was getting the car into first gear. The first day was complete frustration and bone-jarring engine fits. Finally, I managed to start the car and not stall immediately when I released the clutch. Reverse gear took another day. On the third day I managed to drive out and then back into our driveway. Second gear came faster. I didn't get much beyond that for the next two months. Just driving out of my driveway, up the street, doing a three point U-turn, then back again repeatedly at 20 miles per hour was exhilarating enough.

Soon though, I was 16 and I started my adventures with the Mudskipper in earnest. It may have been short, brown, slow and ugly but it moved and that was all I needed. The prospect of wheels trumps all else. It didn't matter that the car wasn't a looker, or that it lacked every basic creature comfort, or that it was deliberately designed to go slow. I drove it to school and back every day. And tried to use my newfound fortune to ramp up my social life.

By chance, one of the prettier girls in my class needed a ride to a volunteer event one evening. She casually asked to carpool with me and I acted like I had done similar acts of kindness when I agreed. Her introduction to the Mudskipper was relatively tame. I picked her up from her place and we had idle chit chat. On the way back, she was more comfortable and her usual spritely self. She asked me to turn up the music - P.E., because I wanted to impress her. And the puny high pitched speakers wheezed like a grandmother lecturing little brats. Disappointing yet still interesting she remarked. Then she decided that I should drive faster to show her what the car could do. The next stoplight, we were lined up with a Mustang. She wanted to race him. I hesitated. She reached over, honked the horn, and gestured to the Mustang that we were racing. He quickly revved up his engine. I did mine. At green we both took off. As expected, the Mustang took off much faster. All the yelling and screaming didn't work though she ended up laughing furiously and we got a thrill just by being in that impromptu drag race. The Mudskipper may have been slow and tone-deaf but it still managed to make a pretty girl smile and laugh.

My first driving year with the Mudskipper, I made no upgrades or modifications and there was no damage small or large. There were no trips out of the city, and no adventures worth noting. It was a very reliable and economical high school car. At the end of that first year, as a reward for responsible driving and good grades, my parents traded in the Mudskipper for a brand new car. I believe the dealership gave us $1500 for it. A tidy profit. I never saw that car again.

22

2011-01-21T11:13:00.001-05:00

I was fresh out of college and working in my first job. Well, my second job technically but we're splitting hairs here. For the purposes of my resume today, that second was my first. I was an account executive at the biggest ad agency in town, and I was in the group that generated the most revenue. So, in the eyes of the ad world and my relatives who cared, I was off to a good start.

The problem was I was the new guy on the team and I had the clients that generated the least amount of revenue. In terms of overall client rank, mine were at the bottom. Which meant that within this group, I was nobody. Though outside the group, I lived off the aura of said group, but everyone knew that I was the runt of the litter.

It came therefore almost as a decree from Zeus when I got the call. I was being tapped to work on our agency's largest account. And not only that I was still going to just report directly to my Group Account Director. And! I was going to be working on the client's most technologically advanced product. Praise to Mount Olympus, my chariot had come after all.

I was all of 22.

So I get to my first meeting with our clients. It was my boss, the Group Account Director, the client's Marketing Director and her Senior Brand Manager. There was also a technical manager there who started us off by explaining this new product. I thought it was relatively simple actually. But this was back in the 90's and tech was a foreign word still to most commoners.

I wanted to impress badly. I wanted to prove I belonged in that room. And as luck would have it, my previous first job (now forsworn but then acknowledged freely) had me working with this client's direct competition. It was not quite the same bells and whistles, but conceptually I had a very good grasp. Which meant I was going to open my mouth. I asked, I answered, I poked, I prodded, I espoused; just stopped short of proclaiming. I might have beamed a little. I was wise beyond my 22 years.

My boss had asked me to wait in the lobby while he finished some outstanding conversations with the marketing director. I think I had two cigarettes while waiting. It was a short car ride back.

We were walking in the office corridor. Past the receptionist, past the keycard entry door. Right after the door closed, he turned around to face me.

"So, I spoke to the clients after our meeting. Overall, they liked you, they thought you were smart and very enthusiastic"

I guess I didn't realize it was an audition but that I had passed so what did it matter.

"One thing though". His eyes sharpened.
"You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. You talked too much and I don't want that to happen again. "

I was 22.

To this day, I can replay that scene in my mind like it just happened. That walk back to my desk never felt longer.

It's been the best lesson of my corporate career.

Early

2011-01-19T17:42:00.002-05:00

Teeth are clear. Hair is in place. Tie is straight. Hands are dry.

Steve took one last look at himself in the mirror, and he was ready. Well, as ready as he was going to be. He slowly unlatched the lock on the bathroom door, and walked out of the Starbucks – making sure to look both ways as he crossed the street and entered the building lobby. A quick show of identification to the security guard on duty, and he was ready to board the elevator. The ride to the thirty-fifth floor was a lot faster than he had anticipated. In a matter of seconds, the doors opened, and he was at the reception.

“Hi. My name is Steve Howard, and I have an appointment with Cindy Long at ten.”

“Have a seat and she’ll be right with you. “

“Thanks.”

Impressive office. Bright and airy, and all these modernist touches, he thought. The life-size Darth Vader sure didn’t do anything to detract from the cool factor. Who put a life-size Darth Vader figurine next to reception anyway? What kind of an office was this? Anyway, what did it matter? He was here for an interview, and he needed a job. Any job. Times are tough and this was the only interview he could get after six weeks of sending resumes non-stop. The bloodletting had to end, and it better end today.

"Steve? Hi, I'm Jen, Cindy's assistant. She's ready for you now. Would you follow me?"

"Great. Thanks. Impressive office by the way"

" Yeah, our CEO is a huge architecture buff and designed everything himself."

"Cool"

"Here we are. This is the CEO's office, but he's out this week. Have a seat and she will be right with you. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thanks."

It was the most impressive office that Steve had ever laid eyes on. It was easily bigger than his apartment, and it was a true corner office with a view of Central Park. Central Park! Damn. Must be nice to walk in to this every morning. The opposite side of the office was dominated by floor to ceiling mirrors. It reflected that same magnificent view of Central Park, only it had a wood bar across the middle. That was odd, he thought. Wait a minute, those are ballet bars. What is going on here?

He took a quick look at the door. Well, there were two doors. One from each corner of the office. Two entrances. That was a first for him. Both had a sleek metal disc that looked like a giant stainless steel frisbee affixed on the mirrored wall. And in between those two doors was what appeared to be a hidden panel. I wonder what was behind that, he curiously wondered. Well, no one was around. Steve got up and two the three quick steps towards the panel and gave it a slight push. The hinge creaked a little, and with the small opening, a hidden secret was revealed. A bathroom. The guy has his own personal bathroom. Now that is cooler still. Of course, the ballet bar is still there, but hey, no one is perfect.

Quickly, he pulled the door shut, and sat back into the Wassily chair. Mental note. Make a point to mention that he likes the Wassily chair. That design history class really came in handy - who was the designer again? What else do I say other than the view and the chair? He started to make a list of all the points of interest in the room. View, mirrors - wait was that too obvious? Scratch the mirrors. Chair, the Noguchi coffee table. The awards. That was it really right? Right. Not too much. He was there to talk job not design.

More minutes passed. Still no interviewer. This is strange. Why hasn't anyone come in? Slowly he began to let his mind loose. Is there a camera in here? Are they watching me? His eyes darted around every corner of the room. No, protuding lenses. The computer? Screen's not pointed at him. Teddy Bear-cam? Hidden between the awards and the books? Not that he could tell from his seat five yards away. Ok. Now he was starting to sweat. He could feel the dams slowly opening and the deodorant was kicking in. His palms no longer dry. This was stupid. I'm here for an interview not Punk'd. Still more time was passing, and every second brought another morsel of panic.

A good twenty minutes later, he heard footsteps. Mercy.

It was Jen.

"Steve? I'm sorry but Cindy can't make it today."

"Oh, ok. Should I come back later today or should I reschedule for later in the week?" He really needed the job.

"Um. I don't think she'll be available any time soon. But let me check and see what is possible."

"I'm sorry. Wait. What do you mean what's possible? So, I'm not getting the interview?"

"Well, Cindy just went into labor, and she's going to be on maternity leave. I'm not sure what her plans are for the position, and I'm going to have to get back to you."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, she's early."

"Oh."

"Here's my card. Why don't you e-mail me tomorrow, and I will see if I have an answer for you."

"Oh. Ok. I'll e-mail you tomorrow then." Repeating her instructions because fog had moved in.

"Let me walk you out"

"Thanks. I'll e-mail you tomorrow then."

"I'm so sorry"

"It's ok. I'll e-mail you tomorrow then. Thanks."

Subway Star

2011-01-07T08:39:00.004-05:00

Woman 1/7/11

I wish Scott Schuman was there to take her picture. That's how good this look was. Literally from head to toe.

First the toes. They were encased in turquoise cowboy boots. The best part? Each had a prominent large white star with red outline debossed onto the the front of the boot. Her boot tips were distressed and dark, possibly from the first snow that was falling this morning, but given the salt stains on the sides, it was more likely that these were no snow virgins. On their own, these boots were already making a statement.

Interestingly enough, her scarf was this large New York Red Bull team scarf. Red polyester on one side, and blue on the other. The team logo was featured prominently, and she was evidently not ashamed to be sporting the team colors.

Given that she was on the waifish side, it wasn't surprising that she was clad in skinny jeans. The fact that there were these bold zippers on the inside of the jeans - they were almost a continuation of the statement started by the boots. On her fingers though were oatmeal wool fingerless gloves. No nail polish.

She was bundled the entire time in her black wool overcoat. Military-inspired, double-breasted and epaulets on the shoulders. I think she knew it was a plain winter coat because on her right breast area, she had decorated the coat with a cluster of three pins. Two buttons and one broach. The buttons? One was the Union Jack with "Anarchy". The other was placed upside down deliberately and after much investigation, this seemingly political pin actually said " United We Bargain. Divided We Beg". The broach? A pair of lips outlined with rhinestones. Individually, each says something. Collectively, I'm not sure but it made for a great addition to her coat.

Of course, the hair was an essential part of her look as well. She had bangs and a shoulder length poofy style. Think Supremes and not Snooki. Her chestnut locks were quite voluminous, and just about overpowered and covered the blue hoodie.

And what woman's look is complete without the bag? It was a vinyl travel bag with a shoulder strap - reminded me of the old Pan Am bags that were so ubiquitous in my youth. White with blue accents, and distinct use markings and stains all over. When I finally caught a glimpse of the logo on the front, it said " Jetsave. The Transatlantic Holiday People". Do a search.

Finally, her face? Cherubic. Very young. Innocent bordering on angelic.

The main question that lingered was? How old was she? High school? College? And did she consciously know she had a style? What did her friends think? What did her enemies think?

Thom Browne on the Subway

2010-03-19T16:48:00.005-04:00

R Train
- headed uptown
- 3/19. 1:17 pm

I got on at the Canal Street station and I kid you not, sitting right there in front of me was Thom Browne. Not a facsimile, but the actual superstar designer himself. Not that one doesn't see Thom Browne around NYC. I've seen him at parties and of course walking around Soho, the Meatpacking District and once in the Garment District. But this was the NYC subway.

He was dressed - well, you know how he was dressed. I was ready to write this long description but its not necessary. The point about Thom Browne is that he is dressed the same everyday with few variations. I did notice that his shirt cuff buttons were undone, though they could have been French and just without links.

It was cool and weird at the same time. Cool well, because he's Thom Browne and he's in the subway. Weird because I was in my own version of the look - no socks and folded pants cuffs, but next to him I look like I'm dipping a toe in the pool of style while he is just dripping in fashion's oh-so-cool waters. Next to him, most mortals, let alone me, look uncool.

So, what did I do?
I wandered over to sit right across from him.
Made eye contact.

"Thom Browne takes the subway, huh?"
"Yes" came the reply

The Color of Money

2010-03-17T18:04:00.002-04:00

Saint Patrick's Day

What happened? St. Paddy's Day used to be some drinking, and some wearing of green. Now, it's all drinking and wearing of green and apparently orange as well just in case Northern Ireland feels left out.

Seen on the subway:

- Green Eyeshadow
- Green Plastic Leprechaun Hat
- Green Fabric Scottish-inspired Soccer Cap
- Green and Silver Mardi Gras-inspired Beads
- Green Feather Bunny Ears
- Green Tees of every Style
- Green Scarf
- Green Handbag
- Green Socks
- Shamrock Earrings ... obvious color.

Is the vomit also green?

Snow Drive - pt 1

2010-03-01T12:58:00.003-05:00

The cancellation flashed across the laptop screen and the choice instantly popped into my head. The flight to Charlotte tomorrow morning was now canceled, and I wasn't going to make my very-important meeting. Well, on the one hand, I could have made a few calls and see about getting the meeting re-scheduled for a different day. Of course, nothing is ever so black and white. Logic doesn't apply when money has been invested, people from other parts of the country are awaiting your arrival, the meeting had already been postponed from two weeks ago, and the window was closing - very, very fast.

The weather outside my window looked exactly as the forecasters had predicted. Snow everywhere, winds whipping and visibility like McMurdo Station. A quick check on Google. 10 hrs. That was the drive time from Brooklyn to Charlotte. A quick check of the weather. Well, it looked bad but mainly in Jersey and Pennsylvania, and of course New York. If I left before the worst hit NYC, I could possibly do the drive in about 12 maybe even 14 hrs.

I calmly called my wife. Told my partner, and the sales guys in Charlotte. Packed and squeezed in a quick ramen lunch. 2 pm and I was in the car on the way out of Brooklyn.

The 1st 30 minutes was so easy. No cars on the road. Blizzard conditions, yes, but manageable. I had a long drive ahead of me and I drove as cautiously as possible. No sense rushing if the goal was to make an 11 am meeting tomorrow. I was at the Holland Tunnel in what must have been record time for such adverse conditions. New Jersey never looked so manageable. Once on the interstate things started to deteriorate, albeit very slowly. Driving 30 mph was fine until it dawned that even that was an unsafe speed. Semis, SUVs, sedans, trucks, coupes. All manner of makes and models were on the road with me now. But what was normally considered a rather empty interstate was now a one lane snow-covered country road with the occasional side lane for passing. Still, I was encouraged by the fact that I was moving and making good time in this tempest of a snow storm.

Was I scared? I didn't really have time to think about it. I was so focused on the road, the cars around me, and the ice that kept creeping up the lower part of my windshield. Plus, wiping the excess condensation off the inside of my windshield every minute.

By now, I was probably about two hours or so into the journey and approaching the Jersey - Pennsylvania border. Looking ahead, the sign said "Last Exit in Jersey". Wow. I was doing ok. Then I looked around and realized that there were no cars around me - front or back. The Interstate was now one barely there lane with snow banks that were about a foot high and rising. I couldn't even see more than 20 feet around me with all the snow coming down, blowing around and swirling. Michael Kay described it best when he said that it was like being in a snow globe of New York.

That was my first moment of real fear and regret. I had driven in impossible conditions alone, and now for this desolate stretch I was really alone. The snow seemed to eat up every bit of road ahead of me and the tracks of the cars that had passed before were rapidly disappearing. I was scared. I didn't pray. I thought about choice and how I had made my choice to risk my life. I thought about how I needed to not dwell on my mistake and keep focused on the task at hand. It wasn't about getting to Charlotte at this point, it was just about driving in survival mode.

A good 30 minutes passed before I made it into Pennsylvania. I thought that the worst was over and I was well on my way to Charlotte. But as I've learned since - it 's probably in my karma to be tested beyond what my feeble understanding of my mental threshold is. My sixth grade teacher once told me that she thought I was one of the better students of that particular class of hers, but that I had never really been tested so I would never know what I was made of - until my back was against the wall. I've spent the following years trying to live up to her expectations and tackling every challenge like it was the penultimate test.

Perhaps that's why I chose to embark on the drive in the first place. I needed to pass this test.

Man with the Golden Companion

2009-10-22T17:46:00.000-04:00

10/8/09

For someone riding a mobility scooter, he was far from the usual stereotype of a rider. He wasn’t overweight. Not particularly old. No real visible signs of disability. If one didn’t know better this would another George Costanza-like situation. Not pretty.

He was dressed like an old high school teacher. Attempting to dress up and convey some gravitas, but ending up looking rumpled and a caricature of what academics think is fashionable yet comfortable. In his case, it was a dark navy blue blazer that though the standard two button, the cut and the design betrayed the truth that it was probably bought a good decade or more ago. The lapels were slightly larger and the blazer itself was about a size too large for his frame.

Adding to that lost fashion sense was a navy blue crewneck worn under that blazer. A curious choice to pair with a blazer for him, but it went perfectly with the faded black denim jeans he was wearing. Both were equally generous with the fading of color, and in keeping with his now obvious near monotone taste in color.

The black chunky boots were a real surprise though. For a person on a scooter to have these hybrid hiking and walking boots was an oxymoron right? If one isn’t doing much walking, why wear those meant for others who are to do much of it?

His glasses on a black tortoiseshell frame completed his look.

At his feet was a dark grey messenger bag. A cell phone sticking out of the side pocket, looking like it was supposed to be in more comfortable quarters.

He spent the majority of his train ride reading the New York Times. The boardsheet in all of its splendor on what is normally a train too crowded for spreading out.

Golden Companion

2009-10-09T11:35:00.001-04:00

Man 10/8/09

Golden Companion. Rather, Golden Companion II. That was the name on the prominent label affixed to the front and rear. The Golden Companion II is an electric mobility scooter. Now a scooter in a NYC subway is a rare sight and one simply cannot let this pass without a closer look.

It was a metallic navy blue scooter. A large sticker on the steering column to indicate the name, Golden Companion II, and an even larger sticker on the rear of the scooter on the casing where the battery is located to do the same.

It was a man sitting on this scooter. The seat was similar to a seat one would find on an electric wheelchair. Large back and seat, though curiously no seat belt on this one. Perhaps it was removed? The grey chair was made from a PVC material and the foam sticking out from the worn corners suggested a lot of mileage. It was also slightly discolored and darkened adding to the patina of age and abuse.

At the very top of the steering column was a small circle headlight flanked on both sides by black foam padded handlebars. There were no brake levers on that handlebar, but directly underneath each grip was a small lever obviously meant for the thumbs – the left was marked R, and the right was marked F. On the dash board was a battery meter in the middle of that rectangle console. To the left and right were two little buttons – one for the headlight and the other remained a mystery. At the bottom of the steering column was a rubberized accordion sleeve that was most probably there to protect a suspension or some sort of hinge.

The rather thick chassis sat on three wheels. One in front, and two in the rear. All grey in color and about 10 inches in diameter. There were also two other smaller wheels right next to the rear wheels. Those two smaller wheels were roller wheels that sat off the ground, and probably there to aid transportation of the vehicle.

On the front panel of the battery casing was a large faux wood sticker. Not sure why it was there since it didn’t obviously serve a function nor was it aesthetically appropriate.

His feet rested on a large footbed that essentially dominated the chassis of the scooter. On the front edging of the footbed was a protective metallic gold strip that ran the length of that edge. In keeping with the theme, there were portions that were held down by masking tape and a small portion that was missing completely.

The Original

2009-10-02T18:21:00.000-04:00

Woman 9/24/09

It was a simple tee with a rather striking black and white image. At first, the initial reaction was one of irony – Oh, how cute that she’s wearing a t-shirt with the face of Pam Anderson, who is clearly the antithesis of everything this woman stands for. Focusing more on the face on that tee, it began to be obvious that it wasn’t the infamous Pamela Anderson who was being subtly mocked, it was the great Brigitte Bardot who was being celebrated.

Brigitte Bardot the icon. Brigitte Bardot the woman who epitomized French sensuality in Fifties and whose influence is still felt today even though the height of her fame was in the Sixties. Unlike those who needed to die young to remain so, she is still remembered as an effervescent beauty who conjures fantasies at the mere mention of her name. What’s probably more striking is that instead of being just remembered for her sexuality, she’s long been a favorite of fashionistas as well.

This fashionista wasn’t channeling Bardot but perhaps celebrating her French style. The tee aside, she was in dark skinny jeans tucked into tall leather boots. The boots just like the jeans were unadorned and offered clean simple lines for the eye. The heels were just about 3 inches and the tan rich enough to impart the craftsmanship and the probable high price.

On her lap was a large handbag. It was an ivory leather with just two handles. All other details though were obscured by the large cotton anorak that she had on which partially cloaked the handbag. The anorak was meant to sit loosely on her shoulders. A thin canvas jacket for cooler summer or warmer spring days had found itself in demand on this cool late early Fall day in NYC. It was a sand color with a hood that had drawstrings of the same color. One could make out the zipper which indicated that the hood was removable. The zipper of the anorak was brass, but the buttons on the side hand pockets were both brown. The relative simplicity of this long jacket was essentially in keeping with her signature taste.

She had a long pixie cut. The hair was dyed in what looked to be two different layers – brown on the outside and black on the inside. The roots were brown, so this just wasn’t a simple case of her black hair growing out. It was a deliberate dye pattern.

Her make-up was equally deliberate. Light on the blush. Heavy on the mascara to highlight her eyes. And a pale powder around her cheeks to offset the pink of the blush. The eyebrows were painted brown. There were a light sprinkling of freckles across her face.

She looked like she stepped out of a fashionista Manga comic.

The Color of Money

2009-09-23T15:07:00.002-04:00

Woman. 9/22/09

At first glance, one sees one basic item of clothing in an innocuous green. But take a closer look, and you realize that one item leads to another – the subtlety was in the delicate balance of shades. Green yet not green.

So yes, it was green. Green everywhere but in all different shades and hues, and varying textures.

Given the warm weather that had enveloped NYC in this first week of Fall, the boots were a clear calling card of someone ready for cooler climes. Green boots which were just the kind you’d expect in early Fall. Not tall at all, reaching just to her lower calf. The green? A pea green that wasn’t unlike a rich split pea soup from one of NYC’s fabled restaurants. The textured leather added another dimension and somehow was able to soften the look of the boot. There was a zipper on the back of each boot from heel to top – dark green in color. On the lower sides of each boot, a double helix stitch pattern in a dark green thread. No socks were visible on her legs.

In keeping with the early Fall theme, she had on a pair of skorts. Ending just at knee level, the skort was actually a seersucker fabric obscured by the dark olive green background color finished with thin bankers stripes done in a light green. One could also see empty belt loops at the waistline.

Perhaps to no surprise, she was wearing long sleeves on this day as well. This was green in all its glory. A clear green like Astro Turf in the night stadium when viewed on HD. It was your basic cotton wide scoop neck top. There was a skinny black strap visible on her left shoulder which turned out to be the black camisole she had on underneath.

Her handbag was aquamarine. Not a surprise really. It had a Coach leather brand tag attached to one of the handles. One the front of the bag was a pocket with a gold buckle though it wasn’t readily apparent if it was for functional access to the pocket or for pure aesthetics. Since the bag was open, you could see that the interior had a multi-colored striped lining.

The rest of her was actually refreshingly simple. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun. And on each earlobe was a thin long gold chain which was holding a single white pearl. Her right ring finger had a simple gold wedding band.

She was reading a thick hardcover book. With it open, you could see a purple Post-it that she had used to mark something on a previous page. The title and author on the front cover was obscured by a rather large paper library tag – in large font, it was marked Baruch College Inter-library Loan.

LV in Pink

2009-09-16T15:09:00.001-04:00

Woman 8/17/09

You’ve got to hand it to Marc Jacobs. The man who turned Murakami and Sprouse into household names in middle America. Jessica Simpson knows their names.

She was carrying the unmistakable Louis Vuitton Stephen Sprouse handbag. It was the regular Sprouse style writing but in hot pink against the dark brown background. You could spot this bag from a country mile away. The zipper was open and she had a Snapple bottom and what appeared to be her breakfast in a small Ziploc bag sitting at the very top of the opening.

Her outfit was just as eye-catching as her bag, just as fashionable though not as loud color-wise. Her jeans were skintight. From her ankles to her waist, the denim was a second skin. The jeans themselves were of a dark denim but high-waisted, not the low-slug skinny jeans favored by so many today. Perhaps it was because of her full figure, but those fashionable high-waisted dark jeans really worked for her. The label on the rear was Guess.

Her top was this chiffon and silk halter top. An interesting choice for the cool weather. The floral print was a watercolor of reds and greens in a manner that evoked Marc Jacobs – feminine yet contemporary. Definitely something Anthropologie would knock off, or perhaps it was something purchased from Forever 21.

On her feet were a pair of flip-flops from Havaianas. The straps were gold and there was a distinct print on the footbed of the sandals. Interesting choice of footwear but perhaps consistent relative to the halter top.

The large gold earrings on her accentuated her hair and face. The hoop earrings were so large they reached almost to her shoulders and threatened to overwhelm her but the thinness of the rings made them much more subtle – as subtle as large hoop gold earrings can be. The asymmetrical cut of her hairstyle confirmed her fashionista tendencies. A left to right part with severe bangs tilting left but with hair long enough to reach her upper back.

On her left hand was a silver bracelet formed with open links. A silver heart charm was attached.

Young at Heart

2009-09-08T11:15:00.001-04:00

Man 8/30/09

Someday when we’re all old and slow. We’ll either treat our clothes as a bother and not worthy of our limited time remaining on Earth, or we’ll do the best we can because that’s the kind of people we are. Wonder which side each of us will choose.

He was an undeniably old man. A face that reminded one of old Chinese sages that have been a part of popular culture for 2000 years. White eyebrows so long they almost seemed in need of grooming. Age spots on the edges of the face. Slight puffy bags under his eyes. Curiously, no major wrinkles accept for around his mouth.

His forehead and hair were hidden by his navy-blue fabric hat. It was a standard fishing hat with a short brim and three brass grommets on each side.

This ancient style guy was wearing a polyester track jacket. It was a cream colored standard track jacket with green and black stripes that started just below the shoulders on the front, and paralleled vertically down the back. On the left breast was a logo for Winslow, and on the right bicep was a green triangle outlined with the words Winslow Sports Era inside. His zip collar was open and you could just make out the green accent under the collar. The frayed cuffs indicated a well worn jacket.

Underneath that jacket was a white shirt that had somewhat yellowed with age. It was a standard issues spread collar with a tab underneath. This gentleman was buttoned up all the way. In his left breast shirt pocket was a large bulge that was probably his wallet. A curious place if for such an important accessory.

The pants were a matching shade of beige. And thought they were definitely of a synthetic material, the cut was non-pleated. I’d guess the pattern was from the 80’s prior to the explosion of pleated pants. Holding up those pants was a black leather belt. A gold buckle with a simple circular design.

The best thing on this dapper gentleman? His shoes. They were faux leather loafers. In a cream color similar to the jacket. A small metal logo on the outside front top corner of each shoe. The cream was accented with brown strips that weaved subtlety around the soles. The best part? The man was sockless.

Ever the gentleman, he was carrying a slim umbrella. It was medium sized and the fabric was a madras pattern in a primarily blue-green color with hints of orange. Paired with that umbrella was a tote bag with long fabric straps. The cotton bag was in a brown and cream houndstooth check pattern. A small bag overall, but for his small frame – perfect.

Throughout the subway ride, his left hand would be trembling. Every so often the soft tremors would migrate and his legs would be affected as well.

Hats for the Memories

2009-08-31T17:23:00.000-04:00

Man 7/30/09

The Return of the Fedora. Kennedy tried to kill it in 1960, and two-score and nine years later, the fedora has officially marked a new renaissance. Not a return to glory like the old days, but at least a return to respectability.

As such, this man’s fedora was not to be ridiculed though admiration was not in the cards either. Just a philosophical tip ‘O the hat (all pun intended). His was a new hipster fedora. More a trilby than a fedora really. Black and white in color, and in a faux Prince of Wales check pattern. It was sitting above his head, exposing his full head of dark wavy hair.

With his long thin sideburns and his thinly sculpted goatee featuring a soul patch under his lip, there was no mistaking this gentleman for another. He was a hipster and he was not afraid to tell the world.

The standard uniform was thus observed on this man.

Jeans – dark, dirty and indigo. Skinny with cuffs folded up.

Shoes – possibly used. Very dirty but very Euro in style. White leather athletic-inspired, with 3 velcro straps – two of which were non-functioning bungee bands.

Black Tee – crew neck. Blue and white graphic across the front stretching around to the back. More tattoo or street-inspired than irony-filled.

Sunglasses – new shiny faux Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses hanging off the tee collar.

Canvas Messenger Bag – khaki, again quite worn and old looking. A red, white and navy fabric strap giving a hint of Americana.

Frankly, he looked like he was a hipster who dressed like he shopped at JC Penney or Kohl’s. Other than the trilby, nothing on him was authentic and they all seemed manufactured to confer that hipster vibe.

Nothing we dislike more than a faux-hipster.

Calling all Bikers! Ride for Charity.

2009-08-31T10:18:00.000-04:00

White on White

2009-08-26T13:20:00.001-04:00

Woman 8/26/09

Immediately, one notices the obvious. White pants. Summer white, pristine and not quite sheer and very weather appropriate. The white singlet. Ok, the white wifebeater. Plain white and in this context, again, very weather appropriate. On her arm was a grey cardigan, no doubt for the cooler air that her work environment was sure to provide.

Curiously, she wasn’t tan at all. All that white, and her skin was just as alabaster though perhaps not as severe. The singlet revealed very freckled pale arms which matched her equally freckled and pale face. No makeup on her but a slight hint of lip gloss. She had shoulder length brown hair.

On her ears, pearl earrings. One pearl on each lobe, sitting on a gold setting.

As much as one noticed the big hits of white. It also came into view that there was a very deliberate secondary color at play. Orange.

On her neck was a necklace composed of three strands of beads. Well, more like pearls – orange pearls. Three stands of orange faux pearls that demanded to be noticed in a sea of white.

On her feet, a pair of burnt orange sandals. Faux-leather gladiator-inspired straps from toe to ankle with a comfortable sole - maybe Aerosoles? And all this topped off with toenails in a near matching color. Orange, but not quite burnt. Her fingernails though were clean – no color.

Her handbag was this large brown leather handbag. In a hobo styled design. A large brown leather strap on each end attached to silver buckles. No pockets or outside zippers. Just one large opening on the top of the bag.

And as modern women are no taking to doing, she was wearing a men’s watch. A stainless steel sports model with a round black face. Couldn’t make out the brand though.

About three stops into her ride, she pulled a book out of her handbag and proceeded to spend the rest of the ride in reader-trance. She was reading “Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living” by Pema Chodron.

Crooklyn

2009-08-26T12:51:00.001-04:00

Man 6/16/09

People talk about the Brooklyn attitude like they do about the Bronx attitude or in some cases, the Queens one. (Apologies to Staten Island and Manhattan) The more one lives in Brooklyn, the more you realize that perhaps there is such a thing. Starting from Tony Manero, to the Eighties rap renaissance and followed by the latter day Jay-Z shout-outs. There have been all along pop culture the personification of this Brooklyn attitude.

The kid was dressed much like a lot of his urban compatriots. First off, the shoes. Air Jordans. Not the late model ones, but the early model re-issue. Looked like Air Jordan III to the non-expert shoegazer. The white patent leather, the purple accents and finished with ultra clean white laces. A modern take on a street classic.

Super skin tight black skinny jeans. Worn not in a rocker or hipster manner, but more in the style of the street skaters of today. Just hang out at Tompkins Square Park if you need a closer look.

Over the jeans was a large black puffer vest. It was severely oversize. It’s shiny fabric reflecting the light off the subway train and highlighting the quilted design. The hood was detachable and the collar was in perpetual pop-up mode. Two side hand pockets on the front. Basic gear for this crowd.

But all this was put together with quite some thought. The tee under the puffer vest was this purple crewneck. Not royal but your basic purple. And on his head was a Colorado Rockies baseball cap. Why the Rockies? Purple. The interlocking CR logo was purple with a white outline – no doubt the cap was bought to complete the color scheme. The cap’s bill was as flat as new, and the size sticker still affixed to the top of that bill. His hair was completed hidden under that cap.

His baby face suggested someone no older than his late teens. Which meant the diamond studs in each ear were probably fake – though being that impossibly large screamed fake anyway. A gold crucifix hung across his neck over the front of his purple tee.

On his hand was a metal silver and gold link strap watch. A white face with black numerals.

Further up his left forearm? A large Brooklyn tattoo done in script. Bold, brash and obviously in homage to his hometown.

State of Confusion

2009-08-19T15:09:00.000-04:00

Woman 6/17/09

Variety is the spice of life. So, what happens when one has outfitted and accessorized with the idea of achieving variety?

At first glance, she already appeared to be out-of-sorts. Not in a hair-all-over manner but in a way that one instinctively knows after years of riding the subway – some people are just inexplicable.

She was wearing a denim jacket. Not an acid-wash retread but it was in a light indigo hue which was very, very 80’s. Still it was a standard denim jacket design, with the double patch pockets in front, silver buttons and rivets, and as her once-folded sleeves illustrated - working buttons on the cuffs. Still it was at least one or two sizes too large for her. The jacket shoulders drooped over her tiny frame. Not a tent or a poncho, but it wasn’t a flattering slim fit either.

Under that denim jacket was a simple white cotton tee. It was longer than the typical tee, and the tail of it reached down to her hips. It looked like there was graphic on the tee that resembled the writing on a typical doctor’s eye chart.

The pants were basic business work pants. Black with slim gray, brown and blue stripes running vertically. You could make out the black stockings she had on underneath. And on her feet were two inch heels with a square toe and a small bow on the front. There was a strap at the heel. The contrast of the beige colored shoes and the dark pants with black stocks only served to highlight the continuing enigma that was this woman’s style.

Her accessories only confused more. First, a black briefcase. Yes, a black hard-shell leather briefcase usually seen with die-hard fans of L.A. Law. Sure, this one was slim making it a non-Willy Loman issue, but still nowhere close to being an acceptable part of a respectable woman’s executive attire. The second? A medium green tote bag. The primary color was green but there was a sea of white, blue and yellow dots as well. The dots were positioned such that it reminded one of star constellations. The larger blue dots could have been planets and the smaller white and yellow dots possibly stars and moons. And not content with those two pieces, she was carrying yet another bag with her. This time a very basic run-of-the-mill white canvas tote. The kind LL Bean makes.

Does the woman’s style end with her clothing and accessories choices?

Her hair was short. But the mane was teased up in such a way that coupled with the obvious brown dye job with even lighter brown highlights, one could only say – Tina Turner. A slightly shorter version but unmistakably Tina.

Her makeup wasn’t spared either. The foundation, is understood. The lipstick in a subtle pink hue was even tasteful. Then came the blue eye shadow and the heavy black
mascara.

In her hand was a thick handheld PDA. I’m not even sure what brand, model or decade it came from. But there she was tapping away with that black stylus pen. Perhaps she was playing a game? She was staring at it rather intently.

On her neck was a small gold crucifix dangling from a thin gold chain.

John Hughes R.I.P.

2009-08-11T11:51:00.003-04:00

I'm just naming my favorites here:

Pretty in Pink
The Breakfast Club
Weird Science
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Sixteen Candles

There's nothing I could add that hasn't been written about John Hughes over the past week. But I'll say this. Until John Hughes came along, no one made movies for teens. And certainly not movies about contemporary teenagers specifically for teenagers. I can only think of George Lucas's American Graffitti, Saturday Night Fever (1977) and of course, Rebel Without a Cause (1955) as two before John Hughes. But Lucas' movie was in 1973 and set in the 50's. So, really only Rebel and Fever. That's a long time before anyone realized that an entire generation existed without a voice in cinema.

There's no one who spent their teenage years in the 80's who could deny the influence of those movies. The Breakfast Club taught us that we're all the same insecure and frightened teenagers under all that bluster and bravado. Ferris Bueller was the smart kid who was cool because he was free of everyone's rules and opinions, and not a typical jock or caricature nerd. Andie making her own prom dress and Duckie in vintage in Pretty in Pink - that is fashion.

And though I hate to admit it, Andie kissing Blane in front of that 3 Series? Made me equate BMWs to girls forever.

Just look at the casting, Molly Ringwald, Ally Sheedy, Judd Nelson, Anthony Michael Hall, Jon Cryer - yeah they were really white and really surburban, but none of them with classic Hollywood-ready looks and all of them had something for each of us to relate to.

We all loved the movies.

And for a generation of moviegoers, one man was largely responsible for making us feel like we were all in it together and perhaps we were not so different after all. And with a little courage and a little luck, we could be who we really were and possibly even succeed in love and life.

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are.

You see us as you want to see us. In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions.

But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain,
and an athlete,
and a basket case,
a princess,
and a criminal.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club.

Lady In Red

2009-08-11T11:25:00.000-04:00

Woman 7/21/09

What is it with men and redheads? Men are under the illusion that all redheads are attractive and desirable. Perhaps its because we’ve yet to see an unattractive redhead.

Her hair was slightly more orange than red. Burnt orange might be the more accurate term. And that hair was tied back into a ponytail. With her face devoid of make-up, she reminded me of Molly Ringwald in Fresh Horses. Then again, for men of a certain age, all redheads remind them of Molly Ringwald, just as older men view all redheads as descendants of Ann- Margret.

The curious case of this redhead is the amount of colors on her that matched her hair color. Her scarf was orange. A summer weight scarf with ruffles and tassels and tied in a double loop around her neck. It really made the orange of her hair all the more obvious. And on her feet were orange Wellingtons. They were from Hunter, and had the usual buckles on the outside of the boot, right near the top, which reached to just under her knees.

Was orange possibly also her favorite color?

She was wearing a large oversized grey cardigan. Long enough for one to tell that it reached to about her hips when she was standing up. Under that a faded blue deep v-neck cotton tee. Just about peeking out from under that tee was what seemed to be a collar of an identical v-neck tee in white.

Slung on her shoulders was a black tote bag that had a black umbrella sticking out from one of the corners. It was one of those cheap street vendor umbrellas.

On her lap was her iPhone with a pink silicone cover. And in her hand was a large coffee cup.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

2009-07-30T18:02:00.001-04:00

Man 7/21/09

Full disclosure. I am a Chicago White Sox fan. Not because of President Obama, not because they won the World Series in 2005, not even because of the dungeon called Old Comiskey (R.I.P.) But really because of Frank Thomas, Jack McDowell and the greatest Okie State baseball player, Robin Ventura (sit down Pete Incaviglia fans).

It’s no wonder that a man wearing a Chicago White Sox jersey riding the subway in Brooklyn makes an appearance here. That distinct “Chicago” in black script lettering across the chest with sliver and white outline. The white socks on black logo on the sleeves.

What’s really the wonder here is that the man was also wearing a Boston Red Sox baseball cap. Yes, a Red Sox hat – navy blue hat with the distinctive “B” in its auld glory script.

What on Earth? WTF?

The rest of him was a fairly standard blue collar guy uniform. The basic light blue jeans. Loose fitting in a standard wash and there was a handkerchief dangling from his left pocket.. The white Nike sneakers with enough off-white to suggest a decent amount of wear. A digital watch in a stainless steel casing with a black rubber strap – probably a Timex or Casio.

The glasses on his face were a pedestrian rectangular style metal frame. A goatee on his face to highlight his masculinity while not wearing any jewelry of any sort. He was carrying a small black drawstring nylon bag.

One last thing, a lanyard with I (Heart) New York printed on.

Cuts like a Knife

2009-07-23T20:18:00.000-04:00

Man 7/16/09

What hurts isn’t when you see someone dressed in a wild inappropriate manner, or when they are showing too much skin, or when they just plain can’t match, or they are just too damn weird.

No, what hurts is when said subject dresses not quite up to snuff but you can tell that they are trying. They are really trying to be fashionable or presentable and it’s just not happening.

The man was really a kid. Probably right out if not still in college. His baby face gave his youth away. His clean-cut looks were aided by the close cropped hair and the lack of any facial hair.

For starter’s he was wearing black dress slacks that were double-pleated. Apologies to the sartorial gods for not intervening immediately, for the rules clearly state that if you are born past 1980 you are not allowed to wear pleated pants period. You are not allowed to wear pleated pants. Plus, his pants were not only cuffed but they ended at the top of his feet. Too short, two pleated.

On top of those pants? A pastel lime-green short sleeve button front shirt. And paired with that day-glo shirt was a bright yellow wide tie with an equally fat knot. No, he wasn’t dressed as if at a masquerade ball, he was dressed like he was on his way to a desk job or an interview.

The black loafers on his feet were polished and the dark dress socks were not going to be out of place in a standard Herman Miller cubicle. He was carrying a brown leather messenger bag on his right shoulder. It was a fairly worn light brown bag with the standard bronze hardware though his seemed to be crammed full – of what it wasn’t readily obvious.

To complete his look, gold rectangle rimmed glasses and the gold link watch on his left wrist, plus keys dangling from one of his belt loops.

Do the Right Thing

2009-07-18T21:31:00.001-04:00

Woman 7/2/09

Sometimes the world sends you a signal that says, “Hey! You! Yeah, you! Pay attention for there is much that you don’t know and paths will cross.”

And it was this morning where that sign appeared though it was little more than a wink and a wry smile.

In case some have missed it, and most have. It was the 20th anniversary of the release of the seminal Spike Lee movie, “Do the Right Thing”. 20 years ago when Public Enemy seared through the ears of the wayward youth, Rosie Perez turned boys into men and Ghetto-blaster entered the nation’s vocabulary. So, this very morning, if this wasn’t a sign, then perhaps it was just coincidence.

Have you ever seen a tote bag that resembled the large Ghetto-blaster that Radio Raheem was carrying around the entire movie? This one was black and on the front was a print of a very large, loud and colorful stereo or Ghetto-blaster. It was an exact reproduction on canvas from the knobs and switches right down to the red, yellow and green colors on the equalizer. Of course this being 1989, there was no CD player, just one large mouth of a cassette tape, plus two large speakers that anchored each side. And funny enough, the side panels of this tote bag had AV input and outputs in the standard red and yellow.

So, what sort of person carries this tote bag?

She, yes a she. I’d say mid-thirties to early forties if I had to guess. Her hair was short, curly and purple. Yes, purple. But the dye job might have gone a little awry as the hair was black in the lower back portion of her head. Or perhaps she had only wanted a crown of purple and liked the black below her eyeline.

Black was the predominant color of choice for her. A black sleeveless tank top – cotton crewneck. A black knit skirt that ended at the knee with a slight flare. Not chunky but honestly looked homemade. And the shoes? Black. Black Converse Chuck Taylor lowcuts. No socks though, this was summer after all.

For all the juxtaposition of her old school radio tote bag. She was actually wearing these black wireless headphones. The oval panel connecting each ear bud was had a Motorola logo which was lit up in blue to signal the use of Bluetooth. And when she pulled out her iPod Touch, you could see the adaptor plugged into the player.

I've Got You Under My Skin

2009-07-09T11:36:00.001-04:00

Woman 6/29/09

Summer means skin. Well, it also means sheer. And what perplexes are the New Yorkers who insist on riding the subways wearing sheer outfits that barely conceal the swimwear they have on underneath. If you’re already showing plenty of skin, must you wear and outfit that reveals even as it covers?

You couldn’t help but notice. If sitting across from you is a woman whose pink bikini top is clearly visible underneath her barely there tee. Well, it’s not a skimpy tee. It’s actually a white tee that has a day-glo peace sign with paint drips to suggest an LSD mind melt of colors. This peace tee covers her well enough but it’s so worn it’s essentially sheer. So, while looking at the LSD Day-glo peace sign, one can’t help but also notice that you are staring right at her pink bikini top. Right through that peace sign.

There’s no doubt she’s preparing for a day at the beach or perhaps by a pool. Or being a New Yorker, it could just be a trip to the park to lay out. She was wearing sandals that had white straps across the front and back of the foot. One particular strap across the front of the foot had the word Camelot printed on. The sandals had a tan sole and footbed.

Her shorts were not of the bohemian kind one would expect. They were in fact quite tailored, with buttons on the side hems as well as a button on a rear pocket. The shorts were a white and purple plaid fabric – giving it a more sophisticated look. Still they were short and ended at her upper thigh.

With her was this large green tyvek tote bag. There was an equally large Steve Madden logo on the side printed in white.

She reminded me of the wispy girls one sees on America’s Next Top Model. Tall, skinny and pale. A noticeable mole above the left side of her upper lip. Her brunette hair was long but tied up into a ponytail that was then folded back over making it look like a short stump on the back of her head.

And since she was in the outdoor state of mind, her sunglasses were already on her face. They were a purple resin frame - in an oversize exaggerated retro-aviator style popularized by Tom Ford. Frankly, the Barney the Dinosaur purple made those glasses more fun and interesting.

Stars and Stripes Forever

2009-07-01T12:35:00.002-04:00

Woman 7/1/09

It’s a fairly common in NYC to spot genuine or faux genuine military clothing appropriated as fashionable attire. However this statement generally applies only to men, and it’s really rare to see a woman build her wardrobe around something from Army surplus.

Military field jacket. Or what may also be referred to as a Battle Dress Uniform (BDU) Coat. This was the standard issue BDU Coat made of sturdy cotton and in a green and black camouflage print. The large jacket was too large for her small frame and drooped over her shoulders. The stripes on each arm were Sergeant’s stripes, but with the extra stripes on the bottom, they were definitely of a First or Staff Sergeant rank. What I couldn’t (and still can’t) figure out is if the stripes were current or from a certain era in military history.

What I do know is that the star in the middle of the stripes indicated US Air Force. Of course, so did the patch on the left breast of the jacket. On the right side was the name patch – Benton. There were two other smaller patches, one under each name patch, but it was tough to make out the design from a distance.

So, how does a woman complement her BDU coat?

Well, underneath the jacket is a blue cotton crew neck tee. I’d say it was a Thomas the Tank Engine blue. She was also wearing a basic black knee-length skirt – a cotton poly blend by the looks of it.

She also had on knee length argyle socks. Brown and grey argyle which were just visible above the top of her Wellingtons. Well, Chooka rainboots to be exact. The same Wellingtons that I had described in my earlier post. She was the owner of those much admired shoes.

Her handbag was a medium sized, white canvas with a black tribal or ethnic print. But with these green-yellow bordered black racing stripes going around the bag from center front. The leather straps were black with gold hardware. And there was one front pocket with a zipper.

She was reading a hardcover copy of “Wish I Could Be There “ by Allen Shawn.

In one of the few instance when she looked up from her book, you could just make out the lip piercing. A silver stud centrally positioned under her lower lip.

It's Rainin' Wellies!

2009-06-18T16:12:00.002-04:00

On a miserable wet, wetter, wettest day like today one has to either write it off or look for the silver lining. I was prepared to write it off, and lo and behold, it brought something completely new to my attention.

Wellingtons.

New York women and their Wellingtons. The surprise? That there are just as many styles of Wellies as there are women wearing them. Here’ s a quick glance.

Multicolor clouds – grey with colored circles resembling clouds.

Penguin - attached eyes staring up at the owner, with orange and black body. Orange handles on sides.

Mustard yellow with two inch black heels. Riding boot style;

Dark green with multi color polka dots

Navy with thin horizontal nautical stripes and buckle on side.

Black with white polka dots of varying sizes. Interior lining was hot pink.

Black with brown Michael Kors MK logo print. Gold buckle on side.

Burberry. She's Korean. It was the Burberry check.

Red with little black penguin silhouettes scattered about.

Carolina blue with matching tote bag.

White black and brown argyle, reaching the lower calf.

Large gingham check. Black grey and white. Worn with holes on left front left and right front right. Black buckle on side.

Most Fashionable?
Burberry deconstructed check. With black sole and black rim. Not Korean, definitely fashionista.

Coolest?
Chooka brand. Black. Rose in horseshoe illustration on the side, same illustration repeated on the front but with word “Lucky” underneath. A pair of peace doves on the side. On the front, a skull and bones motif. And twin red hearts – one with a banner that ‘Rock”, and the other with “Roll”. Black buckle on the side.

Calling all 25 regular readers

2009-06-17T11:29:00.002-04:00

http://www.brokelyn.com/kooky-brooklyn-blog-of-the-day-the-descriptionist/

Your patience and unending compassion (and abject pity) has been rewarded.

Please don't fall in love with Brokelyn.com and move on.

Cool Hand Leia

2009-06-16T12:10:00.001-04:00

Woman 6/3/09

Another great plus about the warm weather is the ability to see someone’s personality in totality. The cool mornings require layering but the imminent warm-up necessitates that certain warm weather fundamentals stay in place.

Not that there wasn’t much color on her, which was mostly the case, but rather it was the way the turquoise stood out. Turquoise nail color on her fingers and toes. Quite a nice hit of color on an otherwise mostly monochromatic outfit.

Monochromatic mostly. But cool, most certainly.

She had on this short cropped leather jacket in a light color – almost a light sand. The leather seemed quite worn, almost reminding one of a vintage find. The sleeves ended at the wrist and were zippered like a biker’s. It really was hard to tell if this motorcycle inspired jacket was deliberately designed to be worn small, look vintage, and feel biker-ish. Given the color of the leather, it’d be a safe bet to say that this was some designer’s take on the typical biker’s jacket.

Her dress was a modern take on the sack dress. A deep tan color with a ribbed top and bottom. Hitting her just above her knees. On her feet were updated Roman sandals that featured snakeskin straps. One got the sense that she had an eye for the non-traditional updated with a modern touch.

On her neck was this pendant that was a gold setting featuring a clear matte crystal stone. Not sure what to make of the color. There was another stone on her left ring finger – probably an engagement ring. The stone itself was modest, no more than 1.5 ct, but the band had some interesting etchings that were almost ornate giving it an antique look. On her wrist was a gold watch. Actually, a men’s gold watch with a round black face and gold link strap.

It was raining that morning and her blonde hair was still slightly wet from the rain, straight and resting on her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing very much makeup – just a touch of blush and pale red lipstick.

Her tote was this canary yellow canvas bag that came with leather straps and a zip at the opening.

Lay Down Athena

2009-06-10T11:40:00.000-04:00

Woman 6/2/09

Warmer weather brings out the most interesting of styles. Funky, flirty, quirky, colorful, boring and even the skin-baring dressers are let loose from their winter shackles. Although this woman was the first for this early summer season – athletic gear as style. No, she was not going to the gym or on her way back from the gym. She was clearly dressed in athletic gear that communicated her style sensibility.

Let’s start with the basics. Sneakers. White canvas by Adidas with white laces and a black sole. Too clean and pristine to be workout sneakers. And she matched them with your basic white athletic ankle socks.

She was wearing a pair of basketball shorts. The black mesh knee-length ones that are now part of everyday ballin’ gear. The logo said Eastpak.

The last bit of her athletic garb? A hoodie. This white sleeveless hoodie with white zippers and drawstrings. She had it over her head which barely concealed her head-wrap. Now, the head-wrap is sometimes labeled as a doo-rag, but this was clearly more stylish than functional. It was indeed a head-wrap by every definition. The best part? The head-wrap was a camouflage print. That’s right, a camo print head-wrap. Needless to say, no hair was visible underneath all that fabric.

Another fashion statement besides the camo head-wrap? The printed tee. She had on this black v-neck tee that had a tan print of an eagle. Not a picture but more an eagle illustration done with an almost spray paint graffiti-like stencil treatment. In another medium, it could be hanging on the wall of Ted Nugent’s basement man-cave. This eagle stretched from the front of the tee all the way around to the back, and touching on the left sleeve slightly.

The dead giveaway that she was dressing to impress? Her jewelry. She was wearing this small gold crucifix hanging on a simple gold chain, though the crucifix did look like it had a little more ornate-ness to it than easily observed from afar. The ear lobes had two matching gold square studs. Her right wrist had a simple gold bracelet. Yes, gold was the theme of the day.

Then why was she wearing this silver ring on her left hand? It was on her index finger – a thick band with some sort of pattern etched in and a red ruby sitting in the middle.

The most curious thing? She was carrying this small black plastic bag that you get at any corner deli or bodega. Not quite sure what that held inside.

Sister Christian

2009-06-07T12:36:00.000-04:00

Woman 5/29/09

Old. Old and wrinkled. Old, wrinkled and small. Old, wrinkled, small and very nun-like. Her serene face and drab clothing reminded one of Mother Theresa or at least what a lay person’s distant memory of Mother Theresa would yield in the Brooklyn portion of a ride in the MTA subway.

Her hair was mostly grey with patches of light brown that hinted of a different color long since past. The hair was also thinning and her hairline receding. As such, the short pixie-style bob that was her hairstyle probably the best solution to maintaining a veneer of style given the scarce resources.

Her face was an amalgamation of wrinkles. On her forehead, around her mouth and leading to her neck. Her eyes were very deep set with dark circles that were really more red than they were just dark – serving to highlight her eye bags in a manner that suggested a medical issue. She had no eyebrows and age spots dominated an otherwise blemish free complexion.

The thin hair revealed a pair of rather large ears – relatively speaking. And the neck was typical for a woman of her years. More cruel people would commence with the joking not realizing that we all befall the same fate eventually.

Her nun-wear?

It was a black v-neck cardigan. But surprisingly stylish when one got a closer look at the details – there was a white trim on the lapels, the two outside pockets and on the bottom of the jacket. Plus, the cardigan had these gold buttons which made for an interesting contrast of colors and textures.

She was wearing a basic shirt buttoned to the collar, but the print was a black and white print that suggested a more post-modern artistic approach. Think of a cross between Pollock and Mondrian.

The rest of her ensemble was basic black. Black ankle length skirt. Black walking shoes. Black leather handbag.

The one little other spot of color? Hosiery that was obviously maroon.

Thinking back now, I didn’t get a chance to look for a crucifix. Or did I miss that?

Guest Post

2009-06-03T15:09:00.004-04:00

Here's my first guest post by a dear friend - let's call her TubaRocks. Enjoy!

Hey.

I saw the most AWESOME shirt on the subway this morning. Wish you were there to describe it, but since you weren't, I'll do my best:

She was a Chinatown grandma: black slacks, beige orthopedic sneakers, blue nylon Le Sportsac knock-off with a safety pin for a zipper pull. Blah blah, whatever...

THE SHIRT: navy blue cotton button down with an all-over illustrated pattern in mostly beiges, green and red. The colors were not garish. on closer inspection, I realized the pattern was water-color-esque vignettes of a bar patronized by male cats wearing fedoras. The bartender was a female cat in a slinky red dress, heels, and fishnets. In one of the vignettes she's walking up a flight of stairs, followed by one of the fellows. In another she's in front of the bar feeding a puppy.

Too good to be true! Cats, hookers, hooker cats!

Anyway, it was all pretty thrilling.

Brothers in Arms

2009-05-28T16:28:00.000-04:00

Woman 5/28/09

The rain always brings out the Wellingtons. Hers were by Tretorn, red not glossy but matte and reaching only to her lower calf not towering to her knees. They seemed to be slightly oversized given her slender frame; there was too much room in the opening though it could have been from her slim legs.

She had on these gun-metal gray leggings as well. With a slight pattern but mostly imperceptible from a distance.

Given the rain today, the trench was an easy choice. Hers was again slightly different. It was your typical tan single-breasted trench coat, but from about the chest level down, the coat flared out – making it look like a pleated trench dress. The bottom of the coat ended slightly above her knees and the red skirt she had on went two inches past. Almost like two skirts layered over each other.

The trench was buttoned fully, but above the neckline was her crisp white shirt. A thin pencil stripe with the collar buttoned up – more preppy than bohemian. On her face were these resin rectangular frame glasses – black on the front, brown on the side and yellow inside.

Her handbag was a faded black canvas which on first look had a print that resembled a Keith Haring graphic. Once you noticed the Brooklyn Industries round logo patch on the bottom corner though, it became obvious that the print were the letters that spelled out Brooklyn Industries done in a very Keith Haring-like style. A trace of red on the zipper and around the logo added to an otherwise black and grey color scheme.

The rain had made her dirty blonde hair slick and wet, giving her a just-out-of-shower look. And perhaps the two bungee bands (one auburn, one bronze) on her right wrist were for pulling her hair back in a ponytail when dry.

Halfway into the subway ride, I looked over and saw her with a black little notebook open on her lap. She was sketching. With her artist’s pen, she was sketching faces onto the pages. It was hard to tell if they were from memory or directly based on the people in the subway.

I think in her own way, she was chronicling the people around her. Much like I was her.

Freckles de Jour

2009-05-26T11:03:00.001-04:00

Woman 5/26/09

Freckles. Lots of them. Lots of them but limited to a specific area. At least to the public eye. It was limited to just her face. And even then, it was just a wide swath across the middles of her face, from cheek to cheek. Not the forehead, not too many below the lip line. They were dark brown, set off against the sun-kissed bronze of her tan. The freckles looked like tiny flower petals that had blown off the tree and settled on her face in a random pattern.

The tan itself was another matter. Even. Not too dark, not too light. Perhaps her genetics contributed to the outcome. Nevertheless, having seen people go too orange, red, or even ashen with their tans – one appreciates something as simple as a good tan.

Curiously, she reminded me of Catherine Deneuve in that classic flim, Belle de Jour. Her black hair was just about the same past-shoulder length, and the bangs had been styled back to reveal her forehead (sans freckles) just like the image on the poster.

She had little or no make-up on her, and a pair of small studs on her ears. In keeping with the character, she had on a very conservative cardigan. Crewneck, coffee-colored, and probably a silk-blend suited for the spring and summer season. Her top two buttons were undone, but revealed not much more than her tan.

On her legs were skorts. Yes, skorts. Dark brown, going past the knee slightly and from the distance looked like they were a lightweight wool blend material. On her feet were the Tory Burch ballet flats that have been ubiquitous in NYC since last summer. Hers were black with the gold Tory Burch medallion sitting on the front of the shoe. She did have on flesh-tone thin liner socks. They were sitting above the shoes line and if one was looking closely, quite noticeable.

Her bag was classic French. Louis Vuitton hobo style bag. Large. It had an LV nameplate on the front and center of the bag. And was from the Monogram Canvas line.

It was a lot of brown. It was very reserved and a very classic European look. And the freckles complemented her perfectly.

B-Boy Fashionista

2009-05-19T11:16:00.000-04:00

Man 5/19/09

It was the watch that set the whole thing off. Perhaps it was the morning commute but I wasn’t paying much attention to this man initially. But a good glimpse at the watch and it made me look at him in a different light.

It was big and it was very bling. This large round black face, matte black watch with small diamonds in the bezel, diamonds in place of the numerals, and right smack in the middle of the watch face a skull assembled out of diamonds. Mind you, one couldn’t really be certain if the diamonds were real. But paired with the matte black metal link strap and the silver dial. It was one very, very striking watch. Black on black with a diamond skull.

His look was classic B-Boy Fashionista. Any other day and he’d be photographed for The Sartorialist or LookBook or any of the million Japanese fashion sites on the internet.

On his feet were Nike Air Force One high tops. White and pristine. On his head was a black baseball hat with a black New York Yankees logo. He was wearing it backwards with the bill flat and the manufacturer sticker still stuck on. Black and pristine.

The pants were an olive cotton that were extremely tapered and clung to his legs but wide and baggy on his thighs. As if he was wearing some sort of military riding pants. The cuffs were folded over but not revealing any ankles. He also had on a loose deep cut v-neck cotton sweater and a grey v-neck tee underneath. In the neck of the sweater he had placed his glasses, which were a retro Woody Allen-type plastic frame but with a modern twist of a brown colored front and a bright yellow reverse color combination.

There was this enormous black scarf wrapped around his neck and looked almost like he had an extra layer of clothing around his shoulders.

The skull motif repeated itself on his right ear lobe which had a black skull earring stud. The left ear lobe didn’t have a stud, but he did have a loop pierced into the top of his ear.

His hair was long but tucked into the hat. A few wisps appearing in the front, but the tail very visible out of the back. It was black but streaked brown. On his face was a light goatee that really looked like a light mustache and some form of a soul patch. Honestly, he probably couldn’t grown a full beard if his life depended on it.

There was of course the fashionista messenger bag. Well, there is no such thing as a fashionista messenger bag. There is however large men totes or in this case a large bag masquerading as a messenger bag. No flaps, no outer pockets, just one long zipper at the top of the bag. Black leather but a wrinkled leather and to his credit, slightly worn. The shiny silver tab on the side said Marc Jacobs.

As he got up to leave, I caught a glimpse of the label on his pants. Dickies. Does Dickies make pants for fashionistas now?

51 - 49

2009-05-15T16:15:00.004-04:00

5/15/09

If there were 100 mistakes, he made 51 and I made 49.

He was Steve Lee. The partner who I started a small business with nine years ago in NYC. We'd met while working together at an ad agency. He was director of design, one of the founding members of the industrial design division of that agency. I was in my first job in NYC and clueless about how things worked in NYC, at the agency, and all things industrial design.

Steve quickly took me under his wing when we started working on a project together for the client I was responsible for. Slowly, meetings morphed into lunch. Lunch morphed into drinks after work, and drinks morphed into dinner. Little by little he became one of my best friends in NYC, and I found myself hanging out with him at his loft on Grand Street.

We were very close. So close that he accompanied me to my then girlfriend's (now wife) college graduation. So close that when an opportunity came for him to branch out on his own, I spent an entire week convincing him how great it would be, and how much cooler it would even be if I was allowed to join him as a partner.

So, there we went - opened our own shop out of his loft. Our own version of the American Dream.

But, it wasn't meant to be. I was too young and Steve needed a person that was more mature, more understanding, more driven, more knowledgeable, and more connected. Steve needed the person that I think I am today. Nine years ago I was just a kid. So we fought. We had some great early success, and looked to be on our way to more, but we fought. We fought constantly. Even in good times. And it made us both miserable.

My favorite memory is when we got our first large check from the client. It was over a quarter million dollars. He was so excited he was going to photocopy the check, and then fax off a copy to his mother and also have it framed. I had never held a check with so many numerals on one line.

It was an ugly breakup. But it was bound to happen. It didn't have to be that ugly, but then again, perhaps there was no choice. I lost one of my closest friends and I learned some valuable lessons.

I never got to tell Steve how much I learned from him, and how much he influenced my life. Or that I never considered him responsible for the breakup. It wasn't entirely my fault, but it wasn't entirely his either. 51 - 49. Let's just say the one extra was the catalyst for the breakup.

This week I found out that Steve is on his last legs, and not expected to beat his illness. His health is failing rapidly and he is not likely to live much longer.

I can't say I'm going to miss Steve- I haven't spoken to him for years.
I can't say that I should reconcile with him. It's pointless and disingenous at best - serves no purpose.
I can't say I'm his friend - we parted rather acrimoniously.

I miss his friendship.

The man deserved to live a long and full life. And I will remember him for the rest of my life.

Months after our parting, I bumped into him on the street. Well, not quite. He didn't see me as I was coming up the stairs of the subway station, and I didn't bother to alert him to my presence. We just walked right by each other like any other strangers in NYC.

Tiny Bubbles

2009-05-13T11:49:00.001-04:00

Man 5/12/09

Name one item of clothing that is a sure sign of warm weather and brings a smile to your face, but at the same time makes you shudder at the thought of wearing it yourself. And no, it’s not lewd or revealing.

Give up?

The Hawaiian Shirt.

See you smiled already.

There was no denying the full force of this Hawaiian shirt. It wasn’t terribly loud. It wasn’t particularly camp. It was very basic as far as shirts in this category go. The man was wearing it as part of his wardrobe and not in some hipster cynical statement making fashion, but as a middle-aged working class man who genuinely believes in the power of the Hawaiian shirt.

It was cut loose and long. Not oversized but definitely flowing. A base yellow color – light almost a warm and pastel dandelion. The print was classic. Station wagons. Not just any station wagons, but those old pre-war Woodies that had the rounded hoods and sides that were paneled entirely in wood. It was the same Woodie printed randomly all over the shirt. And paired with the station wagons were intermittent appearances of a grey silhouetted palm trees. One could just imagine cruising down the coastal road in an old Woodie, windows down and passing palm trees bordering the beach.

His jeans though were another matter entirely. Not surprisingly they were cut loose and for comfort. The color was a light indigo – almost borderline acid wash. But what really caused consternation was that the back of the jeans were a different material and color altogether. Some sort of weird harlequin style had made it into mainstream denim fashion and this man had deemed it acceptable to pair those jeans with this Hawaiian shirt. The material was some sort of cotton, perhaps twill, in a color that was between light grey and dusty white.

Of course, on his feet were these black leather ankle boots. The kind that European men wear and so beloved by NBA notables such as the ex-Knick Charles Oakley. No laces, just elastic on the sides and a toe that was more square than it was sharp.

That smile on the face? Dragged down by the jeans and kicked out the door by those boots.

Black was the other dominant color on him. Black baseball hat with no logo. Black aviator sunglasses sitting on the bill of the black logoless baseball hat. Black laptop bag sitting on his lap. Even the watch was black. Though it was really more of a black and gold combination. The links of the metal band were equal parts gold and black, though the face itself was black.

The most disappointing was the crewneck undershirt that was visible underneath his splendid shirt. It was a little frayed and slightly yellowed from age. Probably clean but definitely well-worn.

New rule. If you are going to wear a Hawaiian shirt, treat it with some respect and don’t sully it an old undershirt. Or at least make sure its not easily viewed by others. Bad fashion pairings is one thing. But that old undershirt is just plain desecration.

Read into Me

2009-05-11T10:41:00.002-04:00

4/30/09 Man

Let’s start at the end.

This is a book that I’m definitely going to buy. I never realized it’s existence, and perhaps I might have even seen someone reading it previously. But without this blog, I most definitely would have never bought the book. I still haven’t but it’s now on my list. Granted, it’s not a given that the book, or even the series is even one to my liking, but the point is that one has to seek out new experiences regardless.

The book?

Istanbul Noir. Apparently, there are a series of noir anthologies published by an independent press that sets each anthology in a different city. The publisher is Akashic Books. And this gentleman on the subway was reading one of their books.

Book aside, he had over his shaggy mane these white over-ear headphones. It’s rare to see white headphones – discounting iPod earphones, and these stood out on the brown hair on his head. The logos on the headphones looked like a “JL”, the mark of WESC. It’s a brand that’s been around for a while, and brand-conscious hipsters know it all too well. Didn’t realize they made music accessories too. Lesson number two. These headphones were not too large, white all over, with a mark on a small button that holds the head adjustments, and on the ear-piece a very noticeable WESC logo.

The shaggy hair was followed by a semi-long shaggy beard. Both brown - a medium grade of that color. No glasses, but very large eyes.

The rest of him was de rigueur hipster:

Black bomber jacket
o Nylon
o Ribbed cuffs
o Looks like a more fashionable re-making of a working class staple

Hoodie
o Black cotton but looks weathered enough to pass for a charcoal grey
o White contrast zipper and hood drawstring to alert you that it came from American Apparel

Eye-popping tee
o Bright mustard yellow tee
o A hint of a hot pink illustration screened on the front

Dark indigo skinny jeans
o Cuffs folded at least 2.5” to reveal a lot of ankle
o Pasty white ankles

Ankle socks
o White athletic standards

Athletic inspired sneakers
o Gola – a somewhat non-mainstream brand favored by those in-the-know
o Blue with white accents

And since it was raining that day, he was carrying a cheap black retractable umbrella.

Top o' the Morning

2009-05-06T12:20:00.001-04:00

Woman 4/30/09

This you’ve never seen before. Perhaps in that far away land which spawned JRR Tolkien or Austin Powers, but certainly not here – not these continental United States of America. Then again, when one is mainly sequestered at home, perhaps one does not see common things as such.

It was a bowler hat. Black, British, and on the left side of the hat a small side feather that was brown in color. This wasn’t your Andes-style woman bowler hat, this was a true British bowler. Although given it’s lack of pomposity and it’s somewhat diminutive size, I’d say that it as probably a hat originally made for a boy, or even perhaps expressly made for a woman.

And so it was that this woman was wearing a black bowler on this damp dreary day in New York City. Not unlike many days in London I’ve been told. The front of her blonde hair was tucked into the hat though most of her straight hair was visible in the back.

And to add to the Anglo-ness of this woman, she was wearing a long red wool coat. That’s right – Beefeater. The bowler hat and the red coat just screamed BEEFEATER!

Coincidentally, she had on these dark skinny jeans that only accentuated the length of her coat, and the Burberry scarf really just kept on adding to the mix. That scarf had the telltale Burberry check pattern with shades of light blue, brown and pink.

What was really standout about this woman was her glasses. A great pair of resin- frames that were a glittering gold color. Somehow, that glitter brought out the blue in her eyes and just made an indelible impression. Imagine the glasses and those eyes without the distractions of the hat and coat. That platinum blonde hair to that mix could be deadly.

By now, you’ve realized that this woman takes her fashion seriously, though not without putting her own touch and personality into it. Yes, she dressed with a point-of-view.

Under the coat was a oatmeal colored cashmere sweater. The cuffs were ribbed, but folded back a good 4 inches – the short sleeves of her coat revealing that touch. And the sweater was hiding what looked to be a white Oxford shirt.

The legs of the jeans were folded back about 3 inches, and on her feet were these blue hiking socks tucked into a pair of boat shoes. Well, a pair of marina moccasins to be exact. Tan with brown tassels and on the outside of each shoe, a panel of nylon. The soles were clearly white.

Her face, as far as one could tell, was natural without any makeup. Two small gold studs in her ears with small diamonds glittering in the artificial light. Her nails were short and clean, and on the left middle finger was a sliver ring band.

She was carrying a tan canvas tote that resembled something one could purchase at a grocery store as a reusable grocery shopping bag.

These Boots were made for Walkin’

2009-04-30T14:47:00.001-04:00

Woman 4/30/09

First I thought: “Puss-in-Boots”. Then it was “Captain Morgan”, and finally I settled on “The Three Musketeers”. Those boots that she was wearing were nothing like I had ever seen. An 18th century throwback, a Pat Benatar 80’s video, and a hint of the boot revival of this new millennium. Defying description yet begging and clamoring to be immortalized on paper or at least in the blogsphere.

The boots were knee high. The color was a slate grey with dark shades of black. Imagine handling a piece of pristine white paper after you’ve read your morning paper. Crumple the paper with your ink stained hands. Treat it like you were trying to stain it black while ironing permanent lines onto it. That’s what the leather looked like. The boots also had a 2 inch plus fold at the top. That extra layer making it look like a Musketeers replica boot. The heels were short - about an inch high only. There were 7 shiny stainless steel buttons equally spaced vertically on the outside of each boot. Each button was about the size of a quarter. And the toe area of each boot was as pristine white as the rest was dirty black.

The rest of her was actually not like those boots at all.

Her hair was in a ponytail, no bangs, but the ponytail stretched all the way to her lower back. She’s been growing that brown hair for a long time, and at this point, there’s not much one can do with hair that length one suspects.

Her face? No makeup. Basic black framed rectangular glasses.

She was however wearing this short summer dress. It was green with a print of mini-wildflowers. From a distance, they looked like assorted small flowers like daffodils and daisies. The skirt reached to about mid-thigh, and was a very deep cut v-neck. However, in keeping with her modesty, she had on black tights, and a black scoop neck tee. So, really she’d layered what was a very short and revealing summer dress over a black tee and leggings. And if that wasn’t conservative enough, she also had on a black cotton hoodie – though that might have been on account of the cool morning weather.

Perhaps she’s one of those woman who are a closet extravert. About 6 drinks in, and she turns into this flirty and aggressive woman who wears those boots precisely because of the attitude they convey. Everyone has one of those friends. The drinking alter ego that emerges as the gregarious Hyde to their original meek Jekyll.

It is Thursday. Perhaps we’ll see Ms. Hyde out tonight.

The Young Ones

2009-04-23T21:35:00.001-04:00

Girl 4/22/09

Iron Fist. That was the name on the hoodie with the all-over print. That hoodie print was repeats of this cartoon-like alien head, all done in multiple colors and haphazardly arranged. The head reminded me of the old Area 51 Martians that we used to see in old comic books. All those pink, green, blue and yellow heads. The zipper pull was that same alien head in blue. The reverse side of the hood was black, as were the ribbed cuffs. The hoodie looked a slightly too large on her. A stark contrast to the jet black skinny jeans she was wearing.

That hoodie was easily the loudest piece of clothing on this young girl. But by no means the last. Her shoes were in the mold of canvas Chuck Taylors, but with a twist that matched her hoodie. From the front, the shoes were a standard black canvas high-top. The long tongue was flipped over to reveal a reverse that was a bright neon pink. The back and the near-rear sides of the shoes were decorated with a print that looked like someone threw up hot neon colored noodles and other assorted mostly digested food items.

Her black JanSport backpack had matte black stars printed all over. And the left shoulder strap had her name written in block letters running vertically from top to bottom. She also had her name on the front of the pack, right under the JanSport logo.

She was carrying her black down bomber. Short and white a hood that was trimmed in faux grey fur. There was a print on the jacket, but indistinguishable the way that the jacket was placed on her lap.

For all the color and attitude her clothing was saying to the world. The rest of her was really quite plain. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was full of curls. The bangs barely covered her forehead. There was no trace of makeup, no earrings (though the holes were there), and no accessories of any kind. Heck, she didn’t even have an iPod. And she had on a pair of basic black rectangular framed glasses.

Halfway through the ride, she pulled out a day-planner, and proceeded to look her calendar over and made some entries with a pen.

Could this girl who dressed in a hoodie made by an obscure South African street brand be the same plain girl using an old fashioned day-planner?

The Shape of Things

2009-04-22T11:32:00.002-04:00

Woman 4/22/09

Honesty is the best policy. And to be completely honest, I noticed this woman because of the shape of her body. She walked past me, and from the rear she had this great silhouette. The shoulders were broad but just so, and totally in proportion to the rest of her lean physique.

Perhaps it was an optical illusion brought on by her long cardigan. She was wearing this heather grey full-length cardigan that stretched down to her hips. That cashmere-like fabric hugged her frame and gave the already lean 5’7” woman even more length. Add the jeans that showed off her slim legs and you could see why that shape caught the eye.

Curiously, she wasn’t much of a fashion statement with the clothes she had on. The v-neck cardigan covered up most of her inner layers, but you could just see the scoop-neck lace top she was wearing. The shoes were just basic Nike runners in white. It was really that one grey cardigan that made the outfit.

What was interesting about her were the accessories she was carrying. Her handbag was this small duffle-style bag that was a faux-forest camouflage print. You’d find a similar print at Cabela’s or even Bass Pro Shops. Her small retractable umbrella was this faux-animal stripe print. Reminded me of a dress from DVF I once saw. And just when you think there was some ultra-trendy woman hiding under her J.Crew outfit, she was also carrying this cheap corner grocery store plastic shopping bag, which was holding what seemed to be plastic food containers. Threw everything for a loop.

She looked like she could be the younger sister of Cecilia Dean. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, no make-up, but a certain kind of aura about her.

A pair of black over-ear headphones sitting over her pulled back hair. A rounded rectangular shape that had a ring of silver inside, like a track around a stadium. It was a pleasant surprise when the small words, SONY, discreetly showed up on the frame. The black cord was attached to a small black remote control unit that she had clipped onto her cardigan.

My guess would be that this woman was either very active in terms of leisure physical activity – perhaps a regular swimmer, with a previous competitive background, or that she was in a profession that required her to stay in shape. Dancer? Trainer?

She pulled out a small Japanese book from her bag, swapping that with her umbrella. She never did the book though. A quick glance, and then she closed her eyes.

Last I saw, she had her right hand propping up her head, and her elbow on her knee. Must have been really tired.

Ipcress

2009-04-17T10:24:00.001-04:00

Man 4/16

There is an old story about Beethoven that he always deliberately placed a wrong note in everything he composed, because nothing was ever supposed to be perfect. Not sure where I heard it told, but it rings true enough for me.

This man was perfectly attired. He looked like he could have been the younger brother of Michael Caine – circa The Ipcress Files. Anyone who knows men’s fashion knows that Michael Caine movie and its widespread influence.

Let’s start with the Burberry raincoat. After all, if you’re channeling Michael Caine and dressing like a closet British dandy, you have to start with the classics. Black raincoat with the telltale Burberry check lining for everyone to see.

Next up, the suit, shirt and tie. The suit was a charcoal grey window-pane check that was made up of the subtlest of blue lines. It was a standard issue two button and finished with cuffs on the pants. The shirt was light blue but betrayed a barely detectable check pattern upon a closer look. No French cuffs though – thank god. And his tie was the modern take on the GOP power tie. It was thin maroon and lavender stripes on a standard width but the fabric was a silk sheen. Immaculate knot, of course and everything buttoned-up.

So, where’s the closet dandy come from? Good question. His socks. I love interesting socks that make sense, not for the sake of being shocking, but just compliment the look. His were a grey with these dark block patterns – almost Mondrian inspired, except one of the blocks was this bold purple.

The shoes were a standard good black leather split-toe lace-ups. Well cared for, and expensive I’m sure.

The Michael Caine part? Oh yes. Well, picture Michael Caine from that movie. Now, crop the hair shorter and perhaps slightly receding. Color everything white, grey and a sprinkle of black. Add a well trimmed goatee. The glasses here would be modern and more architectural. Rectangular, a composite metal frame, and the arms have die-cut blocks to suggest a modernist influence.

So, what’s the immaculately dressed man carrying? Interestingly enough, a messenger bag from Porter. A black canvas messenger bag that has two large pockets in the front panel. A shoulder strap and two carrying handles. Well, we know he has good taste, and we know he has money to spend. Porter is a little left field. Maybe it’s his way of saying that he’s more hip that his attire lets on.

For the entire ride our man was reading from his Kindle 2. I’m not sure that the leather cover was the standard issue Amazon version. It just didn’t seem to be his style.

Observe without prejudice

2009-04-15T10:47:00.000-04:00

Man 4/15/09

It could have been the magazine article I was reading about the Taliban insurgency in Afghanistan. Or the Muslim man with the skull cap a few rows over in the train. But it occurred to me that sitting directly across from me was a man who could have easily worked on a Hollywood film as a clichéd American version of the secret sleeper cell terrorist. The one that blends in though not quite blending in because obviously he has something to hide.

He was actually sleeping. Not the usual homeless man huddled into the corner sleeping. His head was drooped down, occasionally bobbing, his shoulders were slumped over and his legs slightly more open that usual.

His head was crowned with a thick mane of hair. Wavy, not quite curly, but black and plentiful. It was long enough to appear unkempt and unstyled, much like the full beard on his face. His thick eyebrows and dark circles under the eyes did nothing for his perceived state of well-being. Add the few pockmarks on his cheeks and the occasional pimple dotting his forehead, and this picture of a tired young man with too many burdens starts to appear easily.

For a Hollywood movie cliché, he certainly dressed the part as well. The jacket was this olive green with military inspired touches. Though it was really more of a field or hunter’s jacket in origin. It was made from a thin corduroy fabric, and had two small snap-flap patch pockets on the chest, and two larger similar ones lower down. The shoulder epaulets weren’t functional and neither were the tabs near the cuffs, though those did have two small metal rivets on them. The brass zipper went all the up to the stand collar where there was a zipper that hid the stowaway hood.

Adding to the look. He had on a grey chunky wool sweater. It was actually a full-zip turtleneck, and since he had it zipped up most of the way, the large collar almost covered his entire neck and made the collar of his jacket seem small in comparison.

His thin brown corduroy pants matched the brown leather athletic-inspired sneakers he was wearing - my guess; Skechers.

He did have a simple gold wedding band on his ring finger, but nothing else really.

Given that it was rush-hour on the subway. The man was sleeping, disheveled and traveling without a messenger bag or backpack, I could see the NYPD doing some racial profiling and keeping a closer eye on him. That would be sad but true. Though if they did watch him, they’d know that he was a little too stylized to be a real threat to anyone.

After all, if you’re wearing a jacket that looks like it could have been a knock-off of a Ralph Lauren or Belstaff jacket, you probably are just a cliché and nothing more.

Sha La La La La!

2009-04-12T15:08:00.000-04:00

Woman 3/24

Parents generally dress their young children in bright colors and all sorts of cute clothing. So, it’s not really interesting to document toddlers or kids since in their own colorful way they all dress the same.

In NYC, the strollers are either McClaren, Bugaboo or for the even more discerning Phil & Teds. Every so often, you get a Baby Bjorn. If you wander or pass the more Chinese areas, you get the grandmas who use makeshift wraps to bundle the baby to their backs. What you don’t see very often is a baby in a sling.

It was a fleece sling. Red fleece strapped from the left shoulder and around her right waist. You could just make out a small head resting on her left breast and her right hand was gentling patting the baby’s butt. You could also see that the baby was wrapped in a banana yellow waffle blanket. On the baby’s head was a white cotton beanie with an illustrated animals print.

Given the size of the sling and the small size of the head. The baby couldn’t have been more than 8 – 12 weeks old, if at that.

The mom herself was wearing in a green knit hat. Chunky wool with a short visor. Her winter coat was a long black down jacket with a purple lining and a detachable hood. With the baby across her body, and the jacket zipped up, there wasn’t much else to observe of her upper half.

Underneath her winter clothing, she was dressed for comfort. Light grey sweat pants that featured a two-colored triple stripe of navy and white running down the side. A bleach spot on the bottom of the outside of her left leg cuff was also quite prominent. The shoes were Asics sneakers. Blue and gold logo stripes. Basic, functional and comfortable.

She had with her this large blue tote bag. The logo on the bag? NCURA which stands for National Council of University Research Administrators. The seal said “50th Anniversary Meeting. Celebrating the Science. Supporting the Scientist.”

In that tote bag, she pulled out a green polka-dot purse, apparently to reach the banana wedged underneath inside the tote. And with the purse safely back in the tote, she proceed to peel and eat the banana.

New Yorker State of Mind

2009-04-07T12:39:00.001-04:00

Woman 4/2/09

It seems to be impossible for a true New Yorker not be aware of fashion. It doesn’t matter if you’re a fashionista, a hipster, a b-boy, a homeboy, punk, a rocker, suit or construction worker. Everyone has that unique style marker that places them as New Yorkers.

Whenever I see someone wearing something patently mid-western or suburban, the automatic assumption is that they are tourists or visiting from out of town. New Yorkers might wear sweatpants, but they don’t rock Fruit of the Loom discount specials.

She couldn’t have been a New Yorker. I still don’t believe it. But when you’re reading a tattered paperback copy of The Blair Reader in the subway, you’re a New Yorker. Hate to say it, but show me another city where this college writing handbook is leisure reading for a mass transit rider who is in her mid to late forties. Yes, it has to be in mass transit, not a college campus.

So, you know she was wearing sweats. All 200 plus pounds of her jammed into these off-white pants made out of cotton. With all the unsightly bulges and human flesh pressing against that fabric, even I felt suffocated. There was a stain on the left knee area, and possibly more elsewhere.

Her black Crocs matched her black athletic socks. People are already shuddering and it’s only halfway through this description.

Continuing on this journey, she was wearing a lavender jacket. Nothing fancy, a plain LL Bean jacket that had a fleece lining and two side pockets. LL Bean calls it their Warm-up jacket, and the logo is on the zipper-pull. Underneath she had a wool cardigan, possibly a vest, but either way in an oatmeal color and unbuttoned. And her base-layer was a ribbed mock turtleneck in red.

Besides the book, it slowly dawned on me that she must be a New Yorker because her accessories were too gauche to be anything but. A silver necklace hung around her nexk, with a pendant that looked to be the size of a Metrocard. That pendant looked like a small amber colored stained glass window hanging on her neck. On her right hand, was a big silver bangle. Her engagement ring finger had another big chunky silver ring. Her watch on the left hand was a large ladies model – silver with white face.

The hair on her looked like William Katt from my favorite TV series (of all time), The Greatest American Hero. And somehow she had done her own version of the smoky-eyes look. There was a slight trace of hair on her upper lip, and a prominent flesh-colored mole on the right side of her chin. She also had on black framed glasses.

The handbag, at first glance, looked worn, but in fact was a brown with gold rubbings that made it appear faded. The faux crocodile skin pattern made it somewhat interesting. And the fact that her companion bag was this Sierra Club logo-ed black gym bag just added to the confusion.

So what do we have here? A New Yorker? Has to be. Too many clues for her not to be. She’s one fashion challenged New Yorker though. Guess rules are meant to be broken, just like the mould.

Veteran Hipster

2009-03-31T17:34:00.002-04:00

Woman 3/26/09

You’re a woman. Probably in your early forties, though mid-forties is not entirely out of the question. And you’ve dressed this way since you were probably in your teens, or maybe twenties. You’re the veteran hipster. You never graduated to a high-level corporate job, certainly didn’t get married and have children, and still attending concerts and dinner parties in the far outposts of the city.

What do you wear?

Well, if you’re the veteran female hipster, in winter, you start with the coat. A vintage number, red with a sort of black stencil print that almost looks like embroidered paisley. That abstract pattern complements the frayed edges that lines the entire coat. Plus, the two side pockets share the same frayed edging on the top opening. To add to the hipster-ness of the coat, each of the three coat buttons are made of a different material, though same size and shape.

Your shoes would be the next most important item of clothing. These would be suede. An orange suede. A faded and dirty orange color on boots that run to midcalf; each with a buckle and strap across the lower front.

The rest of your outfit?

Well, you’d never be a stickler for matching, so you’d be wearing one of your favorite black dresses. Only this one features an allover mini-polka dot print. The stockings would be black fishnet, and the scarf a basic purple. Not exactly clashing, but just enough to suggest your continued bohemian lifestyle.

Your accessories?

Well, if its raining. You’ll probably have a small compact umbrella tucked into your coat pocket. Red of course, the umbrella would be. You wouldn’t be carrying a run of the mill handbag. And because you’re on your way to a party, you’d be carrying clutch instead. A large dark aquamarine clutch that has a triangular top flap. Leather, but definitely not luxury designer unless it was vintage.

Your earrings wouldn’t be run of the mill either. They’d be large hoops – silver, but with ornamental extras attached and dangling in the center of the hoops. I’d guess it was an ethnic design, maybe Native American given the Dreamcatcher resemblance, but could as easily be South Indian or Central American. You’d be wearing at least one ring. A large amber stone set in silver. But on your right index finger lest someone pre-judges you.

Your outfit aside?

The hair is red. Well, dyed red but the black roots would be visible. It’s shoulder length of course since you’ve had it this way for at least 2 decades. No bangs but wavy on the bottom, almost curly there. You’re not cutting your hair short for anyone just yet.

The make-up would be precise. Red lipstick – standard. Eyeliner that is a glittering silver, typically found on younger women, though not a problem for you. Long black lashes – check. And blush. Don’t forget the blush.

The nails? A British racing green. Because if they can’t tell already, you like darker shades of green.

Some finishing touches?

A flower tattoo on your right wrist. Something you got a while back since it’s slightly faded and in need of touch up one of these years.

The last thing?

A Chinese silk embroidery covered mirror. Not the lipstick case, just the mirror. Reinforces your street credibility.

Super Fan

2009-03-26T11:12:00.001-04:00

3/26/09

It’s rare to see a woman Super Fan in New York. They exist, but by and large its really just men who are decked out in their team’s apparel. What’s even more rare then is the female Super Fan who supports a team not from New York. That’s right, in this city where they love their teams, there are Super Fans who proudly show their loyalty - New York public condemnation be damned.

She had on a Pittsburgh Steelers canvas varsity jacket. Big bold Steelers logo embroidered on the back sitting on a black background. On the front left, another embroidery of the Steelers logo with the words “Super Bowl” above and “Champions” below the logo. On the front right, roman numerals indicating the Super Bowls won - starting from bottom, IX, X, XIII, XIV, XL, three rows in all.

The sleeves are a bright Pittsburgh Steeler yellow with the actual Super Bowl logo patches sewn on. The left sleeve had the logos of Super Bowls XIII, XV and XL, while the right had IX and X. The cuffs, waist and collar were done in a yellow and black striped rib-knit.

A football fan would know that Pittsburgh just won their sixth Super Bowl, and that this fan’s jacket was at least almost 3 years old given that Super Bowl XL took place in 2006. Nevertheless, this Super Fan wore hers proudly.

The rest of her was pretty working class, straight out of Roseanne I’d say. Faded black jeans, a black cotton hoodie, a white oxford shirt and a crew-neck white cotton tee. White Avia sneakers. Which really means that she dressed like a man living in blue collar Pittsburgh.

She was a short petite natural blonde with her hair tied back in a ponytail. No make-up and no nail polish. Though she did have on these basic round-ish glasses.

There were three things about her that I’m still not quite sure about:

1. Earrings. She had these silver earrings that looked like they were tusks coming out of the lobe, almost but not quite connecting on the bottom. Something I am sure I had seen before on countless goth or punk kids roaming NYC.
2. Messenger bag. It was black leather. The top flap had a white heraldic cross (that stylized medieval cross), and silver square studs around the edges. It was like a biker version of a messenger bag, only you could probably buy it at Wilson’s.
3. Lord of the Rings. She was reading a paperback copy of LOTR, The Fellowship of the Ring. It was a fairly recent copy since the cover referenced the movie.

NFL team varsity jacket and the blue-collar outfit made sense together. The earrings, messenger bag and the Tolkien book. What was a simple chicken noodle soup just became a chicken gumbo.

I miss the chicken gumbo served up by Morry’s Deli in the south side of Chicago.

He is The One.

2009-03-23T11:26:00.000-04:00

Man 3/23/09

In a subway car filled with metro-sexuals this morning, there was one that stood head and shoulders above the rest. I daresay that he probably refers to himself in the third person or tells everyone to call him by his nickname: Neo, because clearly he is The One.

Why is this man, The One?

Because he carries a woman’s handbag. Yes, a woman’s handbag. Without shame. Without irony. No tongue-in-cheek. No Sarah Palin plebian-flirt wink. A real woman’s handbag. Not a man-bag. Not a murse. A real woman’s handbag.

The bag itself isn’t very feminine nor is it even very fashionable. It’s reminiscent of something vintage, though clearly still a bag for women. It was a brown pebbled leather. Not chocolate or dark brown, but almost a faded grey-brown. It was about medium-sized and had to basic leather handles and minimal stainless steel hardware - hand-carrying only, no shoulder straps. The bag had white contrast stitching around the edges, and the zipper on the top was pulled shut.

The rest of him was to be expected from a metro-sexual. His winter coat was black wool, but came with a interesting detail. The lapels and the cuffs were trimmed with a tartan fabric. And the entire coat had edges that were frayed. From the lapels to the bottom of the coat, frayed edges and loose threads. All together a great touch of a basic black coat. I wonder if it was self-altered or if a designer actually thought if it –kudos to the designer regardless.

The coat was buttoned up the entire time, but you could see the dark blue skinny tie over his dark maroon shirt. You could also just make out the collar of a cotton zip sweater – it was navy blue. And the jeans were the basic dark indigo slim-fit denim. Curiously given the rest of his deconstructionist flair, the jeans seemed to be well kept.

The shoes really cemented his membership into the metro-sexual club. They were very worn and weathered black leather loafers. Not your typical loafers but rather a more European version with a high cut. The tongue was the design focal point and he deliberately tucked his jeans behind them to show off those shoes better. The tips and sides of the shoes were extremely worn and from afar looked like brown patches on black.

His Bose in-ear earphones linked to a player in his left breast pocket. And the rest of him was free of jewelry or any other accessories.

His hair was short and super curly. And he was also sporting a full beard that was groomed just so. The bushy eyebrows just really added to what seemed to be a man who had a lot of hair.

So. What have we learned?

Wow. A man carrying a woman’s handbag without shame. I don’t know if I am quite ready for this revolution.

I think I’ll sit this one out, Neo. You and Morpheous can go kick ass with Trinity and Niobe. I’m just gonna hang here with The Oracle.

Styling me softly

2009-03-10T12:51:00.001-04:00

Woman 3/6/09

At first glance, I really didn’t think there was much there to document. But as I sat down across from her in the train, all the little details started to really appear. It was then that I realized that this girl was stylish in her own way, and for her, the look was all in the details.

I think it was the shoes that clued me in. They were silver. Not white or grey, but really sharp silver. They were these athletic-inspired silver shoes that looked to be a cross between ballet flats and sneakers. Even the laces were silver.

Her coat was this black trench but trimmed in red. The only color on her, apart from the shoes, was the red outline of her trench coat. The coat also had a slight military flavor with shoulder tabs. Though the belted waist, cuff straps and large black buttons suggested a very utilitarian function.

Her tote bag was another item that looked very basic at first glance. Then you realized that the top of the bag had a fur trim – black so that it blended in with the rest of the tote. And the straps actually had a functioning stainless steel clip buckle on each end attached to the tote. The bag itself had a quilted pattern similar to a puffy coat.

Her hair was a stylized Afro that looked like she used to have dreads but perhaps had recently cut them off though the curls still show a little. For whatever reason, she reminded me of Nina Simone.

The pearl earrings she had on gave a completely different vibe from the large metal medieval ring on her left index finger. What they were meant to say when used in this tandem I have no idea.

All these little details that one might have missed.

If I could only decipher what she was trying to say.

Shaft 2.0

2009-03-10T12:30:00.000-04:00

Man 3/6/09

I’m sure he knew that he resembled a celebrity. And I’m sure that he put on his clothes knowing that he was going out of his way to dress like he resembled a celebrity. Which begs the question: ”Why do people want to look like celebrities?”

He looked like Issac Hayes circa 1973, still relatively fresh from the success of Shaft. That shaved head with a cultivated beard and goatee. And he even had on a pair of gold frame aviator sunglasses – he was in the subway mind you. His coat was this maroon leather car coat, a little weathered, but not quite vintage. Standard modern 3 button with a belt across the waist. His pants were also leather, though black. I don’t know what a mostly leather outfit says about you. But when you pair it with a bald head, groomed beard and gold aviators - it says Issac Hayes.

Still there were modern touches that made him more 2.0 versus a carbon copy. For starter’s his shoes were black leather high-top sneakers – not your typical 70’s footwear. And this guy was carrying a Louis Vuitton Monogram messenger bag; with straps that were slightly frayed suggesting frequent use. His t-shirt underneath the coat was lack, with a print of something done in gray. And his chunky cotton scarf was also black.

His build reminded me of a linebacker, broad shoulders and this thick neck. And as he was looking into his messenger bag for what later turned out to be a rather large appointment book, he actually pulled out these black hand-exercise grips. Not exactly a typical resident of an LV messenger bag. But perhaps appropriate if you were very into working out?

So, what do we know about Shaft 2.0? He works out, he still likes leather, Louis Vuitton is his favorite leathergoods maker, and he prefers sneakers to more formal shoes. Sounds about right to me.

In Rainbows

2009-03-03T10:29:00.001-05:00

Woman 2/26/09

I’ve barely been at this blog thing for 4 months, and I think I’m getting soft. Either that or I’m seeing beauty in a whole new different way. Seriously. What people mock or find weird, I’m starting to like. It’s really the ones who follow the rules or try to hard to be someone else that I find out-of-place.

This girl is really on the fringes of what most would consider odd dressing. Only for me, it totally made sense.

Where do I start? How about the smallest item? She had on this broach. A spider shaped broach with gold plated spine, limbs and feelers, and a red ruby-esque stone where the body should be. Maybe it was a beetle, and not a spider. Pinned to the right lapel of her brown double-breasted winter coat.

The rest of her was color. The shoes were a pair of Diesel sneakers that were a light blue, with fuschia accents and yellow laces. Her glasses were these oval-ish frames that were multi-color; like a kaleidoscope or patchwork of mis-matched squares. Her gloves were black and pink striped, and fingerless. On her neck was a mutli-color scarf – reminded me of something Kanye West might sport. She must be a Yeezy fan.

There were a couple things I didn’t quite get though. She was wearing these purple sweatpants, which looked a bit loose on her. I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt, but the color was definitely her style. And sticking out from her coat sleeves were the sleeves of this mini-polka dot pattern – black and white. Not sure if that was a sweater but the color totally threw me off. The chocolate winter brown coat is fine, but black and white seems a bit too stark for her. Maybe there was a more interesting pattern beyond the sleeves?

In truth, the entire outfit really only worked for me because of her hair. It was this fierce 60’s style pouf that was equal part The Supremes and Kelis. Seriously, this girl knew that she was rocking something totally different and it was part of her identity. She dressed like she had a point-of-view.

Even her iPod was attached to these magenta-cabled earphones. These wires lead to a pair of over-ear headphones that were a slight metallic blue. You can’t tell me that was a coincidence.

I wonder what she was listening to?

Suit of the Times

2009-02-27T13:23:00.004-05:00

Man 2/25/09

Thom Browne has been the men’s designer of this decade. Hedi Slimane and Christopher Bailey probably run a very close second, but when all is said and done, if Giorgio Armani owned the 80’s and Prada the 90’s, then Thom Browne is for the man of the new millennium.

Curiously, the most influential designer of the decade doesn’t have a great retail following. You don’t see too many men wearing recognizable Thom Browne clothing. And even more so, you don’t see them riding in the subway.

So, was this man wearing Thom Browne?

Let’s look at the checklist:

Grey slim fit suit with slightly shrunken jacket
Slim suit pants that are cut-off at ankles
Dark charcoal grey suede desert boots – probably Clarks and not TB brand
Slim tie – this one was black with gold flecks woven into the fabric; slightly more flair than the standard TB tie, but still within the aesthetic
Silver Tie bar – ditto
White shirt – collar slightly larger than expected, so probably not a TB shirt
Form-fitting Winter overcoat – this one in tan but my buddy who wears TB religiously has one similar, so I would say yes
Socks – this is winter and I’m sure TB allows for this concession to the cold
Close cropped hair – remember the TB aesthetic also includes a certain grooming style
No visually distracting jewelry – like a giant watch or earrings or whatever else comes to mind that suggests bling

Two things stood out to me though.

His messenger bag – it was this black nylon messenger bag from Diesel that was packed to the gills, and probably weighed more than everything he was wearing combined. It was neither sleek, nor well kept, given the state of its wear and tear.

The other was his choice of reading material. The latest issue of FourFourTwo.

Style and soccer do go together. Just ask Thierry Henry.

Tank Girl 2009

2009-02-23T16:33:00.001-05:00

Woman 2/19/09

Anyone who remembers Tank Girl would appreciate this posting. Not the movie, though I never saw it, so I won’t disparage it, but the comics that introduced Jamie Hewlett to comic world, and later to popular culture as a co-creator of Gorillaz.

My first thought was that she was just really cool and comfortable in her own skin. The second was that association with that character I had forgotten long ago – Tank Girl.

Her hair was dyed red. Not absolute red, but a shade that was somewhere in the neighborhood of a deep pink or a light orange. The sides of her head were actually shaved, though somewhat grown out a little by this point, and that red-ish hair was pulled from right to left and back into a ponytail; held in place by a yellow rubberband. You could just make out the dark roots at the crown.

The motorcycle racing jacket fit her perfectly. This black leather racer jacket had white patches on the shoulders and two stripes on each bicep. There were two small adjustable straps and buckles on each side of the jacket; right where the kidneys are. And she left the sleeves unzipped.

She was also wearing this grey hoodie under the jacket. And it was actually longer than the jacket. Her black work boots looked like Docs. But the stitching was just slightly off the standard, so I can’t say for sure. The jeans were a slim fit, not skinny, and of a light faded blue.

Her face had these delicate features. Angular and sharp, but delicate in a porcelain manner. Her nose was sharp, and the eyes were blue. No make-up though and barely a trace of lipgloss. On each ear, she had 3 small rings. Nothing fancy, just basic silver earrings.

She was also carrying a small messenger bag. This grey nylon number that was worn over the left shoulder. It was a Puma bag, but again, nothing fancy. Very functional.

The best part?

She had these white cotton gloves on. And on the top of the gloves were silk-screened prints of bones, done in black. Normally, this would be the start of a novelty outfit or for some costume for Halloween – skeleton gloves. On her, they were perfect.

Suzanne Somers Fan

2009-02-18T10:50:00.002-05:00

Because rules are meant to be broken.

Because some people hate my writing.

Because Suzanne Somers helped you master your thighs.

Because you can't make this up.

Because this leads to more questions.

Whistling Dixie

2009-02-18T10:33:00.000-05:00

Man 2/11/09

People use their clothes to make statements all the time. And this gentleman was no different. At first I thought he was perhaps an aging hipster – though not very hipster in style.

The hat was this faded baseball cap – a camouflage print actually, with a Confederate flag patch stitched on the front. Now, normally, the typical reaction is that he is either a good ol’ boy from the South or perhaps making an ironic statement. The thing about it was, he was also reading this thick hardcover book: “The South was Right”. And if there was a more opportune time in our recent history – with President Obama’s election and President Abraham Lincoln’s bicentennial, and this being Black History month – well, let’s just say that Civil War awareness is at an all time high this month.

So, what does a defender of the South dress like on the NYC subway?

A faded charcoal grey denim jacket. The Levi’s red tab clearly visible on the left chest pocket. Classic. And underneath a light grey athletic hoodie; fully zipped up. I guess the militia look really only started to dawn on me when I realized he was wearing Army green cargo pants. It looked like something one would get from Army Surplus. Basic cargo pockets on the front of the pants, and two pockets on the rear, all with Velcro flaps. The pants were made from a cotton twill.

On his feet? Black Doc Martens. Yes, Docs. Cap toe, mind you so not the classic ones you remember from the 80’s. But still Docs with that unmistakable stitching.

He had short hair underneath that Dixie cap. A full beard, but not quite overwhelming or overgrown. Just about to get scruffy. His eyebrows were dark. No jewelry, watch or earrings. I’d say he wouldn’t seem out of place even if he was in the deep South.

He was about halfway through the book. He stood the entire time he was in the subway car, leaning against the door. Moving when he had to let passengers in or out. Perhaps done with his book for now, he put it into his messenger bag, which was this basic black nylon number with a TL brand logo on the top flap.

For the rest of the train ride, he watched this Chinese mother tend to her two small children. The oldest was probably around 5, and the younger about 4 at most. What was so interesting? Well, the older boy had a camouflage winter down jacket on, and his brother was wearing camouflage sweats.

Kindred spirits maybe?

Son of a Scotch Peddlar

2009-02-11T14:52:00.004-05:00

Man 2/6

A kilt. He was wearing a kilt. The coldest day of the year and the man was wearing a kilt. Not a traditional one either, mind you. It was a fashion kilt – without a real tartan but a textured brown fabric with geometric squares.

You’d think that there would be some much going against him, what with the kilt on the coldest winter day. But no. He pulled the look off with great panache and made it into a personal style rather than a costume that one only wears on a Scottish holiday. I actually envy that guy. Not only having the chutzpah to wear a kilt, but being able to pull off the entire look so effortlessly.

So, what did the rest of him look like?

For starters, he had a leather double-breasted overcoat on. It was a very worn, old leather coat with these incredibly large 70’s or early 80’s lapels. The color reminded me of a chocolate M&M. The jacket reached to just above the hemline of his kilt.

His head was a mop-top mess of dirty blonde wavy hair. It was long and it just about blended in with his shaggy beard. The round back frame glasses on his face made him look like a homeless version of Mike Mills from REM. The parts of his face left untouched by the beard showed scars from acne. Wrapped around his neck was a brown scarf – wool and not too distinctive.

The kilt wasn’t the only Scottish influence on him. The blazer sleeves showing revealed a windowpane pattern – blue and yellow lines on a dark brown texture. The white tattersall shirt was finished off at the top with a tartan tie. He also had on brown leather gloves.

The piece-de-resistance had to be the riding boots. They were a leather and canvas combination that stretched to just under the knee. From the top of the calf to the top of the foot was the dark brown canvas, and the rest of the shoe was a tan leather. The boots were as worn as the leather coat. And sticking out were equally high tan socks.

Over his ears were a set of over-ear headphones that were orange in color. Plugged into the iPod that he checked every so often; always placing it back into his left breast coat pocket. He did also carry a small purple Bergdorf Goodman shopping bag, which he later placed into a small Apple store plastic drawstring shopping bag.

Did I happen to mention how much I liked his look? The Satorialist would have loved him.

All Together Now

2009-02-11T14:50:00.001-05:00

Woman 2/5/09

Someone remarked to me the other day that a particular item of clothing I was wearing was really cool. It was the rest of my clothes that made no sense in relation to that piece. The exact words were “ but that shirt and tie…”.

The moral of the story? Sometimes, taken individually, one can have great pieces, but when worn with the wrong combination it just becomes like Popeye’s chicken served with foie gras.

You couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Just about six feet tall, and wearing a down winter coat that was the perfect shade of Heinz Ketchup red. The fuscia pink Juicy Couture sweats followed. And on her feet were a pair of Uggs-not-Uggs boots covered with long fur There was a snowflake motif on the heel of those boots. A somewhat matching purple handbag finished off her look.

The coat itself looked like a brand that had knocked off Moncler – right down to having a crest and a number patch on the left arm. Still, it was a very fashionable number, and I’ve seen the same jacket on a few other New Yorkers. The jacket had a hood that was trimmed in fur. And under that jacket, you could make out a cotton hoodie that was a multi-colored pastel lines print.

The sweats were basic Juicy Couture done in fuscia pink. They hugged her waist, butt and thighs, just giving slightly at her calves before being tucked into her boots.

Those boots initially didn’t seem all that fashionable. The first thought that popped into mind was that someone had cut Chewbacca off just at the calf and hollowed it out so that someone might keep their feet warm. But the more one looked, the better they got. They were genuinely fashionable. Cutting edge for some, but still well within the Generally Accepted Fashion Principles.

Taken individually, each piece would probably not be out of place in some fashionista’s closet. But put it all together, and that woman was attracting attention like a body in full rigor getting ready to spawn pupae.

Forgot to mention her hair. Small black braids that were curled like hair would be in large curling rollers. There were no rollers, but those curls were at least 2.5 inches in diameter.

Maybe it was the hair.

Grease Lightning

2009-02-03T10:36:00.002-05:00

Woman 1/29/09

I didn’t pay her much attention at first because initially only her back was visible to me. She had just walked into the subway car, and almost immediately a trio of tween girls started giggling and pointing in her direction. Kids can be cruel, and their amusement could only mean she was interesting.

She had on a high school letterman jacket. A red and white number. The sleeves were white leather, and the jacket was mostly red wool. The large white letters on the back spelled out Stuyvesant. Could it have been for the famed Manhattan public high school for over-achievers where everyone hopes to send their children? I actually know a lot of people from that school.

On the left sleeve was a patch that indicated “Capt”, and stitched on the left breast was the name “Wendy”. No sport was indicated anywhere on the jacket. Perhaps it was something I had overlooked.

The jacket itself was about two sizes too big for her. It literally overwhelmed her frame. That oversize was exacerbated by her skinny jeans. Basic American Eagle skinny jeans in faded indigo. She had on what looked to be Uggs-not-Uggs on her feet. The jeans were not tucked into the shoes, so clearly they weren’t your typical chunky winter boots.

It was really her hair and make-up that set her so apart. The hair was platinum blonde. It was probably a little longer than shoulder length, but worn today in a ponytail. Her make-up was thick. Very white, very deliberately applied, and very Dita von Teese. It was a Fifties vibe with a modern twist. Her lips were ruby red, and aside from long black lashes, she also was wearing glitter eyeliner. It looked like there were a line of rhinestones attached to her eyelids.

She finally sat down and pulled from one pocket a small paper bag. Pulled out a cookie, and starting eating. She probably only went through about three cookies before she stopped and put the bag away. From another pocket she pulled out a small notebook. The cover was glittery and the color was a reflective shade of red. She had a pencil with her and jotted down a few lines before putting that away. As she got up to exit the train, I noticed her hairclip had the Yin and Yang symbol on it.

So many questions. But then again, that’s the fun of this. I can’t tell if this is a uniform, lifestyle or costume for her. It was definitely a cultivated look. The time and effort she put in is admirable. I hope she dresses with this kind of swagger for the rest of her life.

I read, therefore I am … part two

2009-01-29T20:53:00.003-05:00

Woman 1/29/09

Having finally gotten the chance to watch Slumdog Millionaire recently, this woman struck me as having a great resemblance to Freida Pinto, the lovely actress who played the female lead in the movie. Perhaps resemblance is a misnomer. She looked like she could have been the older (albeit still youthful) sister to Ms. Pinto.

The face is familiar to many by now. Her hair was just as long, dark and wavy – reinforcing the perception that she shared DNA with the actress.

It was actually her shoes that caught my attention. A friend had pointed out to me her own “Uggs-not-Uggs”, and this woman had on shoes that could be described as such. It had similar tan color, approximate height, and light fur running up the sides of the boots. It was not quite as rounded in the front, and missing the Uggs label on the heel. As always tucked into the boots were a pair of jeans – these were your basic blue denim, though not skin-hugging skinny.

On her head was this mesh back Adidas baseball hat – perhaps it could be described as ‘trucker-not-trucker”. It was a very faded blue with the added patina of yellow. Like it was a tooth that just hadn’t been brushed. But the hat wasn’t frayed or showed signs of wear – just a peculiar color of supposed neglect.

Her winter coat was another double-take. At first glance, it was a simple black and white double-breasted wool number with black hood trimmed in black fur. The pattern of the weave looked like it was a modern herringbone weave of some sort. A closer look revealed that it was a plaid pattern of some sort, or at least a geometric pattern that from afar looked like a herringbone weave. Herringbone-not-herringbone.

For extra warmth, there was a thick chunky turtleneck sweater. Black, with the sleeves sticking out from underneath the sleeves of the winter coat.

Early in her ride, she pulled out a yellow magazine-sized deck that turned out to the Spring course catalog for The New School. Right there, the rush to judge pegged her as a young, hip, college student. Cool, seemingly label-less clothing, everything that was trendy but just a little less so – breaking her from the standard.

Just then, the catalog was put away, and she pulled her Blackberry from her bag. It was a large handbag- the size of a tote. There were this large pocket on the front panel, and each end of the bag had large pockets as well that utilized drawstring clasps. It was pale pink, and the sheen suggested nylon not leather. It looked quite interesting, and if assuming she was your typical NYC college girl; that bag could have been an Urban Outfitters or Anthropologie offering. As she put her Blackberry back into the handbag, the zipper pull of the main compartment flashed the brand; Stella McCartney.

The book she proceeded to flip through from end to end only added to my obvious premature and misguided judgment. It was credited to the Deen Bros. Titled Y’all Come Eat. She was flipping through this cookbook, written by the sons of Southern cooking maven, Paula Deen. This would have been the last thing one could expect her to read.

Looks like Freida Pinto. Dresses like she shops at Urban Outfitters. Carries a $1500 handbag. Interested in Southern cooking. Somewhere out there is a man or woman that worships the ground she walks on. May they find each other soon.

I read, therefore I am…

2009-01-28T10:07:00.001-05:00

Woman 1/22/09

Forget the fashion for a second. Another window into the personality of a subway rider is the material they are reading. Pair that with their outfit and you have a very good idea of who they are, or are trying to be.

She was reading My Custom Van by Michael Ian Black. It’s a comedy book, and written by a man who while a cast member of The State, was never on The Kids in the Hall. I admit I’ve made that mistake.

What kind of a woman reads that book? The kind that carries a tote bag that had cartoon illustrations of whimsical food items. There were muffins, pink glazed donuts, broccoli, lemons, and coffee mugs. The best ones were actually hearts with the letters BFF or bfo in the middle, like those candy Valentine’s hearts grade schoolers give each other. The canvas tote had red accents and straps with silver grommets fastening them to the bag. Curiously, the lining was exactly the same print. Reversible tote perhaps?

On her head was a big red knit hat. Worn almost like a beret – off her forehead. That hat matched the red hoodie she had on. Her winter coat was black wool with small white dot pattern. And her gloves were black cotton. The scarf was a plain white ribbed wool number. Her age really started to show with her grey faded skinny jeans and her black worn Chuck Taylors. I couldn’t figure out why she only had on ankle socks on such a cold day though.

Her shoulder length hair was dark brown. No bangs. At first glance, her face looked clean. But a second look revealed very subtle eye shadow – her own light version of the smoky eyes look perhaps? She pulled out a tube of Burt’s Bees lip balm and did a light application in the middle of her ride.

It struck me that if she was reading a different book, or none at all, she would have given off a Parisian or sophisticated French girl kind of vibe. Heck, she could have been reading Twilight, or even Harry Potter. Why did it have to be Michael Ian Black?

Or maybe that was exactly the glance into her personality we needed?

Fiddler on the Subway

2009-01-24T14:38:00.000-05:00

Man 1/19/09

There are just times when you see someone on the train, and you try to piece together the reality of that person’s life. As a good friend of mine previously declared, “I’d like to live his life for just one day”.

He had a walker. Well, apparently it’s official name is Rollator – his was made by Drive. This was a midnight blue frame with black handles and wheels. The crossbar in the middle acted as back support, positioned just above the black vinyl seat that was also a cover to a cloth rectangular storage box. The loop-shaped brake handles locked all four wheels when pushed down.

In violation of the Prime Directive, I actually helped the old man by holding the subway door and pulling the walker into the train. He moved painfully slow even with the Rollator. And it couldn’t have been easy for him to get in and out of the stations, given his difficulty with the train.

The old-timer was probably almost 6 feet tall when not hunched over the walker. With white hair and well-developed beard that was more Fiddler on the Roof than Santa Claus. A prominent nose, spot-speckled face and bags under the eyes. His tweed cap kept most of his hair in place, but he had so much that the hair seemed to be sprouting from every which skin cell. Tevye, very Tevye.

The camel hair winter coat was the typical three button single-breasted number. But not much protection given that he only had a faded white shirt underneath. It was snowing that night, and his shirt was wet, maybe from the snow, so the fabric clung to his pink flesh. Given his more than 250 pounds of weight, that coat might have been warmth enough. Brown corduroys and maroon pleather orthopedic shoes completed the look.

There was this lanyard around his neck. It held two keys, a cheap plastic key ring ID tag and curiously a spiral green rubber wristlet meant for keychains. Basically, a keychain attached to a lanyard with two keys. And in his left shirt pocket, you could just make out the outline of a small cellphone.

Sometime into the ride, he asked a young girl sitting diagonally across the train from him if her handheld was a cellphone or a game? He didn’t recognize the Blackberry.

I spent the rest of the ride wondering if he was alone and why he would be out at this time of night on the subway, given his limited mobility. It was sad that he should be here alone.

Irrelevant Observation

2009-01-21T12:50:00.002-05:00

Some of my pet peeves in watching subway riders:

Wearing two hoodies at one time – does that make you doubly cool? Surely your closet has another piece of warm clothing.

Putting on your make-up during the morning rush hour – couldn’t you be beautiful before you left home?

Women wearing shorts in winter – that goes for men too. We are not in Japan!

Tattoos on your head – well, its either fear, respect or I’m having that dream where I am sitting in a chair at Last Rites…

Loafers in winter – how do you walk in the snow wearing those things?

Fur coat, fur hat, just lots of fur – you should pawn that freaking fur, and take a cab or buy a car because your regal self is clearly above mass transit.

Leaving your paper for the next rider – unless it’s the NYT or WSJ, take the paper and put it in the trash. Those papers you leave cost 25 cents or are free. Besides the MTA recycles all trash, so no environmental guilt there.

Old Chinese folks wearing NorthFace winter jackets – yes they may be fake, but I’m putting my NorthFace stuff away. And selling my stock in VF Corp.

Panhandlers who never change their tune – There is a small man with a guitar and speaker in his backpack. “Baby Can I Hold You Tonight”, “Ain’t No Sunshine”. Learn a new freaking tune!!! Ten years and two songs.

Anyone who smells bad – please. Shower, deodorant , cologne and clean clothes. Step 3 is optional. If you know how to ride the subway, you know how to follow this easy 4 Step program! Yes, the rules apply to panhandlers too.

Wearing your sunglasses in the train – I’ve tried that. And I’m not cool.

Winter in Hipster

2009-01-19T10:26:00.002-05:00

Man 1/14/09

What’s so great about enduring American brands like Woolrich, Filson, and Carhartt is that some of their stuff is just iconic. One look and you know where that item came from. And with that, you know what the wearer is trying to say.

So, say you happen upon a 5’10” slightly built man in elf-green skinny jeans wearing what is obviously a Woolrich Stag Jacket; in that distinctive red and black Woolrich plaid, which also incidentally doubles as their logo. What is that guy trying to say?

Maybe he is just trying too hard. Red and Black plaid Woolrich wool jacket and elf-green skinny jeans- you just can’t make this stuff up.

On his feet were Nike Dunks. The SB lockup on the logo stood for Skateboard. These white Nike Dunks with purple laces, and purple trim. He wasn’t carrying a skateboard but rather a Timbuk2 messenger bag – his bag had the trademark tri-panel front done in green, yellow and red.

He also had on a scarf which looked like it was cloth just cut or torn from a bolt of fabric. The edges were clearly frayed and unfinished, and the fabric itself was too thin to be an actual scarf. Plus, it looked like he had about 3 layers of that wrapped around his neck. It might have been a small Prince of Wales check. And for extra warmth, he was also wearing a light green fleece with a white zipper.

On his head was a wool knit hunting cap, pulled low, covering most of his head. But one could still make out the black shaggy hair peeking out. His face was a Vincent Gallo redux; gaunt, sunken-in, and unkempt facial hair that’s not quite full and just a week past wispy. Actually, he only had the mustache and sporadic facial hair. Again, very Vincent Gallo.

I often wonder why people don’t dress true to themselves. Be authentic and the style will take care of itself. Then I realized my mistake. He was true to himself. He was a poseur. And with that, I felt very sorry for the girl he was making out with at the platform.

And in case you were wondering. She was dressed like she had an actual job in a real work environment. Quite the opposite of him.

ENIGMA

2009-01-16T10:41:00.001-05:00

Woman 1/14/09

As I learned from Batman, an enigma is “something that is not what it seems”. And this woman was definitely that, if you actually took the time to look carefully.

She was tall; well taller at 5’11” than me anyway. The height was compounded by the hair. It was a massive coil of dreadlocks. Not fat Rastafarian locks, but smaller though by no means less impressive dreads. And the colors. Her hair was grey and she had decorated her locks with additional strands made out of pink, blue or turquoise string. And her long locks were held by elastic maroon and green hairbands. Just the hair alone made her worth mentioning.

Based on the hair alone, your stereotypes would now start applying themselves to her liberally. But as they say in the movies, “this is where it gets interesting”.

The first inking was the Incase backpack. Black, non-descript and supremely square and functional. Then there were the boots. Not Doc Martens or army boots. They were black, and it looked like synthetic material. Very sleek and futuristic looking flats, with three large Velcro straps, no laces, and reaching to her mid-calf. The top of them was a lycra sleeve that hugged her calves. There was a subtle mark on the outside of the boot, but I couldn’t make out the brand. It wasn’t Chanel, but it certainly looked like Karl Lagerfeld could have designed it for them. I’d say those were boots that belonged on a fashionista.

The rest of her? A Northface winter jacket – actually the Nebula in black. Northface's bomber style winter jacket that has a hood trimmed in faux fur. It was the ribbed cuffs and hem that made the confirmation easy. And tucked into those boots were a pair of khaki colored utility pants. From my distance, I’d guess that the red tag label off the side thigh pocket was for Roxy or similar sport lifestyle brand.

On her ears were a pair of the Band & Olufsen earphones. Same pair I have. Still the most expensive pair of earphones I own.

And by the way, she had no piercings, earrings, or visible tattoos. Her face was clean and free of makeup.

So, you tell me. Is she the free spirit that her hair suggests? Or the label-loving fashionable woman that has about $1000 worth of clothes and accessories on her?

Point-of-View

2009-01-15T11:18:00.002-05:00

Man 1/14/09

What’s really rare in sartorial style is the person who dresses with a point-of-view. No, not those who dress as they want the world to see them, but those who dress as how they see the world. For most folks, there is no difference since they dress for work, comfort or indifference – my hillbilly friends mostly fall into those categories. That’s not to say they don’t want to look good. It’s just that there is no point-of-view to their sense of style.

This guy dressed like he saw the world through a very different lens. At first glance, the ordinary commuter would probably proclaim him a fashionista, but he was really more than that.

That gigantic fur winter hat which apparently is commonly known as a Russian Trooper hat. The Elmer Fudd version is slightly smaller and less verbose. Remember this guy has a point-of-view after all. And the hat was so large, it obscured most of his face from view.

He had on black corduroys cut like skinny jeans, which really made his black leather shoes stand out. These were pointed-toe black lace-ups but the leather was perforated – square holes. Making it look like he was wearing a Henley leather shoe. Very Euro.

It was maybe 20 degrees yesterday but like George Constanza, that hat must have been warm. He had on this biker’s leather jacket, though upon closer inspection you knew it wasn’t your typical Schott biker number. It was a designer number – shrunken fit, zips in the right places but small useless pockets that suggested form over function. And the leather was a natural supple versus the stiff leather that real bike jackets have when they look that new.

Underneath, he had on a black hoodie, and since both jacket and hoodie were unzipped, you could make out the black skinny tie over the black and white striped shirt with contrast collar that he was wearing. His other forms of winter protection – a muted multi-color knit scarf that hung lazily around his neck, and charcoal grey fingerless wool gloves.

Other than the hat, I’d say the other reason that made him stand apart from typical fashionistas was his bag. It was this medium sized old brown leather number that reminded one of the long gone Pan-Am days when a travel bag was essential. The small skinny shoulder strap and that dark mustard color leather. Best of all, it wasn’t a Puma or Le Coq Sportif retro bag. It was the real deal.

The man dressed like he had a point-of-view.

Happy Birthday

2009-01-14T08:23:00.000-05:00

Woman 1/13/09

She was seated with her back against the subway map; her eyes closed and a pair of cheap black headphones over her ears. Her short black hair was parted to the right, starting just slightly left of center. Really chic cut, and probably long enough to cover her eyes and ears if she really wanted.

It was this colorful paper bag that caught my eye. It was one of those glossy paper shopping bags – medium sized. It was this multi-color number that had just as many stripes as it did polka dots. The words Happy Birthday were printed sideways- vertically up the height of the bag with the stripes as a background panel. And there was this pinwheel in the middle of the bag, sitting on top of all those polka dots. It just had the word Happy, printed in a circular pattern like the rings of a ripple effect.

I was wondering what made someone carry such a conspicuous bag when I caught a glimpse of a small tag on the handle. In what may have been her own handwriting were the words, “To Jackson. Happy Birthday. ” So, the bag was the wrapping to a gift.

That gift itself remained hidden from view. There was a small clear plastic tab sticking out above what was a black box. Not enough to tell. Was the gift for an adult or a child? Hard to tell with that bag.

The rest of her was pretty basic. A cream winter wool coat – possibly J. Crew or Banana Republic. A nice thin gold colored scarf around her neck. Blue pinstriped work pants over a pair of black Ugg boots. Her handbag was from Louis Vuitton; in that black and brown checkerboard print done in their usual pleather.

She left the train at a major residential stop in Brooklyn. There are no other trains there to connect to, and given the way she was dressed, it came as a surprise when she exited. I wonder where she worked. After all, pin striped pants over black Uggs was a unique combination.

Irrelevant Observation

2009-01-13T20:46:00.000-05:00

Winter Trend 1/13/09

Not too long ago, I spent a week in Tokyo during the first week of the calendar year. Unbeknownst to me then, that very week is when the Japanese do two things: going to temple and shopping. The temple bit was interesting because they were not following a Lunar or other any religious calendar. The shopping bit was actually downright scary because nothing was technically open except for retail stores and the entire population of Japan took their shopping time seriously. Imagine the entire population of your city crowding into all the retail stores at the same time, and you start to get the idea. Now multiply that by ten, from the folks visiting who want to shop too. That’s Tokyo during that week.

So, what does this have to do with anything? Well, now that we have established that I probably viewed a larger portion of the Japanese population in that week than normal, I can go ahead and make the generalizations based on that limited exposure.

I never noticed fashion trends on that scale before and in Tokyo, it quickly became obvious that Japanese women in winter like their boots. Short, tall, flat, high heels, leather or otherwise. Japanese women love their boots in winter. And to fully show off their boots, they take to wearing short skirts or winter shorts. Mind you, the skirts and shorts are usually wool, and designed for warmth, but still not what comes to mind when one thinks of winter wear. Every other woman in Tokyo was wearing boots. Old, young, chic, plain, fashionistas, mountain witches, grandmothers or granddaughters.

In NYC, this winter has revealed another similar ubiquitous trend. Uggs. Yes, Ugg winter boots. Classic tan, new black, or edgy fabric ones. Worn with jeans or tights tucked into them. Sported by White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, locals, tourists or otherwise. The stylish, the plain, the ugly, tall, thin, short, fat, the young, the youthful, the old, and old-yet-young-at-heart. Uggs are everywhere, and they cannot be stopped. One brand. One shoe. Many variations and admirers.

Next time you are on the subway or just roaming the streets of NYC. Take a look around you and keep count of how many Uggs you see on the feet of women. As am I writing this now in Starbucks, there is at least one woman wearing them.

Walk the stores, and you’ll see them everywhere as well. Heck, Wal-Mart and Target are even selling Ugg knock-offs, and I guarantee you there are thousands of those that have been sold as well. This is not an urban phenomenon. It really is everywhere.

Guess we’re not immune from these kind of sweeping trends either.

Look-a-Like

2009-01-12T19:31:00.002-05:00

Woman 1/12/09

She looked like a young Carol Kane. The Carol Kane of Annie Hall days, still with youth and naiveté. I wonder if she knew? She had the same Russo-euro aristocratic features. This angelic porcelain white face with almond eyes and a small delicate nose. My guess is that she was in her late teens or very early twenties.

Her hair was definitely Carol Kane. All light brown curls – this gigantic mop on a small figure. Her’s was pulled up into a bun today, but there were still curls and plenty of fizzy strays struggling to get free.

What really cemented the Carol Kane association in my mind was her sense of style. Or should I say her dress sense. It was below 30 degrees today, and the woman is wearing a short above-the-knee skirt. Granted it was a cotton knit skirt, but then again, it was also Astro Turf green. She was wearing tights to ward off the cold. White tights, and these thermal socks pulled just to the bottom of her calves. And Asics running shoes. Her main defense against the cold was her winter coat. This was either used – Goodwill not vintage, or stolen from some Grandmother’s closet. It was a pea coat style winter coat, that was a faded light plum (almost sandy); double breasted with a fur collar. It was also about two sizes too big for her, which made it hang like a sack on her shoulders. Coupled with her white tights and small head, it could have swallowed her whole.

You could see the deep blue knit sweater peeping from her coat sleeves, and it nearly matched the big blue knit scarf wrapped around her neck. Clearly, she had a thing for knits – or did she really just raid some old woman’s closet? At least the Asics shoes were her very own.

There was very little else in terms of dress about her. No finishing accessories, maybe some light eye shadow and lip gloss.

She brought out her book for the trip. It was An Old Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott. Her hands were so small with fairly short well-kept nails, though not obviously manicured.

She had a small tote with her. A blue canvas accented with black straps and a black bottom panel. There was this Obama button that I had never seen before; just the word Obama in caps, reversed white on a black background. The tote itself read: Everyman’s Library Celebrates 100 Years.

The time came for her to exit the train. She put on her tiny black leather gloves and slowly made her way off the train and towards the exit on the platform. She was walking with a slight limp, favoring her right side.

Blue Collar

2009-01-08T02:27:00.000-05:00

Men 12/29

You know you are a blue collar worker in the NYC subway when…

You and Your Buddy:
- Have to sit across from each other; never side-by-side, in fact, you best not be on the same side of the car unless you can help it.
- Talk loudly making sure everyone hears your conversation.
- Don’t make eye contact with your buddy unless you are talking to him directly, and even then, not really.
- Have to spread your legs as wide open as possible so as to let your manhood have its own zip code worth of space.

Your Attire is up to Code:
- Timberlands – tan, lace-up work boots; caked with dust or mud.
- Hooded sweatshirt. One is mandatory, two if it’s cold outside. No bold prints or patterns though.
- A nylon bomber is permitted if the weather is below freezing, but only if paired with the hooded sweatshirt.
- In place of the bomber, any Carhartt jacket will do.
- Jeans. Dirty, lightly faded and preferably loose fit, though regular is preferred.
- Baseball cap or plain beanie optional.
- Facial hair in some form; goatee, five O’clock shadow or mustache.
- A flannel shirt. Or, for the one who are not managerial material, a long sleeve Henley.

Your Conversation consists of:
- Your wife and how she nags at you
- Another buddy’s new truck
- Beer
- Naps
- The Jets or the Giants
- The Yankees or the Mets
- No mention of basketball whatsoever, because basketball is not blue-collar enough for you.

It’s cliché, but from what I’ve seen, this is describes these guys to a tee.

Pink Baroness

2009-01-04T11:28:00.001-05:00

Woman 12/23/08

Well, she had on this winter hat. First, the style: rather like a World War 1 aviator helmet. The Pink Baroness but more like a cross between a real flying ace and Hello Kitty.

The hat was a white wool crocheted hat that covered her head exactly like that aviator helmet would. You could only see her face. No hair, no chin. The white wool hat was rimmed in pink and there were a few pink wool tuffs on the hat. Like random pimples on a white bald head. And there were these two pink flower petal shaped cut-outs attached near the front, though again, not in any sort of discernable pattern. It looked self made; in fact, I hope it was.

The pink rim of the hat really made a contrasting frame to her porcelain white face. She had brown eyes and slight freckles. Her hair was hidden under the hat, and the chin and neck were also hidden from view.

Of course, one would never expect someone wearing this hat to only feature this whimsical piece in their outfit. She also had these eye-catching Wellingtons on. They were accented in pink. The top was had a pink rim, and the bottom of the shoe had a band of pink going around. The shoes were dark navy blue with small white polka dots.

The thing is, her look really worked for her. The basic blue jeans were slightly faded and tucked into those Wellingtons. She had a great winter coat that was a dark navy blue wool. It almost had a poncho-like fit, and the fur collar was folded over creating this wide lapel. There were only 3 large buttons on the front, and no other pockets, features or accents. To my un-trained eye, I’d say it was either vintage or Marc Jacobs.

Curiously, she wasn’t carrying a handbag. It was a messenger bag, again, dark navy blue. It was made of cloth, with some gold hardware and lots of zippers and compartments on the front. But quite a feminine looking messenger bag. Reminded me of the bags produced by Porter.

She was reading Half Moon Street by Anne Perry. Does that tell you anything?

Androgynous Mystery

2008-12-30T12:50:00.002-05:00

Woman 12/29/08

I love a good mystery. The twists, the turns, the investigations, the luck, and most satisfying of all, the answer. So, imagine my delight at having not one but two mysteries wrapped into one subject. I’ve searched online, and still no answers, so this is going to be fun for a little while. Though if I never get the answer it will ultimately be very frustrating.

It was the bag that caught my attention. From my vantage point, it was a large cardinal red canvas duffel with “Stanford Rugby” printed on the end panel. White accents, and a white panel across the length of the bag, with a name written in large black basic type.

The owner was wearing a snowboard jacket that was white with a cool grid print that reminded me of a city map. I couldn’t make out any brand markings on the jacket. It had light Carolina blue zippers and hoodie drawstrings. You could make out the grey lining since the jacket was open. There was a pocket on the left bicep and hand pockets lower down. Underneath was an unzipped black fleece and a red tee that I think read “Stanford Alumni”. I’m sure of the “Stanford” but the “Alumni” was partially obscured so I could be wrong.

Here’s the first mystery. The initial assumption was that this person was a guy. After all, large rugby bag with name typically points in that stereotypical direction. But, once I moved seats for a closer look ; shaggy hair like Ellen DeGeneres streaked platinum blonde covering forehead and ears, delicate angular face with slight acne on chin and around mouth, though no facial hair whatsoever. Add the round metal stud protruding out from under the bottom lip and the black eyeliner completed the face. The hands were small, clean and slim with manicured nails. Basically, all signs pointed to a woman. A young one.

She got up to leave and her beltless dark blue skinny jeans revealed a pair of dark green boxer shorts underneath. Her shoes were basic dark blue New Balances, though I cannot be sure. So, for a spilt second, the gender was really in question. Could it just be a wispy slight teenage boy? Or a young woman in college who is wearing a men’s snowboarding jacket, likes boxer shorts, and currently into her androgynous phase?

The second mystery just adds to this delicious stew. The name on the bag was “Jesse Gardner”. Looking up the Stanford Women’s Rugby website revealed no such person on the current or recent alumni roster. No name, nor a matching photo. The Men’s website is undergoing upgrading, but no such person can be found on the existing website. And a Google search has turned up nothing.

If she is not the team, is that bag her boyfriend’s or brother’s? Or a hand-me-down from another family member? It looked fairly new, so it’s not a second generation heirloom.

Two more little clues: a medium plastic Kinokuniya shopping bag, and a light olive-green Manhattan Portage messenger bag.

So, two mysteries. One more so than the other. But certainly both require answers.

Reading Material

2008-12-29T15:01:00.002-05:00

12/28/08

A quick glimpse at what NYC straphangers are reading on the subway.
(All readers are single unless otherwise noted in paranthesis)

Dreams of my Father – Barack Obama

Wall Street Journal (2)

Amazon Kindle Reader (2)

Human Factor – (author unknown)

New York Post (2)

Sing Tao Daily

iPhone

InStyle Magazine

Eclipse – Stephanie Meyer

Nintendo DS

H&M Magazine

The Legendary Joe Meek: The Telstar Man – John Repsch

New York Daily News (2)

El Diario

Novena de Prosperidad – (author unknown)

Sublime meets ridiculous in holiday mailbag by Bill Simmons - ESPN.com printout

Stylish in Winter

2008-12-23T16:57:00.002-05:00

Woman 12/23/08

It’s hard to look fashionable in the winter. Like today, when the temperature is barely north of 20 degrees, and the wind cuts like a thousand razor blades. But some folks do pull it off, and you really have to appreciate the effort to stay warm yet stylish.

I saw her waiting on the platform, and her look immediately caught my eye. She looked like she was straight out of a J. Crew or Ralph Lauren ad. I wished I worked for either of those places because I would have hired her on the spot for a campaign.

She had on a pair of these beautiful tall riding boots right up to her knees. Slight quarter inch heel. Brown leather with simple square brass buckles at the feet, and straps featuring 3 matching brass grommets – hers were latched on the 1st hole. It was a warm, subtle, worn leather, though not beaten or weathered. The zipper was on the side, extending all the way to the top. From behind, there was a U-shaped slit cutout at the top of the boot; an interesting design touch I thought.

When she sat down, the design of the boot revealed its ingenuity- they were there to allow her knees to bend 90 degrees, so the leather in front would actually be covering her knees. Sort of like armor. Brilliant. Such well engineered riding boots. Form and function.

Her formfitting green corduroys were tucked into the boots. They were a moss-green, slight hue of yellow. Most of it obscured by the parka-length winter coat. It was dark chocolate brown, wool, and had two exposed large pockets in the lower front. What made it stylish were these straps running down the front. They were the same color and material as the coat, but placed like suspenders. And around the waist, they were effectively the loops of her 3 inch belt (again, same color and material). Subtle, but quite interesting. From behind, you’d see one panel running to the waist, from the front two – suspenders as a design reference.

The high collar of the coat had another buckle and strap. Hers was open, with the tan cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck. And extending from the back of the scarf, there was a white hoodie – made of a thin cotton-like material.

The look was topped off with a tweed newsboy cap. Her short curly hair peeking out. Her face without makeup except for lipgloss. Very youthful and fresh.

There were 3 disappointments however. Her hobo style handbag was brown pebblegrain leather, with braided handle and no brand markings. Matching, but boring. She had on these neon pink fleece gloves that were somewhat out of character. And by her side was this yellow Forever 21 plastic shopping bag. But maybe I was expecting too much.

Old Memory

2008-12-19T13:33:00.001-05:00

Today is the first real heavy snowfall of the season, and for some reason it reminds me of the first real snowfall I remember experiencing in person.

I had seen snow before, albeit in a limited fashion; when we had a short family USA vacation that had detours to the Midwest, and a stopover in snow-covered Tokyo. So, while the concept of snow was not foreign to me, a real snowfall was something I had yet to experience. After all, we did grow up in a tropical country prior to immigrating.

It had actually started snowing that day sometime in the early afternoon, while we were still in class. I was sitting in Mr. Sullivan’s chemistry class, which had these large bay windows looking out the front garden of the school. The flakes were just falling slowly, and everyone got excited because it was the first snowfall of the year, and of course they were hoping that enough snow meant school cancellations for tomorrow.

It didn’t really make too much of an initial impression on me because it had just started to snow. The ground was flecked white, but nothing really impressive. Why was this dusting so exciting? It looked to me that someone had just dumped flour on the ground and that was it. It was still snowing when we made our way home. And true to my usual after-school routine of afternoon television and light snacking, I didn’t really pay all that much attention to the continued snowfall. It hadn’t snowed any harder by my estimation.

After dinner, my brother and I were wondering about the snow, so we pulled back the curtains on the sliding French doors leading to the backyard deck to take a peek. The second the backyard floodlights came on, it was the most amazing sight to two snow rookies. Everything was covered by about four or five inches of snow! The deck, the backyard, and the fence, even the neighbors’ yard – as far as we could see. And it was snowing harder than before; to this rookie, it seemed like a blizzard.

My brother and I quickly put on our winter clothing, which really was a heavy parka, jeans and sneakers with thick socks, and proceeded outside. We were so excited we even brought with us a camera to document everything. I was going to send everyone back home a picture of us playing in a snowstorm. We ran around the backyard, played catch with this rubber football, and tried to taste as many snowflakes as we could. It was my first major snowfall and I was going to savor every single moment.

We used the entire roll of film. I still have the pictures. You can’t see the flakes really well. And the flash washes out the background. But the expressions are unmistakable.

Lefty

2008-12-15T20:34:00.001-05:00

Man 12/11

I keep reading that once a man establishes his style, it never leaves him. And I’ve often wondered if I’ll be that way, though I’m still young enough to have changed my dress style every few years. Check back with me in a few more years.

He was in his 60’s maybe even his 70’s. He had on this camel hair winter overcoat, which had this spread fur collar and large lapels. The fur was brown and it looked like he had this lion’s mane stretching from his shoulders down to his chest. And he also had a fedora on his head. A navy blue with the brim turned out. Honestly, he reminded me of Al Pacino’s character in the movie, Donnie Brasco. Look up the movie poster, age Pacino another 25 years, and that’s your guy. Similar hat, similar winter coat.

The rest was pretty indicative of his style as well. Grey polyester slacks, yes, real polyester. There was a blue blazer underneath that winter coat, paired with a faded white shirt. No tie, no jewelry. But, one more detail that could only be him – black rubber rain shoe covers fitting snuggly over his black wingtips. The laces were just peeking over the covers, and the wingtip pattern was discernable at the very top of those covers.

Underneath the fedora was a head with close cropped white hair. His big nose complimented his big ears. What was interesting were his thin lips. Well, they were in a half-sneer, half pursed clench for the entire ride. Showing his straight yellow teeth, and giving one a sense that he was searching for something intensely. His square glasses probably added to his look. These rounded-edge square bifocals of a light brown color.

This man was reading the New York Times – main section, all with a facial expression that made it seem his life depended on it. He wasn’t marking anything or doing the crossword, just reading briskly, yet that expression clearly indicated something else. He raised his eyebrows every so often, and the serious reading lines on the forehead. It was like watching a ventriloquist reading the paper. No sound comes out of his mouth, but the lips are open the entire time in a forced smile – or in this case, a sneer.

There was this worn plastic shopping bag in between his legs. It was a New York City library bag that was orange on white, with the names and addresses of area libraries in reverse type. Perhaps he was a serious reader after all.

Notables

2008-12-08T15:44:00.002-05:00

The ones that got away.

Man - carrying a roll-up bag with the Wusthof logo, meaning he was armed with very, very sharp kitchen knives. He was in grimy sweats and also had an Army Surplus canvas backpack. But I think most people gravitated to his mop of curly red hair.

Petite girl - dressed ordinarily but had on a pair of ballet flats that were decorated with patchwork illustrations of lions. The right had a lioness and the right had a lion.

Man – with plaid red pants, black carcoat, and serious black eyeglass frames from Armani.

Woman – dragging the largest pink suitcase with abstract butterflies print. And her face was painted like she was a modern-day geisha.

Woman – in pink fishnet stockings. On her lap was a multi-colored polka dot vinyl tote bag. She was a very obvious bottle redhead.

Old Chinese man in a classic brown leather bomber and grey wool pants. Topped off with a crisp Yankees cap.

Woman –looks like the middle sister of Christina Hendricks and Sarah Polley. Wonderfully tussled just-got-out-of-bed long auburn hair.

Boy – carrying a black backpack that was a multi-color water gun print. Add his shaggy hair, and he’s a hipster in the making at 12 years old.

Motorized Wheelchair

2008-12-08T15:31:00.000-05:00

Man 12/5

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a motorized wheelchair in the NYC subway in a long time. Well, I’ve definitely never seen such a large man in a motorized wheelchair in NYC. He must have been somewhere north of 250 pounds, maybe even over 300. He resembled an older Frank Black (from The Pixies); just as bald and rotund, but with a lot more weight. Clean shaven, no earrings, no tattoos, no distinct markings.

No one bothered him at all, nor did anyone really stare too much. Funny, but it’s safe to say that NYC is one of the few places where a man like him might feel invisible.

The chair itself was pretty large. This grey office-chair sized vinyl high-back, that had a pocket on the back and a grey headrest. The armrests were black, as was the seat belt that was wrapped around our guy. And the chair was attached to the motorized wheels with only on short poles. Imagine all that weight balanced on 4 small slender round metal bars. The chassis of the motor was black, though the cover on the battery pack was a metallic midnight blue. And there were two round red lights on the battery itself, along with a sticker indicating the make and model - “Jazzy 614 HD”. I looked it up and the chair costs $3699. Ouch!

There were 2 Lands End canvas tote bags hanging from the headrest behind the back of the chair. Both white but one with Carolina blue and the other with navy blue accents. And there was also this simple black leather messenger that looked small on his lap, with the strap over his right shoulder.

He was wearing a navy blue winter ski parka, which curiously had no branding. There were 2 pockets across the chest, 2 larger pockets across the waist, and a hood. The corduroy slacks were a faded grey, and his socks were ordinary white tube socks. On his feet were white New Balance sneakers, model 550. I’d guess that they were around size 12 or 13, which gives you a better idea of his physical size. One could also just make out the light blue flannel shirt he had on, peeking out from under his parka.

I was totally intrigued by the chair. Six wheels. Two small ones in front, two large ones in the middle, and two smaller ones in the rear. The smaller wheels were black, with black 5-spoke star rims, and were on a swivel. The larger wheels were grey with steel rims in the same style but not on a swivel, but covered by mudguards. A pair of bright yellow shock absorbers in the front stood out from all that black and blue .

The joystick controller was on the right armrest, near the front. And because his body was so large, you couldn’t see the left arm at all. It was hidden from general view by that parka. His feet rested on this large plastic plate attached to the frame of the wheelchair. And from time to time, he would actually move a foot off the plate, and then back on.

The man parked his wheelchair in front of a set of train doors. Leaving just enough room for a small sized person to squeeze between him and the seat partition to exit or enter. He was asleep for most of the ride, and given his level of comfort, I’d guess that he was a veteran straphanger.

Subtle Big Hair Girl

2008-12-04T20:21:00.001-05:00

Woman 12/4/08

One of my pet peeves riding the NYC subway is when someone treats the train like their home. They are either having a full meal, or doing something on their laptop, or leisurely lounging. Folks, if the MTA wanted to let you put your feet up and sit in comfort, they would have made the seats La-Z-Boys.

She was spread out over 3 seats. One for her ass. One for her Ugg clad feet, and one for her Puma handbag. That bag was brown corduroy with dark leather accents and brown handles. There was a Puma logo on the side of the bag and a metal logo dangling from one of the handles. It was like a miniature gym bag.

Her slim legs were fitted with faded black jeans, which were tucked into those tan Uggs. On her stretched out legs was this medium sized shopping bag from Something Else Footwear, and the bag was stuffed so full, you could clearly see a pair of light blue jeans peeking out from the open top.

The look was classic Staten Island / Jersey Shore princess. Long brown curly hair with blonde streaks, styled back so that there was a slight poof of hair on the top of her head. Think Joan Cusack in Working Girl or any John Hughes movie featuring girls with big hair. This was the more subtle version – if big hair can be subtle.

And she was tan. Well, her face was almost orange, but her hands were fairly pale. It could have been the amount of make-up used, though you could still make out her old acne scars on her forehead. She had the smoky eyes look, choosing to highlight her big eyes with an ash-blue eye shadow and lashes that reached for the stars. The rounded nose completed her face.

Her giant scarf almost covered most of her shoulders. It was a sea-green paisley pattern with shiny flecks throughout. She was wearing a black short cropped trench style coat that came with a slim black belt. And though the jacket was buttoned the entire time, you could see the sleeves of her chunky red sweater sticking out of her jacket cuffs.

It could have been the giant sparkly hoop earrings that completed the look. Or her nonchalant “I am better than the subway” look on her face.

Euro

2008-12-01T15:04:00.001-05:00

Man 11/29

It’s really been shoes or reading material that triggers my interest. This time, it was both. The book? Believe it or not, John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. I’ve never read it, nor seen the movie. Not even the James Dean version.

Now the shoes. These were dark brown leather boots. It was the texture of the leather that was interesting- wrinkled in a crumpled paper sort of way, which at first glance gave it a weathered look, but really was quite new. And while laces were visible, there was also a zipper on the inside half of the boots. Plus, there were these strategically placed rivets around the shoes. Four total on each boot. And finally, there was stitching that reminded me of wingtips. This man was wearing boots that looked like they were a cross between Euro-trash and wingtips.

The rest was more uneventful. Dark skinny jeans. No markings, labels or fancy stitching. Possibly A.P.C., H&M or Uniqlo. His jacket was a dark brown leather bomber with a black fur lining that also included the collar. Again deceptively basic. The leather was textured, and reminiscent of Bottega Veneta. This was not the exact Bottega weave, but similar with all the squares. No extras on the bomber, just two basic side zippered pockets on the outside, and a basic metal jacket zipper.

The green sweater was a basic crewneck with a green on dark green diamond pattern. And he was wearing this green scarf that was essentially a summer silk scarf. Striped pattern with yellow and brown stripes and same colored tassels. But still a paper-thin silk scarf.

The guy had no ring, no watch, no earrings. The only accessory was this black messenger bag. This time, really basic. Smooth black leather. Worn over his right shoulder, and sitting on his lap as he read his book.

Everything pointed to Euro. It was the yellow mechanical pencil that he held as he was reading the book that threw off the judgement. He never used it once during that long subway ride. Just held it as he kept on reading.

Hipster English Country Squire

2008-11-30T21:29:00.002-05:00

Man 11/29/08

I was with a friend, so it wasn’t really convenient for me to use my notepad. But my friend got to see first-hand the reason why I wanted to start this blog.

Based on my best recollection.

It was two of them. They came into the subway car together and sat perpendicular to each other. Both of them had their own reading material.

The best I could describe this man was hipster English country squire. That was his style. A black and white herringbone driving cap. A tan tweed blazer, under which was a chambray jacket, and a green wool sweater, and an untucked tattersall button-down shirt. Basic tan corduroy pants, and the piece-de-resistance: white socks with Adidas sneakers – also tan. Exactly as I named him. A hipster English Country Squire spotted in Brooklyn, riding the subway.

He was blond, and physically that was all I remember. His look just over-powered and overwhelmed him. But, hey, it a sight that even my friend will remember for a long time.

The best part? The seat next to the squire opened up and his friend moved over. And from the looks of it, they seemed to be a couple and not just friends. That was swiftly confirmed when the friend moved closer, and started reading from his book, How to Parent Your 4 Year Old Child. He was reading the book to the squire but it was almost like a very romantic bedtime story being acted out for the entire train to see. Perhaps it was the leaning into each other’s bodies, or the holding of the book precisely between both their laps.

The Reader? He was in an oversized winter wool jacket and skin-tight black pants, with a wool beanie.

Tan

2008-11-24T14:59:00.002-05:00

Man 11/5/08

He had this green shopping bag. Well, it was this green tyvek, medium-sized tote bag, with greenbag.com, across the front sides.

Plus, he was really tan. Not George Hamilton orange, but a deep Mediterranean olive tan that suggested a Greek heritage. Even his bald head was sporting this deep tan, though the dark color served to hide the few leftover follicles on the crown of his head. The hair on the sides was short, and a mix of brown and white; colors repeated for his eyebrows.

His ears were possibly the largest single feature on his head, with prominent sunspots. His face was fleshy and sat on a double chin, and when paired with his pudgy nose, he gave off the look of an old prizefighter.

Underneath his olive ¾ length raincoat was a dark three-button suit. With a closer look, it was actually a dark navy blue with very subtle tonal stripes. And you could just make out the blue striped shirt with the white contrast collar, accented by the red tie, which had a basic pattern of blue and orange squares.

His shoes were black. Very basic lace-up Oxfords, like the sort one would get at Wal-Mart. Quite out of sync with the rest of his outfit, which though not quite Saks, did not deserve that quality of shoe.

The watch was the only piece of jewelry visible on him. Worn on the left wrist, it was a classic rectangular white-face encased in gold, and finished with brown straps. His nails were really close cropped, though his hands and arms showed a lot of hair. Perhaps reflecting his possible Mediterranean heritage.

Like most subway riders, he was reading. The New York Post. In fact, he was reading each page quite intently and looking over every piece of information like an archaeologist examining fossils. He had glasses tethered around his neck, but since they were not in use for reading, perhaps they were sunglasses.

Slowly, it seemed that he was preparing himself to exit the train. He brought out his LG flip-phone and gave the screen a quick check. Then he pulled out a small paper bag from his green tote that you could tell was holding one of those tall cylinders typically used for food deliveries. Gave that another quick check. Soup perhaps?

Gypsy

2008-11-24T14:58:00.001-05:00

Woman 10/31/08

She had really sad eyes. Bulging bug-eyes that told of an experienced life. The eyes were highlighted with eyeliner and she had on red lipstick. No other signs of make-up were very evident. Her purple headscarf that housed skinny long hair braids out the back, but revealed a mix of brown dye and aged white roots in the front bangs. Interestingly, she projected warmth and friendliness.

It was really the clothing that made her interesting. She was dressed like an ethnic tribal woman. There was this short-sleeved full-length poncho. Black but covered with primary color geometric patterns that suggested a floral influence, with tassels on the bottom. The poncho was cotton.

Under that poncho? A cotton, long-sleeve black blouse with ethnic patterns on the sleeves. And that was layered over a black turtleneck. With a red scarf loosely wrapped around her neck. Continuing her look was this solid black cotton gypsy skirt, over black suede boots with a side zip. She really had a specific style, right down to the light purple nail polish.

The accessories provided her the finishing touch. A bare right wrist. A full left wrist with a watch that had a blue rectangular face and blue strap. 10 or so thin bangles, majority made of silver or stainless steel, one was resin with purple flecks on white, almost marble-like pattern, and one was multicolor. Pearl earrings accented with diamonds, or rhinestone that really sparkled.

With her backpack, she was taking up two seats. Well, it was really a knapsack. A black leather knapsack with a leather drawstring for it’s main compartment, and on it’s front pocket, a leather map of Africa. At first it seemed like a logo, but a harder second look showed the patch to be a cutout in the shape of the continent. And keeping with her look, the knapsack was quite worn and weathered.

She held her tortoiseshell sunglasses in one hand, and later replaced it with her cell phone from the knapsack. On her lap was this clear plastic yellow Ziploc folder. It was filled with forms of all colors and one could just make-out the logo of NYSCA on one of those forms.

This woman was soon having a conversation with a fellow passenger who’d originally been my first choice for observation, but she seemed to be drunk and sleeping it off. Well, turns out she had sleep apnea. And her birthday was 2/9/62, same sign as this woman.

The woman spoke with no accent, and when the sleep apnea woman exited the train, she pulled out a yellow colored pamphlet and started reading the black type. It was written in Spanish.

Crocs and Philip Roth

2008-11-24T14:57:00.000-05:00

Woman

I think it was the Crocs that caught my eye. They were white, with multi-color flower and starfish buttons on them. It was the first time I had seen an adult woman with Crocs that were so decorated. Then, it was the book. She was reading a Philip Roth book – The Plot Against America, and a good 1/3 of the way though the novel. Crocs and Philip Roth, a new combination for the subway riding public of New York City to ponder.

She was blonde. Sitting diagonally across from me, was this dark blonde, seemingly natural, though the lighter streaks gave me some pause. Wearing a plain pair of black-framed glasses, reading her book. Her hair was shoulder length, but tied back in a ponytail. You could just make out the mole under her left ear as she turned her head slightly. A very plain-Jane librarian face. No make-up, no real hairstyle, and basic glasses.

The clothing was another window into her individualistic tendencies. If the Crocs and book revealed a lot, what do you ask about the woman who has turquoise tights on underneath her dark gypsy skirt? A gray singlet sits layered below a dusty pink tank top. Not sure if she had a bra on.

The rest of her was in the accessories. Well, first, a long necklace with pebbles made from sliver and colored resin. Then, a smaller necklace that had a single diamond pendant. One ring on her left middle finger – looked like a flea market ornate antique. No wedding ring, but a simple gold bangle on her left wrist. Looking down to her right ankle, there was a string bracelet visible while she was sitting. No earrings.

She was carrying a leather handbag that again reminded me of another flea market find. It had this frayed shoulder strap, and oddly enough a small troll affixed on the end of the zipper. A nod to her Crocs perhaps?

Most interestingly, I wasn’t the only one watching her. There was a younger woman eyeing her as well. And she herself was watching the men exiting the car at just about every stop.

The Descriptionist

2008-11-24T14:55:00.003-05:00

I’d been toying with the idea of writing a blog for a while now, and couldn’t quite figure out what I would write about. There are enough shopping, fashion, food, parenting…etc…blogs in the universe at this point. I wasn’t going to do anything unless it was moderately original, and relatively interesting. Both of which I am assuredly not.

My inner thoughts - professional or personal, didn’t really seem all that interesting, and it also seemed to be a little bit much. I only have 2 cents worth, and I’d like to keep 2 cents to myself, or at least to those that would appreciate those 2 cents. I’m not looking to build a fan club of my opinion.

So, riding the subway one day, it suddenly hit me what I should write about. I would be a ghost writer. Literally. An invisible person who is able to observe and impart that observation in print. And it was the sight of this woman sitting across for me on the subway that gave me that Eureka! moment. I was going to sit across from her for at least 30 mins; surely I could come away with enough to write a credible blog entry.

And so, that started this blog. It’s starting with descriptions of people, but I’m sure it’ll gradually morph to other entities; living or otherwise.

Shout out to Scott Schuman, The Satorialist. When I grow up I want to be just like him. And my only two German friends with their own blogs.