LFG and I are back…momentarily…in Old Town before we execute our next sortie. First stop…Gotham. And trust me when I tell you that sortie-one was all about LFG. Oh, and her travel companion. It’s no longer sufficient to ask that I, the Daddy Rabbit…fun daddy that I am…be the sole travel partner on holiday. This was our first spring break endeavor involving one of LFG’s schoolmates. And it was a blast—rain and all.
A cloudy Gotham mist was predicted so we swathed and shod accordingly. Butcept LFG outgrew her rain slicker. That would be procurement one when we arrived in New York. I left Union Station already shod for the day. White moleskins from Cording’s and Bean bluchers.
The Waldorf Astoria…A suite… and a couch for daddy in the parlor and of course, the girls get the bedroom.
See that closed door? That be the bedroom. And daddy’s not invited. It’s a new day for daddy…and a cloudy one not only outside the walls of the Waldorf. Just kidding—kinda. I read Flashman while they giggled and did girly stuff.
I’m sorry that I’ve had to distort the lovely visage of LFG’s little friend but not everyone campaigns their kids mugs on blogs like me. Sorry about that Miss K.O’.
First stop…Dylan’s Candy Bar.
They even had a section for me. This is the Southern White Boy Department.
And speaking of Southern White Boys...I was particularly offended by this.
I told you that this trip to Gotham was not in any way about my agenda or where I might want to go. I found solace rather quickly though, in the form of M&Ms. Only one sartorial stop by me...and it was completely by accident and...with LFG's permission.
Back to the Waldorf for an early room service dinner. Belgian house shoes de rigueur. It was rainy so I left my new Suitable Wardrobe Willgians at home.
And yes. Shut up in advance. These Cordings trews are pulling a bit. I'm up about eight pounds. But I remain thinner than you.
Room Service...nine hundred dollars. Creating memories for/with my only child? Don't ask about the total tarrif. Keep in mind...I have a zillion travel points.
The fun quotient equaled the tarrif...this episode in terry.
Really...what could be better than a post prandial evening carriage ride? I wanted to go in the Snoop Dog lowrider illuminatamobile. I got voted down.
"Pay the man, daddy" Ok.
Then on the walk back to the Waldorf, we passed Jay Kos and learned about his moving sale. He's decamping from Park Avenue to SoHo where his eclecticism will be better appreciated. Kos has evolved his edgy tradness towards a bohemian genre that, even though is less my thing, remains style-rich. And he's giving stuff away post haste.
They are blowing the goods out the door and have little time for you to call them and ask what's left. But if you can stop by, chances are you'll find a stunning bargain. Kos does THE best odd trousers in moleskin, corduroy and linen...favoring the top-pocket design that I enjoy. Trousers...three to five hundred bucks...all of them now...one hundred clams a go. And they are going.
The next morning saw us heading over to Rockefeller Center for the Top of the Rock visit. Butcept LFG and K.O'. wanted to stop and scream at some chorus guys from Glee. I'm way out of the pop culture know.
Top of the Rock
And then down to SoHo where LFG asserted that even in the rain, we'd make good on our Paul Frank, Balthazar, Pylones and Evolution junket. And we did. That's the now slickered LFG buying something at Pylones. She carries her own bit of money and pays for things without me standing there with her. I don't like it. I don't like it. She's not growing up. She's not growing up. She's not growing up. Shut up.
Umbertos was looking a little worse for wear. I suppose you can only trade on the lore of Joey Gallo getting popped in your restaurant for so many decades.
ADG mob lore. I know it all.
Evolution remains for us, one the the coolest stores in SoHo.
LFG spent seven dollars on fossils. After I spent thirty on a slicker. Shut up.
Once again, just as I did on our first visit to Evolution, I physically blocked LFG from approaching this area of the bone department. Poor, poor Raccoons.
En route to Pearl River I spotted the J. Crew Men's store on Broadway. With LFG's permission, I walked in for a moment. Nothing, nothing short of an insulting joke. Really. This whole artisnal, vintage, reinterpreted scam is nothing more than a third world sweatshop, poor quality farce. One day, when I'm in the mood, I'll write about why I give Ralph Lauren a pass on his version of this strategy.
The only thing worth a second glance was this old Jack Londonesque, unrestored oil painting.
Pearl River...I got more use from my Flusser Mac this week than all the time I've owned it. Popped collar and the belt tied behind the jacket. You can spend money on the goods but if you have no sense of style, you won't know how to tweak it. When you posses limited charm like me, you learn how to evolve your style tweaking strategy.
Onward...planning our next little sortie for the week. With a mostly salt...and and little remaining pepper... beard.
ADG, II and LFG...Travelling.