You say recession, I say drug dealers and prostitutes will still fork over wads of hundreds for luxury brands. Call me all sorts of politically incorrect, but a stroll through the new Gucci store on Fifth Avenue placed James and me smack in front of, not merry post-holiday shoppers, but rough, uneducated, let's just say it - ghetto - ruffians dragging an aspirational brand through the mud. Scusi, but does Gucci mean Walmart in italiano? The crowds, the loud mothers asking smelly five year olds if they like the $500 sneakers they were trying on were just too much. Such a shame that so much money and effort went into creating a glorified Chuck-E-Cheese playpen.
So where can one go in New York for a taste of the good life, without the plebes and criminals? Where can someone celebrate the end of the year with supple leather, champagne, and the scent of Aqua di Parma candles? I'll tell you where: my home, where I come to relax and blog after a productive round of bargain hunting at my fave shops: Club Monaco, H&M and Zara (ok, Daffy's and Armani Exchange factor in this list as well but please don't tell anyone). The rest of the world can have upper Fifth Avenue, I'll keep the Flatiron district where the crowds are few, the air is cleaner and there are less Escalades to watch out for.
Photo: Boxing Polar Bears at Bergorf Goodman's men's shop.
2 comments:
...and the very people who thumb their noses at drug dealers and prostitutes who encroach upon their upscale space are also the people who buy their drugs and pay for them for sex.
Interesting...
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