This past weekend my friends at Fabric Renewal in Bloomingdale, NJ delivered my spring and summer apparel. Except after they left, I realized: NO PANTS! Or suits, or jackets...I guess they took my direction on the phone regarding seasonal clothing a bit too literally.So I called back and explained the dire situation: I need pants. In fact, I love them. They kindly came back yesterday morning, and on clothing racks displayed in the middle of E. 80th St. I went through everything, picking and choosing what I needed for this time of year, and sending the rest back with them to be stored for the season.
People were oggling the literal display at 8 a.m. in the middle of the street with sheer wonderment. I am now seriously upset that I didn't catch it on film because it was something to be seen. "Who is that? What the hell is she doing?" Too funny.
And in other [food and drink] news, I am appealing to my friend to take me here, or at least go with me (see photo)...
From the New York Times' "Urban Eye"
One Hot Dog, Heavy on the Secret Sauce
By MELENA RYZIK
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Three great tastes that taste great together: lowbrow food, highbrow cocktails, and secret bars. PDT is a surprisingly classy lounge tucked inside an East Village hot dog shop. You want in? Approach the phone booth, find the hidden camera and hope the guy who’s manning it likes your smile. Once inside, you can order a deep-fried, bacon-wrapped hot dog and a "precisely calibrated, classically inclined" drink, like a mean mint julep or pisco sour. The name stands for Please Don’t Tell. You won’t, right?
PDT, inside Crif Dogs, 113 St. Marks Place (Avenue A), East Village, (212) 614-2728.
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