On having weird hair in new york01 Apr 1995
I was in New York all last week, and there was one afternoon when I was resting in Bryant Park after wandering for most of the day. So I was sitting there, minding my own business, when this old scruffy looking guy wanders up and tells me I have really neat hair. This happened in New York a couple of times; it was not unusual for wierd ranters to wander by, screaming gibberish at the tops of thier voices:
“NEERERNNORD! FORFNNT BLATMOR FREEN ARLNOT! MRRF! STILLN — hey, cool hair.”
So I thanked the guy in the park and went back to my book, but the guy went on to explain that that my hair was a really good shade given my skin color, and that if I had more of an olive complexion, it would be a real problem, but the purplish red works really well, but obviously I know all this because I’m wearing black, and the black and the purple are classic Winter colors, so obviously I understand the proper Winter wardrobe all too well.
Only in New York can you have a derelict do your colors.
I wanna go back.Posted on 01 Apr 1995 • in essays •