One aspect of living in Manhattan that I had not anticipated: feeling like a schlub. The other day, when I was having lunch in the cafe at the Morgan Library & Museum, I was wearing my usual ensemble:
Meanwhile, the two men seated nearby looked like mannequins for Barneys. On another occasion, I was walking up 10th Avenue when I passed a dad and his daughter walking in the opposite direction. She wore a dress. He was wearing a pork pie hat; a plaid coat, buttoned up to his neck, that featured one set of colors on the left, a subtly different set on the right; and pants rolled up above some serious boots (lace up, black, mid-calf) that were probably last worn by some World War II field marshal.
Do you know the inimitable Bill Cunningham of The New York Times? (Richard Press’s documentary about him is so charming.) These are some of his photos. I’ve seen men dressed this way in just the short time we’ve been here:
Honestly, I would ordinarily never think of myself as a Jerry Gergich, the beleaguered character in the TV sitcom Parks & Recreation, but I’m beginning to wonder.