Williamsburg Fashion: A Primer
I rarely go to Manhattan anymore. Now that I think of it, I rarely leave Greenpoint for that matter. But when I do leave the confines of the Garden Spot it is usually for one purpose: to buy clothes.
One of the perks of having discretionary income is being able to replace my tatty-ass and ill-fitting apparel with brand new rags. Duds that are intended to look distressed, not ones that have been rendered into such a state by repeated wear and tear. Although Dalaga and Alter have nice wares, the overall pickings in Greenpoint are pretty slim. At least to women who don’t want to look like 80’s Eurotrash hookers they are, anyway.
When I need a fashion fix I go to (where else?) Williamsburg. This is what I did yesterday and I found a couple stunning examples of Billyburg chic in the process.
I found this guy dining at North 6 yesterday afternoon. It takes a certain amount of chutzpah to wear a shirt like this. The fact that he saw fit to share his special gift with anyone who happened to be strolling down North 6th Street is downright hardcore. I like this guy. I was tempted to ask him where he got this shirt, as I think it would be the perfect thing to wear at my sister-in-law’s wedding this fall. Now onto the ladies…
One thing I have grown to utterly despise of late is people talking on their fucking cell phones. The invention of this device has transformed people (whose manners were already marginal) into self-absorbed assholes. Listening to a woman talk at length about her boring life while strutting around like she’s Miss Thing makes an otherwise quiet and relaxing walk pure unadulterated HELL.
Unless of course she is walking around with a price tag hanging out of her shirt— in which case it takes every iota of restraint I have to keep from pissing my pants while I laugh at her.
Thank you Williamsburg for giving me, a lowly gal who lives in Greenpoint, the gift of laughter. You seldom disappoint.
And that is why I love you.