This is my friend Iftiaz. He's probably the only guy I know who can get me to leave my home in Prospect Heights at midnight to come to hang out at a kiddie bar in Williamsburg, by way of the G train.
That's what happened last night. Then he kept me waiting outside Union Pool while he showered. I was forced to watch the various confused children come in and out of that bar for over twenty minutes. One fashion observance - there was a guy, probably 23, dressed like a Victorian saloon proprietor. Suspenders, waxed mustache, goatee, shirt that was... um... Victorian. He kinda looked like Sweeney Todd. I guess that's what passes for hot stuff these days.
I always have this feeling that I am already too old to hang out at places like Union Pool at midnight. I feel a little less so at Union Hall. But now that the fashion barometer has moved toward the mid-nineteenth century, I feel I need to throw out my entire closet and start looking at "The Rt. Hon. Jos. Bumblebraith and Sons' - Fine Clothiers and Produce" or coax Auntie Hortense to get out her knitting needles.
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