Caught My Eye

Above, in the window on 6th Ave. near 32nd St., ties for the itinerant preacher -- just add fervid faith and soup stains.  Equally sacred at Penn Station on Christmas, below left, a large temporary electrical outlet disguised in ribbons and a synthetic snow hula skirt.


Above right, an unusual mannequin at Cheap Jacks on 5th Ave. at 31st St.  Just as interesting is the sign behind her that threatens to confiscate any photos taken in the store, and to hold the perpetrator liable for "theft of service."  By "service" they mean the headlock the security guard puts you in while the assistant manager erases your camera?

Much less sensitive was the woman minding the store below, Viver on 37th St. near 6th Ave.  She watched intently as I got ready to take a picture of the window, so I asked if she minded.  She said no, but seemed depressed; no doubt she'd sized me up as just another rube drawn the tropical fish tank-like display, and not a high class photographer about to make her fashion line world famous.

More Mad Hatters

Above and below left, the ragtag irregular army at Yurim Trading on 6th Ave.


Above right, a solar system of space headgear at Effetto Fashion on 37th St.  And below, right next door at Couture Inc., bright objects that (I imagine) are sported by church ladies who've been locked for decades in a headgear space race.

Van Cleef & Arpels Windows

Not a jewel in sight at the corner of 5th Ave. & 57th St., though I'd guess the huge, furry beast below left is well strung.


Silhouette meets shadow play above right, while below... a vampire ball in an ice palace?

Bergdorf 2011 Holiday Windows

White haired women dominate these windows at Bergdorf Goodman's 5th Ave. store.  Above, I didn't even try to fit the giraffe on the right into the shot.  Below left, a snow white 'fro scares the horses.


Above right, ballroom birds pose in front of winged-reindeer wallpaper.  And below, a white haired spectator admires a stuffed, brassy window.

Hurricane Irene Disappoints NYC

Did tired Irene [NYT] stop to rest in Trendy Corner's window at 6th & 37th?
Early Saturday morning a woman hustling a cart through Key Food gleefully announced "The End is here!"  Emergency shoppers had already cleared out the potato chip aisle, bought nearly all the canned sardine, and picked out all the single rolls of toilet paper, leaving bulk packages for the flood.  Streets were unnaturally quiet as people hunkered down inside; there's nothing like mass apprehension in a big city, waiting for the assault.

I was hoping that, before a satellite dish ripped from a roof came slicing through the blown-out window to chop me in half, I would have the satisfaction of knowing that luxury tower penthouses, with their invulnerable, weather-mocking owners still inside, had been sheared off and sent spinning north, to crash land on icebergs ruled by merciless inbred Vikings marooned centuries ago, and that the towers that house NYC's Feckless Lords of Finance had popped their glass and exploded, or at least got their feet wet.

But after a heart-pumping two day buildup, as our glorious, furious Doomsday Bride approached, ready to scourge, drown and then lift us, cleansed, into the sky...

Nothing.

So instead of being delivered into the loving arms of a wrathful god, we are left to face the dreary prospect of yet more life on earth: Washing the dishes (Didn't I just do that?), brushing our teeth (Didn't I just do that?), and leading shallow lives soothed by constant interruption and babbling screens that promise illumination but deliver just radiation.

Now I know how the Family Radio Worldwide believers felt when doomsday fizzled:

Keith Bauer, a doomsday believer who drove his family from Maryland to experience the Rapture at Family Radio's Oakland offices, told the News he was disappointed.

"I was hoping for it because I think heaven would be a lot better than this Earth," Bauer said.

From The Rapture to A Whimper, from the ultimate satisfaction of seeing your enemies crushed just before you retire to an eternity of bliss, to the realization that the only thing you have to look forward to is deciding which fugitive hope to spend your last $5 on: Caffeine or the New York State Lottery?

Now a chastened believer, I think I'll split my bet between the two...

8th Ave. Lingeries Toys

I recommend the Swiss Army Nurse outfit
Sure there's plenty of cartoonish plastic & steel fronting the Times Square / 42nd St. corporate theme park, but it gets harder all the time to find concentrated organic storefront visual vitality in NYC.  Luckily there's still some on 8th Ave. between 39th & 40th.


I hardly notice the Subway sign, lost in the barrage of cheesy We Buy Gold signs.  In fact I'm thinking that after I sell my gold (caps, crowns and fillings), I might just get a tattoo, a $125 suit, some Lingeries Toys, jewelry and a fresh haircut, then get a picture taken and renew my passport so I can take one of the trips advertized on the building above right!

She makes smoking look sexy again...

Landmark Galleries

Window displays were a disappointment this holiday season until I took a look at Landmark Galleries, on 57th St. west of 6th Ave.

The big window, below left, reminded me of fair/carnival booths with dishes and figurines you can (supposedly) win by tossing coins onto them.  Except that the figurines here are much higher class, at least according to the price tags, which also include artists' names.

And the subject matter here is racier than what you get at a fair.  From the Viagra Angel on top, to the milky Louis XIV cleavage clock above right, to the innocent-as-Roman Polanski tableaux below right, everything needed to furnish the lecher's living room is here!


And who can resist the innocent "artist at work" scene below?  So innocent that even the saintly San Pio -- the bearded figure to the left who looks evil only because he's been dipped in silver -- isn't paying attention.

Fresh Pearl Window

In the window at Lucoral & Lupearl at 246 W 38th St.

They sell Masami "First Lady Pearls," as advertised on the placard above.  From Michelle Obama, up there with Eleanor, Mamie and Martha, to Nancy Reagan way down there by Queen Elizabeth I, all the First Ladies are wearing Masami pearls!

They also sell "wish pearls," just below, that appear to have been blessed by Pope John Paul II.  The pink gift box is labeled "White for wisdom.  Cream for success.  Peach for health.  Gold for wealth.  Lavender for love."


You could probably sneak anything in to get blessed by the Pope back then -- your cat, a sandwich you were especially fond of -- but I doubt he approved the labeling.

Then there's the big goldfish and turtle tank, below, which features fake turtles to keep the live ones company while they watch the computer screens, waiting for something exciting to appear.

New Bloomberg City

Like wide screen TV, but $1000 a month to maintain
I think it's time we quit fooling ourselves, and rename NYC New Bloomberg City, or NBC.

Rinse off the stench of
wealth at ABC Home

The city's transformation is nearly complete, as Bloomberg Preferred Citizens^TM -- bankers, developers, and other people with Wall Street incomes, and the drones who furnish them with the regular and stainless amenities formerly found only in upscale suburbs -- have firmly taken control and, like arrogant weeds, are sucking up all the air that used to allow for the cultural and economic breadth and depth that made this huge village special.

Today's reminder that we live in two worlds: People who spend six figures on aquariums for their $16.9 million apartment as an alternative to a big screen TV.  Watching the bright, swirling trails of captive fish soothes the owner, and lets them imagine they are rinsing the filthiness off their wealth, transforming it to beauty and meaning.

Spend to Transcend ^TM*

I suspect that washing off filth via home furnishings and improvement is what a lot of people with too much money do.

From the window displays at ABC Home (above and right), where Spending is Transcending ^TM, to Jean Nouvel's "Vision" luxury tower in Chelsea, that had the normally egalitarian critic Nicolai Ouroussoff enthusing over interior details, as if the city is enhanced -- not by what anyone can see from the outside and the way a building meets the sidewalk but -- by imagining we were invited into one of those luxury apartments to enjoy the precious details and the way they express the owners' sensitive and complicated relationship to wealth.

And now, as usual, the rest of us are left to watch the Elect, those who gave their souls to Mammon, live the high life in their pretty fish tanks strung like pearls along the High Line, and let the enjoyment trickle down on our imaginations.

[ Previously: A Tale of Two Economies ]

* This ABC Home display, though up during Black History month, always made me think of a home makeover by the Manson Family.

Upstairs Window Displays

Some upper floor displays.  I remember Lost City wasn't fond of newer stores uptown that lit up the floors of crap inside at night, but I like these old-school displays.

Above and left, Earrings Plaza on Broadway near 31st.  It's a pleasing display but, with three levels, it's screaming for a religious theme with heaven on top, earth in the middle, and hell below.

Then, below left, there's the window of Man Hing Import on 5th Ave. near 28th.  With all the exotic rug merchants nearby, it was probably a good location for selling exotic vases, back in The Day when wealth might produce a few Culture Vultures in between the uncultured kind.


Above right, a window that Jeremiah's Vanishing NY has admired too, on Ave. A near 2nd St.  It's a warm relic, forgotten in plain sight, that harks back to modest days when a simple middle class kitchen -- with automatic dishwasher! -- was the height of luxury.

And finally, below, some brides who've likely been waiting in the window for years -- in gowns still as white as the kitchen appliances above -- on 6th Ave. near 38th.

Macy's Holiday Display 1

The best holiday display I've seen so far this year wasn't in a window, but outside -- the virtual Christmas tree hung from Macy's Herald Square storefront.

I don't like it just because it looks great on a foggy day, but because it doesn't require a theme like the store windows, which manage to go past the Santa-centric Believe Meter, pictured above left, to mushy intergalactic bromides about the power of belief -- in the sacred power of consumerism I assume, since these displays don't pay for themselves -- to heal our inner selves and clear store shelves.

Bergdorf Goodman Holiday Windows

I only saw the windows along Fifth Ave., apparently less creepy than the others, but still strange.  Above, the window woman protects her cake from passersby.

Below left, a sophisticate puffs past the even snootier woman in the window, dressed in a whipped cream gown.  Below right, a familiar sight -- I can't think of a serious painter who does not paint by chandelier while surrounded by dead stuffed animals.


Below left, the Birdwoman of Bergdorf Goodman, staring down a cuckoo clock.  (I fear for the lawn in nearby Central Park if she has to eat her weight in worms every day.)  Below right, a stuffed woman dressed in down, surrounded by stuffed birds and a pigeon palace.  (I think the window designers went a little overboard with the pair of "egg heads" at the bottom.)


Below left, I think the woman is supposed to be surfing the bottom of the sea, under a phony waterfall of resin and seasick green lighting; the only part I like is the cutaway seabed.  And finally, below right, another angle on the scene up top, with a clear view of the aristocratically attired grinch monkey hanging by its tail, fishing for plaster frosted cake.