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On their toes, in front of Samantha Thavasa, Madison at 75th, last night at 8 pm. Photo: DPC. |
July 2, 2009. Beautiful summer days in New York. Some big rain showers every now and then, but so what, who cares? Beautiful anyway.
I joined Facebook and NYSD joined Facebook yesterday. JH reneged. Curiosity was one big thing. My friend Jesse Kornbluth is who very smart, finds it interesting and had recommended.
I’m sure all kinds of things have been written about our communications phenomenon although they’ve eluded me. I also joined Twitter which is still beyond me in terms of knowing “what” and “why.” I used it Tuesday night for the first time. I thought it would be good for business. You know the web business is like any other, shill, shill, shill and then shill some more.
Twitter. I couldn’t think of what to write. I’m a person who is rarely without a thought or consideration in his head, no matter where I am, no matter where I go. Yet with that little dumb distraction of a cell phone screen before me, I couldn’t think of a damned thing to Twitter. Or Tweet. Or like dogs barking at the moon. We’ll see.
One thing is sure, the world is getting smaller and smaller. This aspect of our civilization is rarely discussed: how are we gonna communicate when our minds collapse from being squeezed up against one another, all with an overload of truly inconsequential information? Will we die of terminal ennui? We shall see, said the blind man.
Last night I went down to the Samantha Thavasa boutique on Madison and 75th, up the block from the Whitney. There was a party called “Tinsley Mortimer with Q Magazine.” Since my name sits somewhere in that magazine’s roster, and we’re celebrating the Summer issue of Q, I thought it might be nice to make an appearance for Elizabeth Meigher, who really put this beautiful magazine together with her cohort, Edward (Fast Eddie) Barsamian.
Store parties are not fascinating to me but they make a lot of sense. New Yorkers love to go out and young New Yorkers naturally bask in its social life which is rich and diverse. Merchants get some bodies in amongst the merchandise; ideas are planted there. It’s on-site advertising. The guests get a party: new people, old people, maybe’s here and there, yakking and even champagne lotsa times. Or something good to drink. On a warm summer night in the early evening after-work time, could it be bad?
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| Tinsley Mortimer at “Tinsley Mortimer with Q Magazine” party. |
| Tinsley with Elizabeth Meigher. |
This crowd at Thavasa was the younger set, Upper East Side, the 20- 30-somethings (with a couple of over-the-hillers assisting and photographing). So the mood was up. People were having a good time.
I had a good time photographing the scene. I love to photograph Tinsley Mortimer. I think she’s one of the most glamorously beautiful women in New York, and I’m always intrigued by her photogenics: she always looks great. She’s become a pop culture-icon of a figure of this New York decade, with a good dose of young married-ness and high life to garnish. That’s what makes New York different from any other world class city: We make our own stars. And then of course, we kick them around. It’s so American, no?
Last night Mrs. Mortimer was all-blonde and pink. I really don’t know the girl so whether or not her personality would dissolve that charisma, I have no idea. Nor do I wish to: I like her just the way she is. Tinsley. John O’Hara would have fictionalized her somehow. Scott Fitzgerald too. Maybe Papa Hemingway too. Not sure about Mr. Mailer but he’d a given her the once over more than once. |
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| Chris Meigher, Dr. Douglas Steinbrecht, and Mark Gilbertson |
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After leaving the Q party, with the intention of heading home, the early evening was so lovely I decided to walk for awhile. Madison Avenue was quiet. This part of town had already packed up for the night, maybe even the weekend. The sunset beyond the Park’s treetops, visible from every western corner as I walked up the avenue, was a golden vanilla-orange glowing over the green -- a soothing vista -- and I found myself exclaiming aloud how beautiful the night was. Quietly, don’t worry. There wasn’t anyone else on the pavement for blocks anyway. I give thanks for these.
I got some shots of the boutiques on the Avenue in the upper 70s and the early 80s. A lot of sales; it’s that time of the year no matter the economy, although everyone knows things are very slow right now in many areas. I’m putting it gently. Nevertheless, if you’re in need, this is the time to pick up what you need. Only Ralph Lauren (where I first mistook the window designer for a mannequin as I was passing) didn’t have a sale sign in his window. |
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