I went into work this weekend but I was determined to do something fun for lunch. Let’s see: fun in Midtown. Nothing legal immediately jumped to mind. It was too early to start drinking and I didn’t feel like bowling. So I just walked around. Always a good idea in New York.
Serendipitously, I came across the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market, which has been in the back of my head list-of-things-to-do seemingly forever. All kinds of great things kitsch, retro and vintage. The two chief items on display are funky women’s clothing (though there were a preponderance of men’s hats) and antiques (old postcards, medical dictionaries, cigarette cases, paintings). In attendance were a number of trim women wearing those gigantic oversized sunglasses that I have a strong suspicion were fashion designers trawling for ideas and boutique owners with visions of markups floating in their heads. I watched a man in sunglasses and a corduroy suit carry away a black bear’s head mounted on a wooden plaque, which included, on separate-but-attached wooden islands, its paws. Also I saw a trim woman try on a snug-fitting zebra-print dress from the 50s (60s?) over her T-shirt and jeans, checking it out in an antique mirror leaning against a card table and considering the advice of a fashionista friend of hers (“We could always take it in a little.’).