the street...man (in response to a question of influences) (Fashion Only Forum 1/25/01)

Life on the street: thrashers, hot dog vendors, hookers, the smells of churros and barbecue and tortillas and saurkraut and cookies baking, hot asphalt poured in potholes and pot and piss in the doorways, diesel and old Mopar blowby and busted radiators and hot lard, bootblacks and newsboys yelling "extra, extra - read all about it" - oops, wrong decade - tall antisceptic buildings with bag ladies and drunks, nightclubs with open doors blaring too much Nine Inch Nails and salsa, coffee at $3 a cup and the blind guy goes by listening to the pedestrians stepping off the curb before he does, and eggs frying at the Sun Cafe, while the tourists eat Italian and French and Slovenian and anything but Mexican, and dance to canned pop*ular tunes.

Night on the street where everyone tells tales and wails their misfortunes, while the organ grinder's monkey dances to the tune...there I go again. Anyway, water running in the gutter without apparent source, and the hawkers and bouncers and uniformed security guards pushing and pulling and protecting things you can't see without going past them. And past the worn out lobbies and ancient bellhops, warm hotel rooms with compliant ladies after dinner and drinks and dancing...

And I've always liked Guy Bourdin, Jeanloup Sieff and Helmut Newton.

-Don