Daniel and I went to see "Winnebago Man," then walked up Third Avenue to get some coffee. On the way, he pointed out the (semi) new retail location of Patricia Field. In my youth, it was on 8th Street. Then it moved to - I believe - Mulberry? Now it's on the Bowery. Tomorrow, who knows where ... Wherever the smug need asymmetric tunics, I suppose.
Once, I pretended that I'd worked at Patricia Field, to get a job at Citizen Clothing on the Castro in San Francisco. I'd moved to SF with no aim, no goal, and I ambled past the store one day and happened to look inside. A hot young fellow working inside gave me "the eye," and I got all excited and went in a day later and applied for a job. Talk about aimless! I gave them the number of my "manager at Patricia Field" - actually, my best friend Alia, in Los Angeles - and they called her for a reference, and she lied her ass off, and I got the job. It turned out to be sort of a lame job - they only gave me 20 hours a week, so I was pretty much destitute for those beginning days in California. I had to handle a lot of shiny blouses, which the gays were hot for at the time. But, a couple of months later I was dating the hot young fellow. A couple of days after that, I went home for Christmas. I returned to find that I'd been fired in a most passive-aggressive manner - I'd merely been removed from the schedule, and not been put back on. I guess I didn't bring as much to the position as you'd need to. I found a job as an administrative assistant at Lehman Brothers instead. There, I learned far more than I ever needed to know about real estate investment trusts.
Daniel recently purchased a pair of shorts from Patricia Field. I hope to help him out of them one evening.
