Pat Field

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.

Citizen clothing

A million years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, I was walking down Castro Street and passed Citizen Clothing. A young salesman inside gave me "the eye" as I walked past, so, as anyone would do, I walked inside and applied for a job. Surprisingly, given my dearth of retail experience, I was hired. I had to lie on my resume, of course, and even had my best friend pretend to be a former boss when they called for a reference. And I stole, stole, stole at that job. I stole all my Christmas presents that year, and I stole a watch and many other items, none of which I still have (except for a white belt that makes me look like a trifling man).

During my recent trip to SF, I walked into Citizen and purchased this greenish shirt, without even trying it on. That's my penance for my months of theft at Citizen Clothing - now, whenever I go to SF, I will buy some ugly item without even trying it on. Just to give them some support.

That young salesman became my second boyfriend, Josh. To this day, Josh is the only guy I've ever had a sexual relationship with where I didn't have sex with him the first time we met. I remember once, after sex, I looked him in the eye and said, "I know that was good for you, Josh, but was it good for the Jews?" (He is Jewish). He didn't say anything in reply, but now he and his current boyfriend go to synagogue together, and have been together for years and years. I'll probably throw this shirt out by next summer.