August 1 1987 - East Village - Journal

Good old Bridget has gotten himself into a dicey situation on the Cote d'Azur. Guy, her ex- legionnaire husband has impregnated a secretary working for his clothing company. Bridget and Guy at first married in 1982 to get her French papers in order, since her South African passport was banned for most countries, which is uncool for a top fashion model. Somehow this union of accomdation has continued for five years and her husband has finance her fashion line Yorke and Cole with Julie Cole. I can't count the times that the two of them were on the rocks and I've witnessed it close up, since I live with Bridget on Ile St. Louis.

Bridget convinced her husband that I wasn't a threat by saying I was gay.

She and I have never even flirted, because if I was to have sex with her, she would throw me out within a month and I need some place to stay and she needs someone to take care of her dear dog the Scottie, Angus.

Bridget's being angry with Guy is the height of hypocrisy, since she's been having an affair with Fabrice Langlade, a young painter with a Steaming Muslims, a popular artist collective. They fuck all the time. Bridget is cruel to him, to her husband, to our partner julie call, but never to Angus. Her nickname is Cruella, but I like her.

Guy and I get along. as a teenager he had served in Algeria with a Legion and once told me how his troop had forced all the inhabitants of the village into a mosque and then threw grenades inside. He was telling the truth. Drinking with him here in Paris and down on Cap d'Antibes.

Bridget is in love with Fabrice. Guy wanted her to be the perfect wife. No one is perfect, but he is satisfied with her, because he submits to her anally.

About the girlfriend down south, Bridget said, "I couldn't stand seeing her face in the office everyday smiling like she had won.

Her Wildcat temper got the better of her and she caused the grand scandal at the Biot office by beating up her rival and having her hair pulled out. He's fine the secretary would have been the next move, but the Lord opted against that maybe he likes having sex with a secretary better. Both Julie and Bridget want me to act like a dangerous terrorist, when I go down to the South later this month, not that I could scare a legionnaire.

I have my ticket booked for London as a courier and told my friends David tidball barry and Albert expect me August 20th. London in my old comrades even after 7 months in the United States. I don't know how I can deal with these Americans in their present mood under Ronald Reagan. Europe seems so idyllic now, easily forgotten that there are hard times there when there are no jobs not at all, being broke at the harsh mercy of Candida, no memory is too short

It's Da Shoes

Jacques Negrit et Moi avant le porte de le Royal Lieu - 1985 Foto by Anon -

As a doorman in New York, London, Paris, Hamburg, le Sud de France, and Beverly Hills from the 1970s to the 1990s the bosses always asked about my criteria for admission. Many other doormen said, "Shoes."

Me, it was a look.

A look like you wanted a good time without any trouble, although I never gave entry to undercover cops. Their shoes were dead giveaways. Cop shoes. Of course if they were off-duty, then they were fine, but I always warned them, "Don't pull any cop shit inside or else I'll never let you in."

And they didn't, although a few clients scootered out the back door reconizing arresting officers. They knew trouble when they saw it and I always checked on the off-duty 12 to see if they weren't trouble.

An undercover cop from the 76th Precinct in Red Hook, Rob Cea, explained, "People get nervous when they see us "

"It's the shoes. Change 'em next time. And next time come alone."

Damned, next timeRob Cea changed his shoes and came alone, and no one left the club, when he came in after that.

Ari my cobbler. I'm his Shabbas Goy.

Flips Flops Out

One of fashion's greatest stylists attacked summer comfort by saying, "Let's face it: FLIP-FLOPS ARE TO SUMMER WHAT UGGS ARE TO THE REST OF THE YEAR!" I agree with SL about Uggs, however hawai chappal, dép tông or dép xỏ ngón in Vietnam, chinelos in Brazil, Jandals in New Zealand, japonki in Poland, sayonares in Greece, Schlapfen in Austria, slippers in Hawai'i, slops in South Africa, thongs in Australia, tsinelas in the Philippines, and vietnamki in Russia and lan-tao are popular worldwide despite fashionistas' contrary opinion and date back to Egypt 4000BC. Current sales figures for flip-flops is estimated at $10 billion per annum. I wear mine year round. Flip-flops are nothing like Uggs. And a friend of SL invited the stylist to come to California, where 'dudes' wear them to work! "Where's California?" SL travels the Milan-Paris-London-New York circuit. Upset by his derision I retorted, "Sorry Sascha, but I hiked through the himalayas in flip-flops from aerosol. better than wearing muddy sox for three weeks. Shoes are outre pendant l'ete. Sandals sont toujours le scandal for comfort always trumps style for those don't have to buy style July 7 at 6:58pm · Like Of course only cowboy boots are for fighting with flip flops. Even barefoot is better.

Resist The Rich

Over 400 factory workers were murdered in Bangla Desh by the capitalist terrorism and millions are homeless around the world thanks to the class-cleansing policies of the banks. This country's pillars of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness have been destroyed by the rabid accumulation of wealth over the last thirty years under the free market system. There is only two courses of action. International Write-Off day and Resist the Rich.

Cool Pockets

Back in the 1970s men wore tight clothing. Men were thinner than now. Beer bellies were way in the future and these men didn't have crew cuts like most men of the 21st Century. They were cool. Back about those pockets. Are these men Mormon missionaries?

Fashion Faux-Pas in Pattaya

Pattaya is a well-known beach resort for a variety of reasons, but the fashion consciousness of its male farang population is certainly not one of the drawing points. The town boasts more sweep-over hair-dos than a General MacArthur lookalike jamboree and a surprising number of gentlemen sport beards and moustaches better suited a b-grade pirate movie from the 1960s. Obviously many guests have been spared a woman's touch before their arrival here and they are oblivious to their present girlfriends' entreaties to smarten up their appearance.
Now there's nothing wrong with keeping your wardrobe simple. Everyone should have a couple of jeans and a good shirt, but a staggering number of farangs consider the standard attire of a tee-shirt and shorts appropriate for every occasion. Breakfast at the local bacon and egg joint. Tee-shirt and shorts. Golfing with your mates. Tee-shirt and shorts. Beering yourself brainless. Tee-shirt and shorts. And some of these sartorial folks wear the same outfit more than one day in a row telling to themselves, "Funny, I don't smell dirty." Like hell you don't. God forbid one of these nose-dead farangs should get on the elevator. You barely have time to hold your breath. Of course the one time most farang men make an effort to dress is in preparation for a stroll down Walking Street in search of female companionship. Young men inevitably splendor themselves up as boy band wannabes with spiky hair, groovy shirts, and snappy trousers like they just got thrown off the set of AMERICAN IDOL. Middle-aged men with a Peter Pan fixation wear sport sleeveless tee-shirt to exhibit the muscles earned from long hours at the gym aided by about $5000 worth of steroids. Newly arrived travelers see a silk shirt in a tailor's window and think. "Silk. Sexy." On a girl near naked in bed. Sexy, but Thai women think silk shirts makes you look old. I know. I've bought a few and my girlfriend always shakes her head. "Old, old, old." And she really doesn't care what I look like as long as I come home from a venture to Walking Street with some money in my pocket. My friend Gordon was approaching 70. He didn't make any effort at all. He wore vulgar Hawaiian shirts and perched two sets of glasses on his red ribbed nose, while drinking rum and cokes. He couldn't be any happier. "What I have to worry about being good-looking. I left my looks in my 50s." Actually in the old days the only essential fashion accessory in Pattaya was a baseball cap onto which you can clip a 1000 baht note. It might not get you the girl of your dreams, but someone will come along and say, "Hey, sexy." After all it is low season.