Archive for March, 2012


Sunday, March 25th, 2012


Okay.  First things first.  Whether or not I agree with you, I will always defend your right to free speech and free assembly though, I get the feeling that if you don’t agree with me, you’ll bring me to the Tower Hill in London.  Just a vibe.  Anyway, prior to your little hijinks many months ago, I’d never heard of Zucotti Park.  Then I saw a photo of it. Really?   Okay. You want to call it a park, call it a park.  It’s like calling pineapple in its own juice a dessert…  I’ve had enough time to digest what I think went on there and yet I have some questions and some observations.  Who doesn’t?

Tourists flocked to Zuccotti Park in Lower Manhattan where members of Occupy Wall Street have been protesting for the last two weeks.


*     Why are you back?  Because we really didn’t have a winter?   Because “The Artist” won “Best Picture”?   Because you can’t afford a jitney to Occupy the Hamptons?


*     Today I saw a petite Asian woman wearing what looked like a $1200 Yohji Yamamoto designer blazer, Maramoto jeans and Christian Laboutins, sprawled out by the Black Cube sculpture at Astor Place, finishing up a sign that said, “OCCUPY EVERYTHING.”  I’m sorry.  You can’t occupy everything.  Most of you have a problem occupying a comb or a toothbrush.  I know that we Baby Boomers raised a generation of people who feel entitled to any and everything they want, and not getting everything makes you very, very angry.  But if you or your parents took out loans to pay for your $50,000-a-year Ivy League degree in Renaissance Studies, please don’t blame those big bad bankers and guys who work in Mergers and Acquisitions for the fact that you can’t find a job to pay back your loans.  Michelangelo laughs at you.


*     Who dresses you?  I’m sorry but, given a choice between the investment banker in the Hart, Schappner and Marx suit or you in the busted-up twin sleeping bag, the 1%er wins every time.


*     This is going to be more difficult to swallow than the New Zealand wines donated to you, but the 1%ers are never going to share with you. Never.  I’d call Queen Elizabeth a sort of British 1%er  — do you think she’s going to call someone in Brixton and say, “Pardon but my diamond-encrusted scepter would look absolutely brilliant with those rags you’re wearing.”?     Keep dreaming, keep your ideals whole, but please – allow me to burst your bubble.  The reasons the 1%ers are never going to share with you are as follows:

1) They earned it

2) They stole it

3) They inherited it

4) They want what they have and this isn’t pre-k – they don’t HAVE to share.


*    Um….. some marble slab benches surrounded by some sorry looking trees isn’t a park.  I think that was the biggest problem I had with your shenanigans.  At best you were not in Zucotti Park but more like a sort-of-plaza.  Setting up tents and peeing where you feel like doesn’t turn an outside space into a park.  Call me when you get the bike trails and carousel and Bethesda Fountain – okay?

Zuccotti Park in Manhattan

*    The amount of courage you showed by banding together and keeping those $30,000-a-year administrative assistants from entering their office buildings to earn a modest living is truly staggering.  The woman in the Easy Pickins’ polyester suit is one of your 99%, the part of the 99% who has to work for a living and I’m sure she really appreciated standing around in her Payless pumps for two hours while you blocked her from her cubicle and coffee break.  She is definitely going to be part of the 44-½ % that is going to kick your skinny-jeans-sad-looking-hoodie asses after she fumigates you.


*     You guys certainly are certainly unshakable, intractable, steadfast in your beliefs. It was just that one woman who went from your side to accepting a bank job faster than an Ethiopian marathon runner over a hot bed of coals while being chased by a pack of hyenas. Right?

NICE JOB! Tracy Postert went from Zuccotti Park to Wall Street, where she was hired by Thomas Belesis and Wayne Kaufman.



*      Your bravery was surpassed only by your vigilance in keeping those disgustoid-filthy homeless people away from the gourmet food being prepared for you by professional chefs who “felt your pain.” Those icky homeless people probably wouldn’t appreciate the salmon cakes with dill sauce or tomato with fennel and red onion or the Spaghetti Bolognese and sheep’s milk cheese salad.  In fact, fine food would make probably make them feel uncomfortable.  How would they know which fork to use, or which wine went with what entrée?  It was nothing but a selfless decision on your part to save the gourmet stuff for yourselves and keep the homeless on a stick-to-their-ribs diet of brown rice and nothing. Kudos, Occupiers of Gouda Wheels and Puffed Pastries.

FEEDING FRENZY: Occupy Wall Street organizers say legitimate protesters like these are being overrun by released Rikers inmates and derelicts who come to Zuccotti Park for the free gourmet meals.



*     STUPID ALERT!  STUPID ALERT!  Though he certainly looks slovenly enough to be one of you, Michael Moore who was there only because he thought “zucotti” was a type of pasta.  Find a park named “Cannoli” or “Hearty-Beef-Stew-SautéeD- in-Lard,” he’s there, filthy baseball cap and all.

Michael Moore

*     Joan Baez says, “Thanks for making me relevant again, even if it was on some shitty little plaza for a few shitty weeks, singing songs that were older than me.  Don’t forget – I knew David Crosby when he was thin and had hair.  I still can’t convince him to get rid of the suede jacket with the long fringy-sleeves.  But really – it was groovy getting to sing “We Shall Overcome” again.  But keep those protests coming and next time occupy something bigger than some little park-wannabe down the block from Century 21 Department Store.  And oh yeah – don’t eat the brown acid.”


David Crosby












Tuesday, March 13th, 2012

We haven’t had much of a winter, which is a huge reminder that spring will be here soon.  The trees and flowers will bloom, iced coffee will replace cappuccinos and the New York Times will have their big fat spring fashion issue, which is pretty much Elle or Vogue or Marie Claire without the stinky perfume cards falling wantonly onto your lap.  . Now I know there are some of you who regard these magazines and/or that annoying girl on the Style Network – (no, not Kimora Simmons – the other annoying girl), as though you were the helpless child and they the all-knowing parental figure.  You can believe them.  Or trust me….


LONG SHORTS —  Oxymoron.  If they’re long, how can they be short?  Long shorts or, as I like to call them, “thigh wideners.” Long shorts?   Are you going to day camp? Are you and Tom Sawyer going to whitewash the fence? Though I must say, in defense of long shorts, at least they give us a vacation from the cellulite, spider veins and butt cheeks that short-shorts offer. Long shorts are just a couple of inches shorter than Capri pants, both poor choices for women over 35 and women with cankles.  As these are not mutually exclusive, springtime can be a very scary season indeed.  I’m not a shallow person.  Really.  But there’s something about long shorts that just shouts, “Okay – I don’t know if I like these either.  Should I wear them?  She’s wearing them? Are you staring at me?  It’s my hair, right?  Okay, I didn’t shave my legs – so sue me.”


*  PASTELS – Yup. Pastels are back.   Dress like a Peep.  See if I care.


*  BAREFOOT RUNNING SHOES  – You know.  Those sneakers where your toes are threaded through elastic bands but there is no top of the sneaker?   Are you so narcissistic that you need people to stare at your feet because those ugly things are atrocity eye magnets.  Trust me – no one is looking and thinking, “Wow – cool!”  We are looking and thinking, “Wtf?” or “That woman has something stuck to her foot and it won’t come off!” These fugly topless sneakers don’t make you look sporty.  They don’t make you look stylish.  Wearing these will not help you win the New York City Marathon.  Coming from Kenya will help you. But you can’t buy that.  Waaaahhhhh!


*  BALLET FLATS –If you are 5’11 and weigh 101 pounds, ballet flats work.  If you’re 5’11” and 101 pounds, trashcan lids work.


*  SUSPENDERS —   It took all my willpower and then some to not beat about the neck and face the servers from TGI Friday’s and that was because they wear Mork-like suspenders because they’re earning a living.  They HAD to wear them.  You don’t.  If you are a sartorially splendid Brit who refers to suspenders as “braces” and wear them over your Turnbull & Asser shirting and under your Anderson and Sheppard suit jacket, I can tolerate them.  But if you choose to wear suspenders because you find them “whimsical” or “artsy” or “funky,” you clearly don’t own a full-length mirror.  Famous suspender-wearers in history:


a. the Oompa-Loompas

b. Larry King

c.  You


*   TRENCH COATS —  Yes – it’s a must for everyone’s spring wardrobe according to the fashion mags.  What if you like a barn-coat or a sweatshirt or a cardigan?  Too bad.  If you don’t own a trench coat this spring everyone will be laughing at you, gawking at you, pitying you.  “But Mollie, they’re in, “ you whine.  Okay.  Get one.  Keep in mind that most people who wear Burberry trench coats would like them more if the lining were on the outside so everyone else could know for sure their cotton rainproof rag cost $1200.  Also keep in mind that, to rock the trench coat, you must have a waistline, which is one of the reasons I think skeletons like Anna Wintaur and Marie Claire’s Joanna Cole insist that this is a wardrobe must-have.  Yes, they both have teeny waistlines, but they probably haven’t had a meal since the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles.


*  STRIPED JEANS —  Are you running the railroad?  Think you’re Mr. Conductor from Thomas the Tank Engine?  Back in the late 60s/early 70s, the last time striped jeans made an important fashion statement, most of the population was too high to mock you. It’s 2012 and I speak only for myself, but the snide remarks are popping in my head like 200 bags of microwave popcorn in a 600-watt microwave.


*  NEON COLORS — The only neon I want to see is an “Eat at Joe’s” sign.  The mags are telling you fuchsia is in?  For who?  Posh Spice is wearing chartreuse?  She has to wear loud colors so you can see her.  Oh, what’s the matter?  You like Posh Spice?   I insulted your taste? Not as much as your insulting mine by wearing a that NY Mets-blue halter dress.  Promise.


*  THE “MILITARY” LOOK – Funny how so many people who’d rather gargle driveway gravel than actually serve our country are the first ones to buy the blouses with epaulets and the khaki green jackets. First, I have a basic philosophical problem with taking a career where people put their lives on the line and turning it into “a look.”   “Love my tan camis?  Got ‘em at Scoop — Intermix was all out!” Fashion designers, most of whom don’t have the strength, courage and/or guts to fight for anything except a cold bottle of Fiji water or yard of charmeuse, at best trivialize and at worst, insult the men and women who protect the rest of us.  Face it – if you’re not in the military, it’s a stupid look.  It’s like wearing surgeon scrubs when you’re not a doctor.  The next fashion designer who shrieks, “Let’s do the Doughboy hat, only more modern!” should be forced to move his showroom to Kandahar. What’s next – the “slavery” look?  The “Holocaust” look?   The “internment” look?   Oh I am so afraid I’ve given John Galliano some ideas for Spring 2013.


*FEDORAS —  Are you going to sing “Fly Me to the Moon” or “The Lady is a Tramp”? Are you looking for the Covenant of the Lost Ark?  Thinking of shooting Elliot Ness with your Tommy gun?  Then get that Fedora off your head.  Please.  Especially you, ladies.  Especially the fedoras made of raffia or straw.  With a stripe around the brim or in a pastel color.  Just because they sell it on St. Mark’s Place doesn’t necessarily make it “hip” or “happening” or any other word that means “I-bought-this-on-the-street-from-the-Pakistani-trying-to-make-a-living-and-he-only-charged-me-twenty-bucks-so-he-must-think-I’m-from-New York!”  Start spreadin’ the news – leave the fedoras where they belong – next to the horizontal-blinds sunglasses and fingerless gloves.