Brotherhood of the Crazy Hats

I have really been hating New York lately. Its absolutely fucking freezing, you have to cover every inch of your body for fear of frostbite. Homeless people have snot icicles hanging from their nostrils and all the rich women look like blonde bears in their 50,000 dollar furs. All the train lines are under construction, it took me two and a half horrible and chilly hours to get home from the upper east side yesterday, i wont bother detailing why but sufficed to say i was the public curser on the train that night! Ben is out of town on tour in Europe and im crazily getting ready for going to Senegal on my own. The only thing I like about this winter is my hat. Last year i bought this brown knit hat with a huge row of tufts down the middle that looks like a trojan helmet. Its very warm and cozy, with two added benefits: people's reactions to me are GREAT! One guy actually clucked and pucocked at me on the street, two brooklyn kids burst out laughing hysterically and doubling over, people love it and love to hate it. Secondly is that in NY there is a secret brotherhood of those of us bold enough to wear truly crazy hats. There are many, one girl had an oversized white knit hat with a huge tassel on top and the side braids came down to her waist, a japanese guy in union square had a hat that was a bear's head, a woman in the bleeker station had a huge rainbow fur cylinder on her head, she smiled at me warmly as she walked through the open doors of the six, mahdis wears a crazy thick fake fur wraparound hat that looks terrific. The wealthy upper east side women who wear inanely huge beaver and ermine hats are exempt because they dont think theyre hats are crazy, they have a totally distorted idea of what kind of outerwear the rest of the world employs. And they spend too much money on them to consider them eccentric. Its like an enclave of russian aristocrats from the 17oos. Anyway, the real members of the brotherhood acknowledge each other, like black men, and volkswagen owners. Like, I see you baby, nice hat.

Dad's World

Maybe Ill just turn my beautiful experience over to my dad altogether!! He's terrific.

Dear Vivi,
The theft of your wallet is very discouraging. The amazing
coincidence of Ariel's walking onto your car on the train late at night,
though, is a reminder that the people who know you do care about you and do
reward the time and attention you invest in them. Your excellent blog entry
juxtaposes three instances of theft, which are shocking exactly because the
thieves care nothing for the impact their actions have on the lives of
others, NOT because the thieves want to have an adverse impact. The spyware
hacker, the crooked stylist, and the eurotrash cocaine/meth addict who stole
your wallet, all live imprisoned in a selfhood that has no natural
connection with the lives around them. They view the outside world, when
they are conscious of it at all, with the mixture of fear and resentment
that paralyzed the hatcheck woman. Just imagine; you actually wanted to
talk to her about something she did! The realization that there was a world
beyond her own petty plans and solipsistic imaginings was obviously
something she couldn't handle, so the only response she was capable of was
flight. By wading into the world of fashion, which is by definition a world
of surfaces only, you are exposing yourself to a higher-than-normal danger
of encountering such behavior, so you have to defend yourself accordingly.
Of course, you approach what you do as art, as a medium of expression, and
as a means to realize your own drive to improve the lives of others.
Surely, you are not alone in this, but neither are you in any sort of
majority. Most people you encounter do not have the education or the
upbringing that allows them to open themselves to others, or to enter the
lives of others without fear. One hopes that, from time to time, the
accident of encountering you will bring a glimmer of a hope of something
better into the life of such a person, and allow them to open themselves to
love, but, in your Zayde's immortal words, "Keep your hopes high, and your
expectations low."

Love,

Dad
Exes and Ohs

Second Verse, Same as the First!

Two years ago, almost to the week, Jan 22nd of 2005, you might recall that my purse was wrested from my padlocked locker at SVI and the contents used to purchase stockpiles of personal weaponry and cigarettes. Well, the good new is, this time (no silly, I didnt have everything copied so I'd know what was inside!) the card was cancelled before they rang up any charges! Hooray! I worked all day saturday at the salon, and decided to take a gig doing a late night fashion show for fashion week, the "Peroni Beer: Made in Italy Party" show. It went from 9:45 to 1am. It would be a long day, but seeing as they were paying, and Im about to be unemployed I thought, "Suck it up cinderella ladyhands! Better try and make whatever money you can!!" So I worked my ass off for my 70 dollars in tips at the salon, and only had one glass of wine at dinner so I wouldnt blow it all in one place. Marisol (a really great but tremendously shit talking and hyper dramatic Puerto Rican/Spanish stylist who elected to do hair at the show with me) and I went to Sofrito, a midtown Latin food restaurant with decent prices and good drinks.

As it turns out, the slovakian ex-receptionist from our salon is now coat checking there. Shes alright, I never was really fully on board with her...I aint sayin shes a gold digger, but she aint messin wit no broke ni**a, if you know what im sayin! She convinenently "fell in love" with her dorky but sweet flat top IT/programmer boyfriend the minute he let her move into his condo rent free, bought her a diamond watch and a horrible little mini pinscher which i was nauseated to hear they named Parker. She plays this whole wide eyed, big boobed Eastern European, country girl thing that just doesnt sit quite right with me. Especially considering that her best friend is the bleach blond, also ex-receptionist, divorcee daughter of a prominent hasidic rebbe who totes her little daugher around her like a bratty barbie and dresses the frum part when she goes back to the enclave in Westchester but wears stilettos and sheer tops when shes in the city. There are a lot of rumours about her and various married men. Feh. So anyway, there has been a huge brouhaha at the salon because one of the senior stylists, a sweet and very successful filipino lady named Roza who quietly rakes it in day after day, chews with her mouth open and talks with it full, has been laying the groundwork to open her own salon and steal the most well booked employees from Chaim and Judah. Now, I think thats really underhanded. There is nothing wrong with opening your own place, but to do it while working for someone else, without telling them and try to take their best people, thats just not nice. I hadnt heard anything about it, no one talks to me about that kind of gossip cause i usually say i dont want to hear it and walk away. I didnt think that kind of middle school technique really works, but it seems to have after all! Just say nope to dope (and pathetic middle aged salon gossip!) When I went to give the guys notice last monday they asked me what I had heard about someone opening a new salon, Im sure I looked like a real idiot/liar saying id never heard a thing about it. They were all, "everyone's talking about it," and I was all, "not to me they're not!"
So I went upstairs and scrounged around with the mudslingers (mainly Marisol who said she told Roza she didnt want to hear a thing about it but still seemed to know everything and was furious because she heard a rumour that she was a partner which was NOT true!) for a min, and found out that it was Roza who was up to it! I was shocked. Naive maybe but true. Also found out that she planned to make Natalya, the gold digging, Slovakian ex receptionist her partner. What a team? So everyone at the salon is talking about it all secretively but talking about it nonetheless, including Chaim and Judah, everyone knows, not under wraps in any way except that Roza is in the phillipines for the month so she doesnt know that the shit has hit the blowdryer.

So, we get to the restaurant, and Natalya gives us this really enthusiastic and over exuberant greeting that Ive seen her give clients a million times. We start making small talk, hows your boyfriend oh youve lost weight, blahzeh skip, etc etc. Now, the only substantive thing I have to talk to her about is this damn salon crap so I says "So! You and Roza are starting a salon??" To which she BLANCHED, looked like fear's cold fingers had clutched her heart, and said "Who told you that?" at which point I realized that I probably shouldnt have said anything "Well," I said "everyone is talking about it, I thought it was just common knowledge! No secrets!" She stared blankly at me for a minute, then walked away. We assumed she had to return to work, but actually she left! After we didnt see her for about 15 minutes, we asked the woman womanning the coatcheck in her absence if she was there and she (who Marisol informed me Natalya told her didnt like her and had tried to get her fired for weeks.) So this chick was like "ya ju know, che was herr buh che lef' an deen really say why i guess som ting chappn an' che jus' had to leeave allasudden." Again, I was shocked! Why would you leave? How wimpy!! I guess that proves the rumours are true, I mean, she couldnt even look at us. Way to do some really underhanded shit and still want everything to come up roses and daffodils.

So we go to the fashion show. It was a total Italian eurotrash scenario. Men in tight jeans with too stylish hair, emaciated women in very small clothing, lots of indoor smoking (hey, theres a whole country for you guys!! Its called ITALY!! Go back, and take your cigarettes, great clothes and and perfect asses with you.) They had no room for us, no chairs and one outlet wedged into the corner with eight models waiting to have their long hair done, in a soft messy beachy style. So we set up as best we could, all the while fending off the one womanchild model who kept wanting to sit on our laps and talk about having sex with other women, and touching the hair of the models we were curling (call a sexual abuse hotline kid, im working.) We did some decent to mediocre work. I did one cute asymmetrical updo. It was the best we could with the time and (total absence of) light available. The air was thick with smoke and the adoration of rich old men for thin young women. The show was all of 15 mins long. Totally amateur, it was cool for me to see how much really professional stuff I have been to though. Then we packed up our stuff and I set off for the train. Its finally gotten cold here, and windy. By one it was about 18 degrees. When i got to the station, i went to look for my metrocard and tahdah!! The ol' stolen wallet refrain. I went back to the show to make sure it hadnt fallen out (which it NEVER does,) and to tell Marisol that it was gone. Then I went back down to the train, bought myself a one ride metro card and cried all the way from 42nd street bryant park to home. At W4th street Ariel walked on to the same car that i was on and said "Vivi???" Cant really imagine the odds against that happening.

I felt like never getting out of bed again. For some reason, having worked so hard at the salon for ten hours and working a double just to try to get ahead and having it snaked out from under me was DEVASTATINGLY discouraging. I stripped off my clothes without even turning on the lights and went to sleep. Ariel cancelled my debit card cause I didnt even care. I feel only marginally better today. Last week I spent untold hours on the phone with microsoft tech support despywaring my computer after a fake Microsooft (spelling error included, those devious bastards) popup caused me to download these fake "anti-spyware" actually are spyware programs on my laptop. Pest trap my ass.

Im telling you, there are all these people out there who spend all this time figuring out how best to sabotage any attempts you make at success. They derive the joy of accomplishment from ruining strangers lives. Its incomprehensible and infuriating. I've probably met one or more of these "hackers" and not even known, its like being an arsonist walking amongst the general population and meeting people eating cereal and lighting an apartment building on fire in a faraway neighborhood, not even staying to watch it burn. Really makes you want to start a stellar career as a SHUT IN. But no, NO! You cant let them win!! Keep going!! Keep trying! Life is a bold adventure!! Work overtime, take chances, dont let opportunities pass you by! BTW its Ten Twenty Four, do you know where your wallet is?