OW 73 - Outweek.net

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cut-o.ut 0011book,,09slgned by saneone
with the delightful name of Queen Holden.
It costs $8.95, and a funny Beaver
Cleaver hat with a twi~y-twirly on top costs
$11 :50. I left Ken's fQr Keru,eth Cole,
where I admired a pair of canoe-shaped
black patent leather pumps, for $100, and
some suede boots, in yellow, forest green,
red or black, for $98. I was just about
through with Columbus Avenue by then. I
got on my bicycle and cruised the remaining
blocks, catching here and there a
glimpse of the neighborhoods pre-'80s
stores like Supreme Hardware and
Frank's Hairstyling, an old barbershop
where Frank (I presume) glared at me
resentfully when I a~d him how much
he charged. He had a big wall clock, a
marble counter and a fun floral curtain at
: the back, but he didn't find me as charming
as.! found him, and he stared at my
patented ACT UP crew cut and said suspiciously,
"Ten dollars 'n' up," and pointed
at the clock. It was 5 pm. I bicycled home
to the East Village through the midtown
rush-hour traffic. . -
Mynext.big e}(cursion was Christopher
Street on another sunny day, late in
the afternoon, with the sun melting slowly
into Jersey and casting shadows on the
brownstone and red brick facades of the
West Village. I started at the foot of
Christopher;Street at the Hudson River,
..where aline.Of wqterfront graffiti, "Uve to
Be Legendary,~. is sprayed in yellow, blue
and red across a concrete barrier. At the
Spy Shop, next to Bailey House, I contemplated
surveillanCe and coonter-surveillance
equipment useful accessories for
the activist llano who lives in fear of FBI
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infiltration, Storeowner frank Jones carries
everything fran beer cans with secret
hideaway compartments ($25) to a bean
. box that conceals a closeckircuit television
camera ($5,000). Dressed for espionage
in a black. turtleneck, Jones demonstrated
an electronic debugger, a small
black box that vibtates warningly when
saneone else is carrying a concealed
tape recorder. "Wear it under your shirt,"
he said, winking. .
Shrugging my shoulders as if flipping
up the collar of a trench coat, I
walked two desolate, waterfront blocks,
'.past a rusted sign advertising Marine
Repair, and stopped to answer a ringing
public telephone.in front of the Silver 001-
. lar Restaurant. The caller hung up. I
brusbed my lips existentially, like Jean-
Paul Belmondo in Breathless, into AII-
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26 H O'L •• A Y ••• T • U • D.
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America Boy. The wanan working
behind the counter, grinning with a caus-
.tic New York affability, explained the difference
between All-Ameri~ Boy and
New York Man--"New York Man is much
fUrther up the street," she said-and
watched me as I fondled a rack of silk
boxer shorts, $38 per pair. I liked the yellow
ones, which they call "citrus"; the
boxers also come in peach, which they
call "ginger"; blue, which they call "plum";
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and black, which they call "black."
Crossing Hudson Street I stopped in
the Christopher Street Bookstore, where
they were selling a Peter Gun, a blue
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squirt gun with a pink penile attachment.
But the man behind the counter said it
didn't have a price tag, and anyway, it
was broken. Cresfallen, I went immediately
to U Lac Candies, where I considered
drowning my sorrows in fudge squares
($1.25 each), mint-green and chocolatebrown
marzipan acorns ($23 per pound),
a chocolate credit card ($2.50) or a
chocolate lV remote control ($8).
But I'm off sugar. I fled the candy
store and crossed the street to the
Leatherman, where, if I felt like it, I could
See COLUMBUS on page 32
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First class housemen. Handsome, informal, reliable,
Bartenders and waiters available.
(212) 691-1798
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