One night while walking through New York with Russell, Mary, Shannon, and Russell’s friend Roman, we happened to end up in SoHo. Roman, sort of our personal tour guide to the area explained to us that during the day, SoHo is kind of like an alternate reality. “It’s full of models and people trying to be discovered by agents. There really isn’t a hair out of place. And even the guys. All the guys walk like this,” he says as he walks haughtily with his chin up. My reaction, not exactly what should have been expected after Roman’s description, was something along the lines of, “ohmygod, I HAVE to move here!”
My desire to go completely bankrupt by moving to SoHo was only increased when we walked past the corner of Prince and Broadway. My heart almost skipped a beat in excitement when I saw it. Prada! I tried not to seem like I was too excited by gawking, turning my eyes almost painfully back into my skull to get a glimpse at the spring line on display in the front window. On the way back from the cafe we stopped at for some tea, I demanded that we cross the street just to walk past the Prada store again. I nearly salivated when I saw the men’s collection through the back window.
Now, while I was perfectly comfortable looking at this beautiful clothing from a distance, I wasn’t exactly running to the front door. The scenario running through my head of what might happen if I did try to enter the store involved a man in an uptight French accent shouting “You are not worthy of Prada! Get out of here, you mere mortal!” and then me being booted out of the store by a giant bouncer-type guy in sunglasses.
I’m sure that this obsession with and pedestalization (okay, I just made up a word) of a clothing company seems a little bit unhealthy and people were quick to inform me of that. Mary told me that she would never be caught dead in a place like that. Russell told me that while the clothing was alright and pretty and all that stuff, it was way overpriced. But the way I see it, fashion like that is more like art. People pay millions of dollars for good art. And this is art that you can wear. So really, it’s not than unreasonable for a polo shirt to cost $800. Right?