My walking tour of 5th Avenue, New York
Remember when you were ten, and your little finger was curled into your mothers palm as you hid between silken Benares folds or maybe a chiffon skirt. She was talking to that neighbor who had just come back from that whirlwind visit from abroad. Your mother would say, “That’s beautiful, where is it from?” and the reply would come back casual, but topped off with a slice of smug, “New York.”
It doesn’t matter where you’re from, but if you have grown up on your mother’s diet of plastic covered vogues carefully acquired though cut throat negotiations with the local library; you have grown up with an interest in fashion that’s lying dormant and wired with affiliations that are lurking under the surface of your inner shopping GPS-New York and London, Saks and Bloomingsdale, Macy’s and Harrods.
