Invite for December 2011 MAGIC Party
PASSWORD: FIORUCCI

Fiorucci. Those cherubs were a huge part of my childhood, as my twin sisters had the goods, and I snuck them from time to time. If you still have a t-shirt or pin from there, please wear it on Monday! To get in the mood, check out this fantastic video from a 1970s news piece about Fiorucci - the best part of the video are the expressions on the spectators' faces. Fiorucci was a fashion mecca from 1976-1984 at 125 East 59th Street (now a Williams-Sonoma, I believe), and they are credited for creating the first pair of stretch jeans with lycra. They tried to make a comeback in 2001 on Broadway near Houston (now a Best Buy), and not sure how long it lasted, but most bits of nostalgia can't be recreated. You can read more about Fiorucci history and the comeback in this NY Times article. A friend passed along an article from the Village Voice called "How to Be a New Yorker" and while it's definitely an entertaining read, mainly because I'm a sap for anything referencing old-timey NYC, I disagree with most of the points that the Alabama native writes (duh). There are a few excerpts that ring true - quotes from people other than the author - for instance: "Jeremiah Moss, the writer behind Jeremiah's Vanishing New York, expresses a frequent complaint: "Newcomers to New York want backyards, bicycles, and barbecues. They want Greenwich Village to be like their hometowns in Wisconsin," he says. "Underneath this—and not very far underneath—there's a seething hatred of urban life. They don't like the dirt or the smells. They don't like the kvetching and the neuroticism. They don't like the layers of history. They want to tear it all down and make it clean and new." and "Charles Ardai, entrepreneur, writer, and lifetime New Yorker, says: "People told my parents they were crazy to raise two kids here. No one says that to me now that I'm raising my daughter here. I wish they would. I want to raise my child somewhere no sane person would raise a child. That's how you make a New Yorker." As usual, natives have little to prove, but the people who move here need so desperately to feel that they belong and label themselves "a New Yorker." Hey interlopers, just be. And be nice. You're probably going to move in a few years anyway, and raise the rents while you're at it. But if you stay, be true to your roots, because natives can smell a phony a mile away. One sure way to tell if someone is a New Yorker: they get beautiful pangs in their heart when looking at 1970s footage of our city streets. C'mon, you know you do. I've said my peace for 2011. Hope to see you at the final party of the year on December 5, and then again for the 11th anniversary spectacular in February , 2012!