• Category Archives New York at Night
  • Broadway is Broadway

    I often take calls in the course of business from non-residents of the city, who, unfamiliar with the details of Manhattan, question me about my Broadway address. Is it THE Broadway? they ask. Yes, I reply, it is THE Broadway. However, Broadway, which spans the entire length of Manhattan, varies considerably depending on where you are. At one time, not long ago, Broadway in SoHo was only a quiet commercial/industrial thoroughfare. But it has changed.

    When I say change, I mean radical change. Change that almost defies imagination. Change so substantial that I question my own memory. I wrote of this in Cast Iron Stomach and Six Geese a-Laying. When I first moved to New York City in 1969, SoHo was not even an acronym yet. It was strictly an industrial district, essentially an industrial slum, a neighborhood I only passed through, perhaps on the way to Chinatown or Canal Street. At one time in the 20th century, the area was known as Hell’s Hundred Acres for the frequent fires that arose in the loft warehouses.

    More recently, even after gentrification, alleys such as Crosby Street remained undesirable, yet pushed to ferret out every remaining square inch of what remained, Crosby Street became every bit as desirable as the rest of SoHo. There are no bargains left, or undiscovered backwaters in Lower Manhattan.

    In Bleecker Tower, I wrote:

    The area was dominated by industrial businesses – leather distributors like Marap Leather who occupied an entire building at 678 Broadway or Commercial Plastics at 630 Broadway. In 1980, Unique Clothing Warehouse opened at 718 Broadway at Waverly Place (president Richard Wolland closed it and filed bankruptcy in 1991 with over $2 million in debt), beginning a wave of transition. In 1983, Tower Records opened at 4th Street and Broadway (recently closed). A few months later, the elegant Blue Willow restaurant opened at 644 Broadway in the building shown in the photo.

    There were early pioneers in SoHo, both individuals and businesses – places like the Park Place Gallery. Alison Knowles had rented space as far back as the late 1950s on Broadway north of Canal Street. From Illegal Living: 80 Wooster and the Evolution of SoHo:

    Illegal Living is the story of the building at 80 Wooster Street in New York and the people who lived and worked there. The first of 16 artists coops started by George Maciunas, founder of the Fluxus art movement, Fluxhouse Coop II spurred the development of SoHo and the spread of worldwide loft conversions. … The artists of SoHo, while focused on their art, also built community, participating in the creation of a new form of residential development. The building was a magnet for the avant-garde who were drawn to Jonas Mekas Cinematheque, a ground-floor space that hosted happenings, film screenings, dance and theater performances, concerts, and art shows. Hundreds of artists including Trisha Brown, Richard Foreman, Allen Ginsberg, Philip Glass, John Lennon, Hermann Nitsch, Yoko Ono, Nam June Paik, and Andy Warhol showed their work in and around the building.

    There were a handful of well-known early retailers, such as Dean and DeLuca. One of the earliest that I personally recall visiting was Broadway Panhandler at 520 Broadway, eventually to move due to soaring rents. Little did I know I would come to occupy the 3rd floor of that very same building in 1990, where my business remains to this day.
    When I moved into the building, it was occupied entirely by sweat shops manufacturing clothing. I was the first “upscale” tenant. The landlord was very favorable towards me, seeing it as the first step in a new type of tenancy. Today, the building is occupied by media companies and businesses such as Built NY, Inc., a design firm that manufactures a neoprene bag and case line. The company holds over 180 patents, and its products are sold worldwide.

    In its industrial days, SoHo was deserted at night – a ghost town. There were no retailers – manufacturers and commercial/industrial suppliers occupied even the ground floors which today command a huge premium and would make such use unthinkable. Now, the area is saturated with retailers, both of the common garden variety such as the Gap and also very high-profile merchants, including names such as Louis Vuitton, Bloomingdale’s, Prada, Coach, Apple, and Topshop. Foot traffic is outrageous on a day-to-day basis. Typically the sidewalks are so crowded that I resort to walking in the street, even then to be frustrated by people, vehicles, food carts, and other obstacles. Once, in complete frustration, I took to walking in the center lane against traffic, which I wrote about in Dead Man Walking.

    Today’s photos are taken from my office window looking up Broadway in the evening. In the past, lights on Broadway meant the theater district and Times Square. Now, we have lights here in SoHo too. It seems that everywhere you go, Broadway is Broadway…


  • My Ride With André

    I loved My Dinner With André. This award winning film is a two-hour conversation between two individuals in a restaurant in New York City. On the basis of the premise, it might appear that such a film would be boring, but quite the contrary. I found it very engaging and at times, even riveting.
    Good conversation is often overlooked as an activity or reason to get together, even by those who greatly enjoy it and engage in the most impassioned interactions imaginable.

    When I was in college, invariably someone would interrupt a very animated discussion with “So what are we doing?” meaning, of course, What are we doing tonight? Where are we going?, etc. He or she would get little response as the rest of us would be completely immersed in conversation. The question would come up again and again, sometimes others joining in the mix, round-robin style. There was a nagging quality to the desperate plea, the asker irritated that no one was listening to the question, everyone was wasting time, and no decision as to the night’s plan was being made. Yet no one appeared to see the irony of the situation. Our impassioned conversation(s) were likely more interesting than anything we would find outside.
    One evening, having had enough of this chronic scenario, I made a statement, something like “Hey, don’t you guys get it? THIS is what we are doing.” Everyone acknowledged the merit of my assertion, but to no avail. It was a welcome bit of comic relief, but regardless of how engaging and fulfilling our conversation might be, we still needed something “to do.”

    Recently, I returned by car from Woodside, Queens, to Manhattan. I decided, as I had in Wild Ride, to video record while driving the streets of New York City. On this trip, however, I was not alone but rather accompanied by several friends. Lively conversation ensued, and I recounted a number of stories from my life experience in New York City as we whipped down Atlantic Avenue. All can be seen and heard in the video below. My entourage appeared to enjoy the ride and the lively banter. It was like a sequel, My Ride With André 🙂

    Posts referenced in the video: I’ll Kill You, Sittin’ On Top of the World


  • Room With A View

    I recently attended a community board meeting regarding a very hot-button issue for Village residents: the Parks Department’s enforcement of new “expressive matter” rules, created to limit artist vendors in parks in 2010, applied to musicians and artists who take donations. The rules prohibit vending within 50 feet of a monument (includes the fountain) or 5 feet from a park bench, effectively making the park off-limits to performers. The impact of this is huge. Attorneys Norman Siegel (formerly of the ACLU) and Ron Kuby were on hand and poised for litigation.

    The issue is of great personal interest to me as well as others, but I am not much for politics and political process. As a small business owner, I am accustomed to speedy decisions and implementation. We can turn on a dime if necessary and change course rapidly, addressing competition, changing markets and customer needs, streamlining business procedures, and a myriad of other functions. The prospect of decision by committee with long-time horizons for implementing change is anathema to the small business owner.

    But political process is a necessary evil for a democracy with liberty as a cornerstone, and I respect that. However, I also do not relish an evening in a public forum, even on a relevant issue, listening to a large number of community residents making their cases one after another, essentially to be heard by those in agreement. Only if the collective voice becomes large enough, like the Vietnam War protests, and/or legal action or the threat thereof, will the powers that be take notice. Even the Parks Department representative left the meeting early, which I found quite sad.

    A friend suggested that I speak since my entire business life has been supplying performers, many of whom work the parks of New York City. However, everyone in the room was in accord – I saw no change being effected by speaking to the choir, so I slipped out.

    The meeting was in NYU’s Kimmel Center, a newly built student center perfectly situated on the south side of Washington Square Park. I had never been in the student center even once – admittance typically requires a student ID, but not for a public hearing. So as I left the meeting room on the 8th floor, it occurred to me that I was now IN and not being chaperoned or policed. This was a rare privilege and opportunity to scout out spectacular vantage points for some photography.

    The front of the Kimmel Center provides spaces for study, with windows directly overlooking Washington Square Park and facing north towards the fountain area, the arch, the Christmas tree centered below it, and Fifth Avenue running all the way up to the Empire State Building, appropriately lit in green and red, befitting the holiday season. Stairwells were accessible and are glassed, also providing views in a darkened environment.

    I was happy to have left the meeting. I was thoroughly enjoying my exploration – lemonade made from the lemons of political process. As you can see by today’s photos, if you are lucky, Kimmel is the place to go when you seek a Room With A View 🙂

    Related Posts: Pockets of JoyComfort and Joy, Only in New York, Delivery, Nested Embraces


  • Dyker Heights, 2011

    As this website has evolved, I have added more video. I have created a YouTube channel for New York Daily Photo where all the videos can be seen in one place. Looking into the future, I intend to create more videos and short documentary films of New York City.

    Recently, I took another excursion to Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, with a friend. Although the displays are relatively the same from year to year, I enjoy the ritual, as I do the Christmas window displays on Fifth Avenue.
    This year, I shot and compiled a short video of my tour of 84th Street between 11th and 12th Avenues – see below. This block is literally the show stopper, with bumper-to-bumper car traffic during the holiday season. Recommended to all who have not toured the area. Enjoy Dyker Heights 2011 !

    Related Post: Simple, But Effective


  • ATM $10 Bills


    This was somewhat a replay of my experience in Harlem visiting the churches known for gospel singing. People, places, and things are not zoo specimens for the voyeur. I always feel conflicted when visiting areas where I am clearly the outsider. Worse with a camera. I am sure that even my sincerest efforts to be part of another’s world for a short time is perceived as slumming. And to some extent, it is.

    However, I was curious about Canarsie. For no reason, except that in all the years I have lived in New York City, I had never been there. I had one friend who had lived there for some time, and he painted a much less than glamorous picture. Slumming is not admirable either for the curious or photojournalist, but I went anyway to see what I could see. I thought I would combine the outing with a meal and found Armando’s Pizzeria to be highly recommended. Some said it was the best in Brooklyn.

    I was chasing the sun as one does this time of year, and by the time I got to Canarsie, it was already dark. Bad for photography and bad to really get a feel for a new place. And bad neighborhoods just look worse at night. Before heading north into the center of the neighborhood, I saw a turnoff for Canarsie Pier. I was right there, so no big investment of time to explore this little waterside park. I was blessed with one of the most spectacular moons I have ever seen. So much so that I was going to call this story Moonrise Over Canarsie (see Ansel Adams Moonrise Over Hernandez). I ran out of my car. The night was frigid, and my hurried snapshot does not do the moon justice.

    From there, I headed north on one of Canarsie’s main thoroughfares, Rockaway Parkway, where Armando’s Pizza was located. Initially, the bungalows and smaller homes just spoke of a neighborhood that appeared to be modest but tidy. When I arrived to the main shopping area, the gritty reality of Canarsie made itself abundantly clear. Dollar stores and discount shops dotted the main avenue. I drove to Armando’s, at 1413 Rockaway Parkway. This was not at all how I had envisioned the place. It was essentially a slices-to-go type of operation with a few seats. I was clearly the interloper.

    In a flagging economy with 10% unemployment, visiting neighborhoods like Canarsie is not going to lift one’s spirits. Slapped over their menu specials, as if it were more important, a sign in the greasy windows said it all: ATM $10 Bills…

    Related Posts: Moonrise Over Hernandez, Dot My I, Back to Our Main Feature


  • Wild Ride

    Wednesday night, returning from Brooklyn, I was feeling a little wild, as is sometimes the case when I find myself driving in New York City and life is GOOD. Then the city just ELECTRIFIES me – I can feel its high voltage coursing through my body. Everything is RIGHT and I know I am in the world’s most exciting city.

    With no prior plan to do so, I suddenly just decided to pull out a camera and video record a leg of my journey with stream of consciousness narration as I drove. See the NYC skyline from the BQE. Cross the Manhattan Bridge with me, and then cruise the streets of Lower Manhattan, NoHo, and the Village. The footage is raw, jumpy, and a little out of focus at times. It’s not reality TV – it’s the REAL DEAL while on a Wild Ride >>>

    Posts referenced in the video: 212 and 2:12, New York Rockies, Sittin’ On Top of the World, No Sir, Pull Ahead, Childhood’s End, Public Theater, Astor Place Cube


  • No Cannibals

    In 1989, Daniel Rakowitz shocked New York City when he murdered and chopped up his ex-girlfriend Monika Beerle, made a soup out of her body, and served it to the homeless in Tompkins Square Park. Rakowitz, the “Butcher of Tompkins Square,” was found not guilty by reason of insanity and moved to a state hospital for the criminally insane.

    It is hard for anyone to imagine, even to those of us who lived in New York City, that not so long ago in the 1970s, the East Village was one of the most frightening areas to live in or visit. Extraordinary, because it was just a stroll away from the center Village and some of the most desirable and expensive real estate in New York City.

    Even through the 1980s, when much of the city had improved considerably, Tompkins Square Park remained a high-crime area, had encampments of homeless people, and was still a center for illegal drug dealing and heroin use. Rents were extraordinarily low – many drug addicts were able to afford apartments there, with lifestyles funded by selling drugs or through burglary and muggings. Virtually everyone I know who lived in the East Village in the 1970s was robbed or assaulted. It was truly a lawless land. Even to walk to St. Marks place at night could be worrisome. Alphabet City was no man’s land. Things escalated, and on August 6–August 7, 1988, the Tompkins Square Park Riot occurred. Since 2004, the annual Police Riot Concert commemorates this event.

    Last week was the first time in my entire life that I walked through Tompkins Square Park at night, something that four decades ago would have been unthinkable to me. In the 2000s, a woman friend I knew regularly attended bars and clubs in Alphabet City. She trekked the area at extremely late hours. I was astonished that a single woman would venture out alone there; when I questioned her, she could not understand my concern that she did such a thing routinely.

    However, even in 2011, Tompkins still has an edge. I find the nondescript, high fences to be very disturbing visually, a reminder that this place’s character is far from the parks of Paris, where a fence a few inches high with a small sign to stay off the grass is adequate to keep trespassers off. Here, even after renovation, I find the atmosphere much like that of a well-manicured prison yard with a feeling that restraint is necessary, lest there be an outbreak or an invasion of some kind. No doubt that many of these impressions are now largely a product of my mind from witnessing decades of decay, horror, and crime there.

    So, on a recent chilly Saturday night, I walked through Tompkins Square Park from one end to another. It was only 8PM, but already the park was deserted with only a few stragglers here and there. The atmosphere was spooky and eerie to me. I was quite uneasy in that small jungle at night, but at least I saw no cannibals.

    Related Posts: Transgendered Jesus, Mike Fontana, Irony Candy, Fluff, Leftover Crack, Bohemian Flavor of the Day, Piercing al Fresco, Gem Spa


  • Come Back For Jupiter

    If you spend enough time on the streets of New York City and mingle, you are going to experience a depth and breadth of humanity that boggles the mind. Not only will you find an absolutely astonishing number of people with incredible talent, but likely, you will on occasion find the serendipitous meetings to be even more amazing.

    On Saturday night, I ate dinner at my favorite local Italian restaurant, Trattoria Spaghetto (as mentioned in my story, Donato), conveniently located on Father Demo Square. It was an exquisite evening. Strolling out and through the small park, I saw a man with an enormous telescope, welcoming all to observe and partake in the wonders of the universe for free. There were no shortage of lookers.

    Our master of ceremonies on Saturday night was Jeffrey Jacobs, who acquainted me with the organization, The Sidewalk Astronomers. Examples of “sidewalk astronomy” date back over 100 years. One of the popularizers of the sidewalk movement is John Dobson, who pioneered the design for the large, portable, low-cost Newtonian reflecting telescope known as the Dobsonian telescope.

    The telescope was set up to observe the moon. However, I was informed that in approximately an hour and a half, Jupiter would be visible above the roofline of the neighboring buildings. Jeffrey encouraged me to “come back for Jupiter.” I intended to wander, stroll, and return, but instead found myself drawn into the social scene that grew around the telescope set up for observing the moon. The time passed quickly.

    However, this is New York City, and the evening would not be complete without upping the ante in some more remarkable chance occurrence. A man who, coincidentally, had also eaten at Trattoria Spaghetto introduced himself. Employed at Columbia University, both he and Jeffrey bonded over their mutual acquaintance and reverence for John Dobson.

    Soon, Jupiter made its presence, and I was excited to observe it in a telescope for the first time. My turn in line came. I was able to see Jupiter’s bands and its four moons. Jeffrey was ever the patient educator, helping each onlooker to identify the features and moons.

    It was an exciting evening, with lovely surprises, chance meetings, and a fortuitous planetary alignment – just another miraculous night in what could easily be another episode in the series Only In New York or Sidewalk University, but for me, more appropriately called Come Back For Jupiter 🙂

    Related Posts: This Is Not New Mexico, Back to Our Main Feature, Full Moon, Gothic Night


  • Have a Beautiful Day

    Please Click and Play Audio Clip to Accompany Your Reading:

    Today I’d like to share with you what it’s really like here. Not some sanitized, candy-coated, pretty, inspiring view of this city with false promises.

    What’s it like to live in New York City? As Professor Gurland would agree, you’re gonna get bruised. It’s an abusive relationship, but in this case, there’s no one to call for professional help.

    You’re going to have to look at scenes like that in today’s photo. Why do I say “have to”? Because on some days, you’re going to feel inspired by things like the Chrysler Building, a glorious living testament in steel and stone of what man can achieve. But at other times, you’re going to be asked, do you measure up? Do you have what it takes to live here?

    Giants are everywhere you turn. There’s nowhere to hide. They tower above. You’re silently being judged. Can you make it? Don’t be deluded by Lady Liberty in New York Harbor. Yes, she’s welcoming of all, but she’s a siren, ready to send you back as fast as you got here. The exit door is bigger than the entryway.

    Does it sound angry? Arrogant? I’m sorry, yes it is. Overachievers dominate the landscape. Genius is around every corner. I didn’t make the rules.

    But it’s not hopeless, and the prize is worth being a contestant. If you need encouragement, look a little more closely at Lady Liberty – there may be a wink and a smile.

    Oh, I almost forgot. Have a Beautiful Day 🙂


  • Mine

    One of my earliest childhood experiences wass flying simple balsa model airplanes with my friend Jaime. Portuguese in ancestry, Jaime’s English as a very young child was virtually non-existent. I only remember him using one word in English, and that was when we flew our planes in our yards together. As we chased them to recover them at the end of their flights, Jaime would run for his saying, “Mine.” What better word to learn for a boy playing with his toys?

    As a child, I was fascinated with all things that could fly – kites, birds, butterflies, damsel flies, rockets, planes, parachutes, balloons. However, lack of money and proper understanding of aeronautics foiled many of these endeavors. I recall jumping from the top of my father’s automobile with an umbrella in a desperate attempt to fly or parachute. I built small parachutes from napkins or pieces of cloth, suspending objects from it. Fabricating kites from found objects – sheets and tree branches – resulted in craft much too heavy to fly. I saw paper hot air balloons in catalogs such as Edmund Scientific but never was able to purchase one.

    Only as a teenager or adult was I able to take these childhood interests to fruition. In high school, I became very actively involved in the model rocketry club. In my 20s, I took ten hours of flight training towards a pilot’s license. In the parks and beaches of New York City, I flew kites of many styles and sizes.

    I still dream of owning a small plane. This and occasional nightly dreams of flying have become metaphors for freedom and release from a life of increasing stresses, responsibilities, and the slings and arrows of urban life.

    On Tuesday night, I witnessed something I have never seen before anywhere in New York City – the launch and flight of a paper hot air balloon. The owner appeared suddenly from nowhere, quickly lighting and releasing the balloon, barely allowing time to make our way towards the launch area. Powered and illuminated by a small flame, we watched the glowing orb rise into the clear night sky, becoming smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared.

    Jaime, and I know that you are reading this, please know that as I ran towards that balloon, my mind drifted to those days of childhood when we chased our dreams through the grasses of our yards. I hope you caught some of your dreams, because I have caught a few of mine 🙂

    Photo Note: All the photos on the website are typically taken by me. However, it was impossible for this sequence of balloon photos, since I would have been unable to capture reasonable quality photos at night with a point and shoot camera. My photographer friend, Bill Shatto, had his Nikon D3, a pro camera with extraordinary low light capability, faster focus, tracking, and low noise. Today’s photos are courtesy of Bill Shatto. Photoshop work is mine.

    Related Posts: A Small World, Under the Sun, Floyd Bennett Field


  • Not Of Them

    We live in a time when there is a perception that you can find everything on the Internet. Shopping, dating, socializing, employment, video, film, TV, music, travel arrangements, reviews, activity listings, books, and massive information. Certainly it is one of the most transforming technologies in humankind.

    However, from a different perspective, it is only a tool to better the human condition and facilitate those things that humans love to do. Many still do not use the Internet at all, and others feel that it is a crippling, not enabling, technology. Some who hold these beliefs are quite young – not just old curmudgeons, as one might expect.

    Even in New York City in 2011, there is an underground world of people, places, and things which can not be learned about via the Internet or any way other than by being personally connected. These things are cultish by nature, and the lack of information, either printed or electronic, is part of the allure and a necessary condition for participants to find authentic. A corollary will be, of course, the lack of marketing hype or any commercialization whatsoever. Although well-known at this point, the Burning Man festival very much embodies this spirit.

    What may come as a surprise to many is that there is a burning community in New York City that is alive and well, comprised of individuals who enjoy fire manipulation in all its forms – fire hoops, fire poi, fire staff, fire juggling. Gatherings are very much like flash mobs, occurring spontaneously on short notice with changing venues. Open fire is not legal in this city, so the nefarious nature of these gatherings is further understandable. They are typically late-night and often continue on into the wee hours of the morning. For many, 6 AM typically means it’s bedtime, not a time to wake up.

    Last week, I was told of a burn that was to take place in a park in the far East Village along the East River. Aware of these burns for some time, I decided to make a visit. Performers took turns doing fire routines to a backdrop of vehicles whizzing by on the FDR expressway. There was no hierarchy, structure, or schedule. I lurked in the shadows taking photos and video – no problem, as others were doing the same.

    I left early, at 11:15PM. The person that told me of the gathering arrived after that time and told me they burned until 6AM, wandering to other locations. Many of these participants were customers, and at one time, I may have been inclined to introduce and ingratiate myself. But I am wiser now, and although I was happy to be invited by a member of the community, I know I was only with them, not of them 🙂

    Related Posts: Birds of a Feather Tied Together, Supercute!, Signature, Circus Amok, You Don’t Say


  • This Is Not New Mexico

    Posted on by Brian Dubé

    The sun and the moon are two of the few natural constants we have in New York City and the moon is one of the very few celestial bodies we can see reliably at night – with the powerful ambient urban light, we do not often have nights where many stars and planets are visible. Such is city life.

    Today is the full moon. Last night saw some stormy weather and at the tail end, as skies began to clear, we had some spectacular conditions with fast moving billowy clouds providing a constantly changing canvas.

    At times like this it is not unusual to see amateur and professional photographers shooting away. A number of us found a choice spot in Washington Square Park where a few leafless trees provided perfect outlines to frame the moon. It’s not the Moon Over Hernandez, but hey, I’m not Ansel Adams and This is Not New Mexico 🙂

    Related Posts: Dot My I, Back to Our Main Feature, Sun, Moon and Stars, Hell’s Gate, Full Moon, Gothic Night

    Posted on by Brian Dubé

  • Old New York, Part 1

    Posted on by Brian Dubé


    There are things you can’t have in New York City. Many things. You can’t watch the sunrise from a mountain top, hear the wind blow through alpine forests, or see the black of night. Much of what nature giveth, New York City taketh away.

    The sound levels are very different here. I spoke to a friend recently from the suburbs who spent a night down the block – on the very same street where I live with the identical exposure. He said he could not sleep at all with the noise of constant traffic. The sounds of the city are only a familiar song to me – I sleep easily without window shades drawn and with all the city’s ambient light and noise.

    Here and there one can find tiny corners, places, culs de sac, alleys, parks, beaches, lakes, rivers – little pieces of the other world, the world outside cities. These special and often little known places in New York City provide magic carpets, that for brief moments can provide transport to a quieter, gentler city. I have shared these places with you over the years in this website.

    I do love the city – the energy, vibrancy, and stimulation are extraordinary. But the problem is that you can’t turn it off. So for those times when I need respite and do not have the opportunity or inclination to leave the city, I seek solace in those special spots that hearken to a time gone by or a world apart.

    The Greek Revival houses of Washington Square North evoke the gentility of a bygone age. Here, at the corner of Washington Square North and Fifth Avenue is a row house where I have often seen windows open, lights on and a handful of people milling about. This is the world of Henry James, 1881, setting for his novel Washington Square.

    A couple relaxes with glasses of wine, one resting on the sill, complemented by the exquisite air of warm evening, which has, after a long wet and cool spring, arrived at last. There’s a canopy of trees overhead and the yellow-orange glow of lamps. Everything is soft. Pause on this corner with me and enjoy the soul of old New York…

    Note: If you want a piece of Old New York at Washington Square, see Part 2.

    Posted on by Brian Dubé

  • Lonely in a Crowded Room

    Posted on by Brian Dubé

    There was always a bit of drunken revelry – such were the times and so was my family. Alcohol provides not only a social lubricant, but often social embarrassment. Now out of harm’s way, those times provide rich fodder for stories never told.

    Those parties were some of the highlights of my sisters’ and my childhood. Family was involved and so they were much more than parties, they were reunions. The affairs I have attended at gallery openings and such in New York City always feel so vacuous to me. Admittedly, their function and the attendees reasons for attending are entirely different, but nonetheless, I cannot help but feel disappointed.

    One trend in retail in recent years is the pop-up store or gallery. As our economic times worsen, many businesses look for new ways to market existing brands, feature new products, sell seasonal goods or just make some needed cash with reduced rent in a temporary space. Marketers are all looking to create buzz these days, and in Manhattan, many of these pop-ups will certainly create some buzz.

    I strolled through SoHo with a friend when returning from our expedition to Nom Wah Tea Parlor in Chinatown (see Part 1 here). At 18 Wooster Street, we stumbled upon a major soiree in full swing, with the gallery’s front completely open to the street. It was a Fiat pop-up store. The front was cordoned off and the entrance guarded by the requisite bouncer and a woman with the guest list. There are the practical concerns of controlling attendees, however, I suspect the greater reason for admission is to create the illusion of exclusivity and desire to get in, a technique employed for decades in private clubs. After all, what retailer really wants to restrict admission to their showroom?

    When we arrived, however, there had been a break in policing the gate and we were encouraged by a bystander to enter. The place was replete with booming music, fashionistas dressed to the nines, hors d’oeuvres and snacks on immaculate trays offered by formally dressed servers. There was all manner of meeting, greeting, eating, drinking and flirting.

    Oh, and yes, there were a few that looked at the new Fiats. A few snacks and the feeling for a few minutes that I was worthy to be at an event so important was enough. But really, deep inside, I was anxious to go home. There was no better evidence of how someone could be lonely in a crowded room…



    Posted on by Brian Dubé

  • Let’s Share a Drum


    Have you ever been seasick? My first experience with this was a return ferry ride of two hours from Nantucket. We had rough seas at night and I quickly became very queasy. I had only one thought – get me off this boat. Being at the lower level with odors of fuel was not helpful so I decided to move to the rear and go outside. Here I found a man with his girlfriend – she was in a similar, but more advanced state.

    I was surprised to learn that he was a Norwegian sailor, so at least I had the benefit of well seasoned companionship. He invited me to join his girlfriend who now had her head over a 55 gallon drum serving as a garbage can. I had nothing against her, but the prospect of both of our heads in the same oil drum was not what I had in mind, because I was not really ready to vomit – I was holding on at all costs.

    Our sailor could sense this and gave me advice that made a lasting impression. He said that the key to this situation was DONT FIGHT IT. GO WITH THE BODY. He repeated this many times. No, I don’t want to go with the body. I don’t want to vomit – I hate that feeling. Forget it.
    He elaborated, repeated and also informed me that eventually, being sick at sea catches up with every sailor. This surprised me. He said given enough time and extreme weather conditions, every sailor has his day. This was my day and I was not enjoying it at all. I can still hear him with a Norwegian accent – go with the body.

    His admonition, however, seemed well suited outside the world of sailing, seasickness, nausea and vomiting. Go with the body was tantamount to the old adage, go with the flow. Many unpleasantries are worsened by resisting circumstances beyond one’s CONTROL. This is the secret to dealing with stress in New York City – rush hour crowds, horrendous traffic, long lines, etc. Visitors, often coming from the suburbs where the logistics of life are easier, are perplexed at how New Yorkers can tolerate the stress of the city. The key is not just to pick your battles but not to engage in battle at all. Don’t’ fight it – go with the flow.

    I dislike rainy days like today. I find them so dreary and rather than embrace them, like the nauseous seafarer, I fight them, hoping and waiting for signs of clearing, wishing for the sun to peek through. But here, as elsewhere, rain can be comforting. It can be an opportunity to refocus and participate in things better suited to a rainy day. Stay indoors to work on some overdue projects. Relax and read, go online, watch a movie or TV. Perhaps dress appropriately, go out and enjoy the glistening city. When seasick, don’t fight it, go with the body. In New York City, don’t fight it, go with the flow. And if we find ourselves together, let’s share a drum 🙂

    Related Post: Landlubber



  • dinamic_sidebar 4 none

©2026 New York Daily Photo Entries (RSS) and Comments (RSS)  Raindrops Theme