If you are interested in film and New York City, I would highly recommend the Hitchcock classic Rear Window, starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. The film, a virtual shrine to voyeurism, takes place in a Greenwich Village apartment, where Stewart, confined to a wheelchair while recuperating from a broken leg, spies on his neighbor’s apartment and observes a series of activities which lead him to believe that a murder has been committed. The film is very engaging and we get what feels like an added bonus – plenty of time with Grace Kelly on the screen in charming repartee with Stewart. The film has been highly applauded, a winner of 4 Academy Awards and numerous other accolades.
Many feel that much of the film’s appeal is because of its voyeuristic premise. Some go further to say that part of the appeal of film itself owes to its voyeuristic nature and the inherent desire of most people to watch others secretly.

People do like people watching, and cities are perfect environments to do so. I recall my surprise at the table arrangements in Parisian cafes, where seats for two are joined side by side facing outwards, rather than each other. This made so much sense that I was immediately puzzled why this practice was (and still is) virtually nonexistent in New York City.

There’s no better place for people watching than New York, and with millions of residents, there are large numbers who have long given up concern about who’s watching what. Public Displays of Affection (PDA) and all other manner of exhibitionistic behavior abounds, and for the voyeur, this city is the Devil’s Playground.

The woman in the photo was relaxing on the third floor above Broadway in SoHo, certainly not a place where there is an expectation of privacy. Fire escapes in New York City often function as outdoor terraces, and over the years, our office has been entertained with various activities there (see Window Washer here).

The scenario is reminiscent of another film, The Time Machine (from 1960), where Rod Taylor, on the start of his many journeys in time, observes a store mannequin and its changing wardrobe. The window and mannequin become icons of stability in a world of changing fashion. In the 19 years I have faced Broadway, the buildings have stayed the same, and only the names and faces have changed. With such unabashed displays from a front window facing a major thoroughfare, there’s no need for a rear window…

One thing that can be refreshing at times about children is their brutal honesty and frequent lack of pretension. They say what they think and do what they want without regard to social norms.

On Saturday, the city hit 79 degrees, and it appeared that every able-bodied New Yorker was on the streets and in the parks. A group of street musicians was performing in Washington Square Park and had an instrument case open for contributions. A father had taken the opportunity to teach his child the ways and means of supporting the arts. His daughter made a number of trips to and from the open case to her father, who supplied her with a coin on each trip. Satisfied with her deposits, she even closed the case for protection.

Soon, however, this child quickly appeared to see the opportunity and attempted to make a major withdrawal, reopening the case and dipping in some money. Why not just take what is available? Perhaps she, like many others in today’s banking crisis, had concerns over the security of her deposits. The entire thing became a small theater piece for the entertainment of all – the music took a back seat to the performance.
Some may feel that this was just typical of a child’s behavior, not socialized and left unchecked. It can be debated, however, whether adults are any better or just more covert in their execution.

Admonitions were not adequate to dissuade her, and the father had to resort to a dragging ritual. But Dad should have realized that one could do much worse in handling money and investments (as most of us have). Perhaps he (and we) should see her actions as a very good way to handle a banking crisis 🙂

We have all heard the taunt or admonition “Get a life.” But what about those less fortunate who, because they have not been dealt a good set of cards or are at a point in life where they are down on their luck, may not have a life to get? And if one does not have the good fortune of an extended family or available friends, the world can be a lonely place.

I can tell you from having lived alone at various times that I believe being in New York City provides a lot more entertainment and distraction at those needed times. Like it or not, gossip in one form or another occupies a large part of people’s social interactions, particularly those without a life. New York City offers enormous fodder for the lonely yenta.

Two friends and I sat in a vehicle in a parking spot on Fifth Avenue, waiting for the appointed time indicated on the parking sign to set us free. We became very intrigued by the vehicle in front of us, shown in the photo, so for the duration of our captivity, we began to speculate, becoming amateur detectives. One companion was a former New York City resident, Brooklyn-born and street smart.

We observed a few things. The vehicle was a car for hire, indicated by the T&LC (Taxi and Limousine Commission) at the bottom of the license plate. The man hovering was obviously the driver waiting for his client. This was not an ordinary client for several reasons. The vehicle was a Mercedes, parked outside an extremely fancy doorman building on Fifth Avenue in one of the most prime locations in the city. Lastly, and most interesting to us, was an odd sequence of letters, FHAAHHMS, which certainly must be a vanity license plate.

Now I suppose that our indulgence in the minutiae of life is not unique to the city – the occasional interloper in a small town is often subjected to the same scrutiny and speculation by idle gossipers. However, for those without a life, what better place to be than in New York City? Walk out of your door anytime of day or night, and you enter a world that is a veritable circus, with the broadest range of humans on exhibit that you are ever likely to meet. In Spike, I wrote of a man with a unique style and whom I recently met at Astor Hair. Where else could he dress like this, strut with pride and confidence, and be treated like a celebrity? André, who I featured in Out There on August 22, 2007 and Fashion Forward on November 9, 2007, is someone whom I now frequently meet and greet on the streets of NYC. I have since learned a little more about fashionista André Johnson – he graced the cover of French Vogue in 2007.

Any thoughts about the letters on that license plate, FHAAHHMS?

Note: According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first use of “Get a Life” was from a 1983 article in the Washington Post: “Gross me out, I mean, Valley Girls was, like, ohmigod, it was last year, fer sure! I mean, get a life! Say what?”

Posts of the Unusual: Out There, Spike, Narcissism Gone Wild, Spring Madness, Superheroes, Snake Charmer, Circus Amok