Wednesday, April 29, 2009

"Everybody Alexander Wang chung tonight" by Nicole

Picture this scene, if you will: my NGFBFF (non-gay-female-BFF) and I were wandering around NYC, trying to find an obscure, off-broadway theatre near Canal Street to see a show starring a guy we'd never met, who, incidentally, has a huge boner for her.

We step into an elevator and press 3. The doors open.

Screw the theatre. Screw Iowa. THIS was heaven.

I don't recall any specifics...I just remember alot of black and white tile, mammoth crystal chandeliers, and racks of sparkly shit I probably couldn't afford. It was fabulous. Our heads practically lift off our bodies as we lean in, to catch a stolen glimpse of this jewel hidden among the rough streets of Manhattan - in which we were certain we didn't belong.

The stylish blonde standing on the other side of the elevator doors agreed.

"You guys going down?"


Our heads reattach as we take our places on either side of the blonde like two awkward, doe-eyed bookends.

"Um. What was that?"

"Alexander Wang."


The doors open on the ground floor and we go our separate ways. She, to continue living her lavish, presumably perfect life - and we, to continue look for the theatre and subsequently shit ourselves.

Holy crap! Talk about a Hot Ass of the Week! We, in our search for theatrical obscurity stumbled upon the Alexander Wang showroom?!

Now, in case you've been living under a rock, Alexander Wang is just about the hottest young designer right now. Go on and Google him, I'll wait. You know all those ripped jeans and tissue-thin Ts you've been seeing just about EVERYWHERE?? Yeah. That's him.

The next morning, as the sun shined, we walked to find a place to grab pancakes and a Bloody Mary and passed the same unmarked, unassuming building where we had had our life-changing elevator ride to couture paradise. While NGFBFF and Boner Boy chatted, I glanced up at the second floor windows longingly, when, there he was - leaning against a wall of perfect glass. On a perfect New York day. In perfect solitary peace. From his perfect world.

We caught each others eyes for a moment and I looked away, suddenly shy from his gaze. Alexander Wang. Looking down from high above like a skinny, fabulous, asian Jesus watching over his flock. As I walked down the hot sidewalk on this gorgeous New York morning, with $1 in the pocket of my ripped jeans, the sun wisping through my tissue-thin T, and Alexander Wang looking down at me, life suddenly felt just a little perfect.

The spicy Bloody Mary diluted my morning haze and, as I sipped, I wondered if somewhere, on a second floor near Canal street, a skinny asian Jesus thought I was fabulous.

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