It's not the fact that this is an old man tanning his face during winter in the middle of Washington Square Park that irks me, it's his purple, leather, snake skin, "look at me, I'm sexy!" bag that makes me uncomfortable. I bet back in the day this guy rubbed shoulders with Hendrix and Dylan in the dark, dingy cellar pubs of Greenwich Village, smoking some doobies and laughing about how they would someday change the world. Well, I guess his high fashion , geriatric man purse is a start, just maybe a tad too late in the grand scheme of things.
OK I have got drunk with the guy who does the reflective tanning- he loives in shoho and drinks at Fanelli's.. should I be concerned??
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