Yesterday I put on my favorite Rooster tie - black, olive and turquoise stripes - slipped the invitation to the reception for the emperor's birthday from the Japanese Consulate into my sportcoat pocket, and headed south on 95.
On the way to Hotel Sofitel, I stopped in downtown Miami to visit the gallery a friend's daughter was running. At 5 in the afternoon, N. Miami Ave. was bustling. I drove past packs of art hunters, a warehouse wall filled with larger-than-life portraits, and three policemen on handsome horses.
I parked in front of the Fountain Art Fair and headed in to an airless exhibit hall. One room led into another, the walls hung with drawings, paintings, photographs, paintings of photographs. Many of the people milling about had the prerequisite look of artists: decorative T-shirt, scruffy jeans, uncombed hair. I was the only person in coat and tie.
As I strolled, I got friendly looks. Curators glanced up from their laptops to explain their collections. A couple people complimented me on my glasses. I felt rather hip. (There are photos of David Hockney in Rooster ties.) Then it hit me: They think I'm a wealthy collector.
I walked out empty-handed.
7 comments
For the record, I nodded at you because I like the tie.
I have a thing for cocks.
As per your coat and tie, I am certain you weren't the only one here in profesional attire and besides, who wears a tie in Miami?
Scott Peehl's installation of video wallpaper in the mens bathroom was stunning by the way. I would check out the website and see if you can find a photo or two!
DK
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