STORYTELLER

s e v e n w h o l e d o l l a r s

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[ t h e n e w y o r k e r s w e e k e n d ]

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storyteller

16 ON THE COVEROUR STORY BEGINS HERE New York from the New Yorkers eyes. No more tour groups, it’s time to take back this town for what it we know it to be.

28 36 HOURSHOLD YOUR LAGER IN BOSTON That’s right, Boston. Leave your sporty opinions to yourself on this one, because here lies a great town. Grab your weekender and go, it’s time for another 36 hour getaway.

WHILE WE’RE HERE

THAT PLACE BEYOND THE LINCOLN It’s this little thing called “New Jersey”. So many sad rumors about this state, but we don’t like just hearing things, we prefer to live them out for ourselves.

LAHBSTAHS AND BUTTAH In case you have yet to catch on, this is in reference to Maine. It’s this adorable place up north with lighthouses and lobsters. Read as to why to check it out.

SUBWAY SERIES Not talking Yankees v. Mets here, more like the theroy of subways in general. Here’s our guide of hoping on and getting off, assuming you know how to do so. It’s like an adventure!

50HOMETOWN GLORY Sorry, it’s not Adele, though that would pretty cool. Adele seems like a very nice and friendly person. No, this is about that CMJ Music Marathon here in New York.

THRILLER IN THE VILLAGE If you don’t know this, it’s probably best that you read up fast so you don’t look ridiculous in front of your other friends. It’s the annual Village Halloween Parade. Yup.

STATEN STATUS Did you know that those little orange boats actu-ally dock somewhere that’s not the financial district? Well they do, and for good reason. Read this if you want to know, which you totally do.

BOROUGH PATROLQUEEN OF QUEENS What is the best ___ in Queens you ask? Well read up kiddie and be the smart one of your friends who knows without using Google.

71ANTIQUE LOCKDOWN: BROOKLYN For those who agree that shopping for old things is entirely fun and enlightening, look here for the latest update on antique and vintage stops.

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7720 EDITOR'S NOTEPELLEGRINO AND A SIDE OF FRIES Taking on what this beauti-ful time of year has to offer, our editiors explore the importance getting out and going. Do what you dream, dream what you do, and never be scared of a Pelligrino and a side of fries alone every once in a while.

BOYS OF THE BRONX I bet this headline confused you. It did, didn’t it. If this entire blip is confusing you that’s fine, just turn to page 80 and you’ll do fine.

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83 HOT SHOTGALLERY SCENE: CONNECTICUT Look at you, Mr./Ms. Fancy-Pants. We kid though, we love your high love for culture because we do too. If you’re tired of the NY art scene, treck up to these hot CT spots.

88 OWL CITYLAST NIGHT WAS ___ Here’s to those epic nights that lay behind us, and those before us. Nice, right? Here’s and update on all the hot stuff that went down and are going down.

FEATURED THINGS

THE UNDERGROUND We’re tired of the typical bar and club scene, so we found some cool under-ground places. No lie, they’re crazy hidden. They’re places Stefon from SNL would recommend, or not.

MAKE IT YOURSELF Drinks are expensive, we all know that. Some-times, it’s just not worth dressing up to go and pay for a drink, so here’s to skipping part one and making them yourselves. Cheers.

THE MAN AND HIS BLUE JACKET Get to know Bill Cunningham off the street as we sit down with the Lord de la Streetwear and discover the man behind the lens.

102SIMON SAYS As the youngest writer for SNL in it’s history, 27 year old Rich talks comedy, his novel, and Pixar. Try not to feel like a failure.

PARADE OF JOY This is a complete fill-in. I have no idea what other possibly features could be here so we’ll just say that this has to do with the Macy’s Day Parade because everyone loves that.

HERE COMES THE SUN Such a great song, isn’t it? It was just playing and it sounds like a good headline. We’ll say that this has to do with travelling. Yes. That.

STORY TIMEBLOG HAPPY It’s that time for you to show us what you’ve been doing. Let us know and share stories, you are your best storyteller after all.

125STORYGRAM ALBUM Lets be hon-est, this is basically Blog Happy, but with pictures, that have filters. But that’s ok, because some people don’t like to read and prefer pictures. We’re equal-opportunity here.

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FASHION’S NIGHT OUT It’s like shopping gone rogue. Well not really, but it’s a pretty hot event that takes place all over. Check out all the awesome deals, meet-and-greets, and free food. Yes, free.

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SOMETHING BORROWED I swear I had a brilliant idea when I came up with this title a while ago, but I honestly have no idea what that was. Here’s to your imagination.

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taking on what this beautiful time of year

has to offer, our editiors explore the

importance getting out and going. Do what

you dream, dream what you do,

and never be scared of a

Pelligrino and a side of

fries alone every once in

a while.FRIESpelligrino and a side of

I know, this headline does not make that much sense now, but it will. But if by the end of this little Editor’s Note you don’t

find yourself understanding fully what I am saying, that’s fine. Odds are I don’t quite know either.

To begin to explain my mad-ness, lets start with the magazine that you have open now and try to explain the reasoning of everything beyond this point. Storyteller is a magazine about travel and doing things, not a travel and doing things magazine. There’s a difference. When first coming up with the idea, I thought to myself, “What is a good idea?” (mythotical, I know). But seriously, I wanted to approach the general idea of the average travel and city magazine with a different mindset.

Storyteller is not simply about different things to do and where to go, which granted, I suppose it kinda is now that I think about ev-erything I have already done for it. I mean, it is the basic premise behind the idea. But this is getting off point (though if I am being honest, I have no idea what that point is at all. I am

truly hoping to fill space and by the time I get to the end, a point will be made).

It’s about the adventure and doing things fun with your life. No worries though, we’re not trying to peer pressure you into anything that you don’t want to do because that would be bullying, and that’s not good. Think of this magazine and the next so-and-so amount of pages that you will read (unless you actually read them all, in that case, you deserve our fondest apprecia-tion) as an outlook on life outside the chinese take-out and Woody Allen movie date on a Saturday. Not to judge, but we think it’s always the better option to make memories for yourself and to experience your awesome youth to the fullest.

So please, while you are reading or simply looking through the pic-tures, keep this in mind. You have one life so do it right. Enjoy it with the glass half full. Go out on a Tues-day, decide on a weekend getaway that Thursday. Sit out and enjoy the people passing by, and don’t be afraid to order a pelligrino and a side of fries every once in a while.

THe editor 's note. That 's all this is.

Caroline Amenabar, EIC

PHOTO:Tone above is from the CMJ

Music Marathon. It’s fun, you should go.

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/10/18/cmj-snapshot-from-

online-to-on-line-at-savages-show/This is the Boston Harbor.

http://dm.stagram.com/p/268937149430442743_4143401

family guide

This is NOT your

family guidefamily guide

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waterfront

old state house

newbury st.

brewery tour

Northend

fenway pahk

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fenway pahkAlright, fine, a New Yorkers first

place when stepping off the train is most likely not going to be the epicenter for everything us Yankees despise (you Mets too, I suppose), but here me out on this one. The history of this park, for one, is something a true lover of the game would appreciate. No need to sport the red or brave the front in pinstripes, just come in as a lover of the game and to take in all the history this place has to offer. From the “Green Monster”, to the beer, and the incredibly spirited fans, one can’t mistake the great culture and heart of the town of Boston. But, if the fans become too much for you just remember, there’s always the beer.

need an escape from the

concrete jungle? Hitch a

bus, train,or plane for you

classy folks to Boston for

a weekend. Granted, you don't

have to do any of the sug-

gested below, but it’s prob-

ably best that you do leave

that yankees shirt at home.

[You may continue this on page 49, but no pressure]28

BOSTONHold your lager in

WHat to do during the daylight hours

northendIn the narrow streets of Boston’s

Northend, be sure to check out bean-town’s version of the Italian neighbor-hood. From the Old North Church, Paul Revere’s House, this neighborhood is packed and stacked with history. But if the tours and instagraming get to be

too much for your travellers feet, be sure to hit up one of the authentic little italian restuarants. No worries, Ma won’t get upset about how much you liked their cooking, but it’s probably best to just leave that information out all together.

brewery tourWell, you certainly cannot visit

Boston without taking in one of the cities finest treasures, Samuel Adams. This is the one tour in the city that is not infested with croc-wearing families being only 21 & up for entry. The tour departs every 45 minutes and go on for about an hour. We advise that you arrive early for the tour to get your ticket. Be ready to drink the history learning how it’s made from beginning to end. Tours are free, but they suggest donations of about $2.00 that benefits local charities.

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newbury st.Before you decide against shop-

ping during your weekend away just remember this, you will. When you do, be sure to go down Newbury Street,

Boston’s answer to a shopping district. Close to Fenway Park, Newbury is filled with designer shops and boutiques just waiting upon your arrival. Enjoy spend-ing your time people watching at some of the great little spots to eat. Before you try to compare the shopping here to New York, first realize that nothing in the world compares, then go off your way acknowledging that this can still be a successful shopping excursion.

old state house

If you’re feeling a lack of his-tory in your trip, head to the Old State House, Boston’s oldest public building which is home to the first reading of the Declaration of Independence. This building stands out like that poor home in “The Little House”, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.

waterfrontHead down to the waterfront where

this city has been harboring ships for about 300 years. Also home to great food and instagramming moments.

B&G oysters ltd.

royale

middlesex

mr. dooley's

the black rose

blue man group

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when the nightlife comes out to play

top of the hub

blue man group

If you’ve never heard of the Blue Man Group before, it’s about time to rejoin the circle of social knowledge. It’s the avant-garde performance art that you wished your roommate pushed on you back in college. These performers take on music and comedy to create a visual and musical performance like no other. It’s high time that you make the effort to see them, or else.

top of the hubFor all those who prefer to spend

their evenings in a classy place, this is probably where you’d want to be. Serving brunch, lunch, dinner, and cocktails, the top of this 52 story place allows for you to take in the sights and tastes of the up-scale side of Boston. It’s one place that is neither a pub or (obvious) Sox pool. This high to heaven, it must be sanctuary.

b&g oysters ltd.Noted in The Boston Globe, Boston

Magazine, and Food & Wine for their cuisine and wine, B&G’s is definitely a place to hit for a cool atmosphere and good food. With it’s underground atmostphere and open kitchen, it’s the perfect spot to grab a bite when you want to feel like you know what you’re doing.

Sit down to the white-marble bar top and dive into some of Boston’s finest.

the black rose

Since 1976, Boston’s premier Irish Pub and Restaurant has been serving Ireland to their patrons. Located by Quincy Market, The Black Rose brings together everything good, which is beer. Serving up pints and live music 7 days a week, they consider themselves to ‘have all the elements of a neighbourhood pub back in the homeland’.

mr. dooley'sThis place is truly adorable. Really.

Mr. Dooley’s is a haven of straight talk down to earth Irish hospitality that is also known as “Dooley’s”. This place has one multiple awards for it’s food as well as recognition for it’s incredibly authentic Irish breakfast. If you want to be able to have a chat with your bartender, head down the financial district and make sure to end up at Dooley’s.

middlesexMiddlesex Lounge is a chic

and urban lounge that manages to somehow be unpretentiously vogue.

This place is simply cool. Step out to this hotspot in Cambridge and you’ll think you’re back in New York (well, almost). This is one of the trendiest chic spots in Boston and is certainly one to get to.

royaleIt’s an epic mega-center of live

music, DJs, and dancing. Once you’re threw with all those pints and nice din-ners, come out to Royale and let the real nightlife begin.

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<<<1That name hasn’t stopped new Jersey-based musician Seth Haley from reaching a huge audience with his electronic sound. Expect to hear plenty of tracks from the recent In Decay at this show.

Com Truise

GRAMERCY THEATER127 East 23rd StreetNew York, NY 10010

<<<

Expect punk, jazz, soul and a whole lot more from this three-piece band of singer-songwriters, who open up for Kimbra at Webster Hall tonight.

WEBSTER HALL123 East 11th StreetNew York, NY 10003

The stepkidsThe stepkids

GLORYhometown

THe cmj music marathon

has returned to the love-

ly nyu and brooklyn areas

for the 32nd year. that's

pretty good considering how

long of a period that is. this

is me trying to reinforce the

fact that you should go.

October 16-20 in brooklyn & manhattan[You may continue this on page 62, but no pressure]

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3 <<<electric guestelectric guestMondo by the multifaceted Los Angeles group Electric Guest has gained plenty of momentum this year, landing them a prime spot at CMJ for this show at Irving Plaza.

IRVING PLAZA17 Irving PlaceNew York, NY 10003

emma louiseemma Louise

<<<

The electro-infused folk pop of Australian singer Emma Louise is sure to make a splash at the multiple shows she is playing at CMJ, with this one set to close out the festival.

THE DELANCEY 168 Delancey StreetNew York, NY 10002

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Over five nonstop days and

nights, the world’s most impor-

tant platform for the discovery

of new music, CMJ Music Mara-

thon, invades New York City with

over 1,300 artist performances.

CMJ fills more than 80 of

the city’s greatest venues, and

nightclubs with over 120,000 fans,

music industry professionals, college

radio tastemakers, bloggers, press,

and musicians.

Attendees have access to over 80

panels, seminars, Q&As, nighttime parties,

meet and greets, mixers, special events and

exclusive areas like the Exhibitors’ Loft

and Artist Lounge.

CMJ 2012 will once again be head-

quartered at New York University’s Green-

wich Village campus, just steps away from

dozens of downtown Manhattan venues.

definition

4

CMJmusic marathon

2012

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-cmj-2011-day-one, http://w

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, http://ww

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Maria Minerva just dodged a robbery when we spoke to her ahead of this CMJ appear-ance. Let’s hope her set of quietly infectious art pop doesn’t incur such difficulties tonight at 92Y Tribeca.

92Y TIBECA 200 Hudson StreetNew York, NY 10023

maria minervamaria minerva

5 <<<theophilus londontheophilus londonBrooklyn rapper Theophilus London is famed for his Morrissey worship, although his music is so eclectic that he could spin off on multiple tangents at any moment. Expect the unexpected from him at this Windish Agency showcase.GRAMERCY THEATER 127 East 23rd StreetNew York, NY 10010

continued from page 57

2002 – Iron & Wine, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, James Murphy, The Used, Jason Mraz 2003 – Andrew WK, Killers, Jet, Against Me!, Mars Volta, My Chemical Romance, The Shins 2004 – Arcade Fire, Keane, The Bravery, The Decem-berists, Battles, Regina Spektor

2005 – Feist, Hot Chip, Wolfmother, Clap Your Hands

Say Yeah, We Are Scientists, Paramore

2006 – Justice, The Knife, Clipse, Cold War Kids, Girl Talk, Walkmen, Shooter Jennings, Secret Machines, Ra Ra Riot,

2007 – M.I.A., MGMT, Band of Horses, Bon Iver, Dan Deacon, Deerhunt-er, Yeasayer, Ghostland Observatory, Santigold 2008 – Lady Gaga, Passion Pit, Friendly Fires, B.O.B., Janelle Monae, Jay Reatard, Justin Townes Earle, Naked & Famous 2009 – Mumford & Sons, Sleigh Bells, Surfer Blood, Temper Trap, The Antlers, Atlas Sound, Lana Del Rey 2010 – Avicii, Dale Earnhart Jr Jr, Diamond Rings, Oberhofer, Big Freedia, Oh Land, US Royalty, First Aid Kit, Company of Thieves 2011 – Alabama Shakes, Gotye, Gary Clark Jr, Kendrick Lamar, ASAP Rocky, AraabMUZIK, Art Vs. Science, EMA, Givers, Zomby

past kids

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<<<doldrumsdoldrumsDoldrums’ electronic sounds are self-described as “music for staying up all night, just thinking,” which tired minds at CMJ will adapt to at this Ratking/PopGun showcase.

GRASSLANDS GALLERY 289 Kent AvenueNew York, NY 11211

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<<<

RüFüSRüFüSThose umlauts help differentiate RüFüS from other bands of the same name, but their mix of folk, deep house and math rock should leave no one in any doubt about what they sound like here.

THE DELANCEY 168 Delancey StreetNew York, NY 10002

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<<<

high highshigh highsJack Milas & Oli Chang fuse electronic and acoustic instruments as High Highs, making them beguiling openers at this second Windish showcase of the night at the Cameo Gallery.

CAMEO 93 North 6th Street

Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY 11211

mr. dreammr. dreamBrooklyn rock writers turned musicians Mr. Dream dance to the metallic grind of ’90s underground rock. Think Shellac meets God Bullies with a suitcase full of uppers.

THE PAPER BOX 17 Meadow StreetNew York, NY 11206

<<<8

Bill Cun ning hamthe legend behind the camera >> Story by Lauren Collins, The New Yorker

PHOTO:Bill Cunningham on

the streets in New York capturing another beauti-

ful moment that will no doubt be featured in his

weekly feature, On the Street, NY Times.

http://loveoffleeting.word-press.com/2012/08/22/

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A few summers ago, on upper Fifth Avenue, Bill Cun-ningham spied a remarkable creature: a woman, in her seventies, with a corona of blue hair—not the muzzy pastel hue associated with bad dye jobs but the irradiant one of Slurpees and laundry detergent. The woman gave Cunningham an idea. Every day for a month, whenever he saw something cerulean (a batik shawl) or aqua (a Hawaiian-print sarong) or azure (a Japanese parasol) coming down the

sidewalk, he snapped a picture of it. One morning, he spotted a worker balancing, on his shoulder, a stuffed blue marlin. “I thought, That’s it, kid!” he recently recalled. The following Sunday, “On the Street,” the street-fashion column that Cunningham has maintained in the Times for more than a decade, was populated entirely with New Yorkers dressed in various shades of the color—a parade of human paint chips. “Mediterranean shades of blue are not yet the new pink, but they are a favorite this summer,” he wrote. “The cooling watery tones, worn as an accent with white and browns, appear in turquoise-color jewelry and blue hair, but it is rare to see a man crossing the Avenue of the Americas with a trophy sailfish.”

For two groups of New Yorkers—the fashionable people, whose style changes more rapidly than that of the masses, and the truly creative ones, whose style, while outré, in its theatricality never really changes at all—“On the Street” is also a family album. The magazine editors Anna Wintour, Ce-cilia Dean, and Carine Roitfeld and the society dermatologist Lisa Airan are regulars on the page, as are Tziporah Salamon (her Web site showcases her eight appearances in Cunningham’s column, including one—a Capri-pants montage—in which only her legs are visible), and Louise Doktor, a midtown executive secretary, whose experimental outfits Cunningham has been documenting from afar for twenty-five years. “She once bought a coat with four sleeves!” he told me. At a party thrown last season at Bergdorf Good-man to celebrate the decoration of the store’s windows in Cunningham’s

honor, guests included not only the police commissioner, Ray Kelly, and Arthur Sulzberger, Jr., the publisher of

the Times (“You’re great! This is a really big thing,” he said, grabbing Cunningham, who had shown up at his behest, by the shoulders), but a woman wearing,

on her head, what looked like one of those blue pompoms from a car wash, and a man with a Swiss-dot veil drawn in

ink on his forehead.Cunningham, who turns eighty this month, is an annual

presence at certain society events: the Fifth Avenue Easter Parade, the Central Park Conservancy luncheon, the

Hampton Classic Horse Show. This winter, at the ice-skating rink in Central Park, he took pictures of the children of the children whose parents he once shot outside Maxim’s and at the Hotel Pierre

(where, at a dinner dance in 1984, he captured thirty-three women in similar Fabrice beaded gowns). His vocabulary (“Cheers, child!”) and

his diction (“Mrs. Oh-nah-sis”) are those of a more genteel era—the weekly audio slideshow he does for the Times offers many of the pleasures

of a Lomax recording—but he rarely goes for the easy grip-and-grin shot. His sensibility is exhila-

ratingly democratic. He takes wonder, or whimsy, where he finds it, chronicling the Obama Inaugura-

tion, the Puerto Rican Day Parade, Wigstock, and the snowman sweatshirts and reindeer turtlenecks of tourists; the do-rag and the way that, at one point in 2000, many

young hip-hop fans spontaneously took to wearing their 104

[You may continue this on page 108, but no pressure]

courtesy of the ny times

sweatshirts abstractly, with the neck hole on the shoulder, or with the sleeves dangling down the back. (He related the phenomenon to both the Japanese deconstructionists and the sideways baseball cap.)

The four corners of Fifth Avenue and Fifty-seventh Street are some of Cun-ningham’s favorite shoals. One bright afternoon, he was there, as he has been for countless hours, casting about for inspiration. “I have an idea what I’m going to do this week,” he said. (What that was he refused to say.) “I’ve got to face the bullet very quickly. If it doesn’t have enough depth, I should wait.” It was a crackerjack day. “Look at the style you have here!” Cunningham said. “Stay here on Fifth Avenue and you see the whole world. Summertime—the vacationers and the Europeans. The holidays—everyone from the Midwest, the West, Japan. They’re all here, the whole world!”

Cunningham lives alone in the Carnegie Hall Tower, one of the last tenants in a formerly vast complex of artists’ studios, without a private bathroom or cooking facilities. His bed consists of a piece of foam, a wooden board, and several milk crates. Nearby is a metal file cabinet crammed with decades’ worth of nega-tives. (Trip Gabriel, the editor of the Times’ Sunday Styles section, where Cunningham’s column appears, told me that when Cunning-ham goes to the Paris collections “our reporters are staying right in the First Arrondissement, sometimes at the Ritz, and Bill insists on stay-ing at a cheapo hotel that has no phones in the rooms.” To make a reservation, he sends a post-card.) “When I fall out of bed in the morning, I can come over here and get up my adrenaline,” Cunningham said, blowing his nose into a deli napkin that he produced from a pocket of the blue workman’s smock that he customarily wears, as if to say, in solidarity with the hot-dog venders and delivery boys amid whom he spends his days, that his office is the street. Around his neck was a battered Nikon. Its strap was held together with duct tape. Cunningham has often been described as a fashion monk, but he is closer to an oblate—a layperson who has dedicated his life to the tribe without becoming a part of it. A friend of Cunningham’s told Artforum in 1996, “One of Bill’s favorite sayings, when anyone starts taking the fashion scene too seriously, is ‘Oops, you’re falling into the traps of the rich.’ ” In a recent column, examining the way New Yorkers dress for wet weather, Cunning-ham poked fun at “the snobs,” who “are so above it all, they think the waters will part for them even as they sink to their ankles.”

Behind Cunningham, the windows of Bergdorf ’s were festooned with blow-ups of his columns. Linda Fargo, the store’s vice-president of visual merchandis-ing, said it had taken ten years to persuade Cunningham to agree to the exhibit. “Bill is not somebody you can ever press yourself on,” Fargo said. “I once, to thank him for something, gave him a very small box of chocolates, and he personally delivered it back to my office two days later.” In one of the windows, there was a red bicycle with silver fenders, in tribute to his customary means of conveyance. There was confetti made from shredded newspapers. “I’m delighted, but also a little embarrassed, because you try to be invisible, and this blows your cover!” Cunningham said, hoisting the Nikon to his eye and darting off, mid-sentence, in pursuit of a woman with a fetching fur-lined handbag.

“Luckily, you can slip back into being anonymous very quickly,” he continued, once he’d returned. “I don’t really see people—I see clothes. People say every-body’s a slob. Ridiculous! There are marvellously”—it came out, in a wonderful archaic honk, as “maah-vah-lously”—“dressed women you see at a quarter to

a woman, in her seventies, with

a corona of blue hair—not the

muzzy pastel hue associated with bad dye jobs but the irradiant one of Slurpees and laundry deter-

gent. The woman gave Cunningham

an idea.

PHOTO:Working the streets

of Paris during Fashion Week.

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“I’m writing with pictures—

that’s what I always tell them.”

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eight, going to business. When people say fashion is no more, they’re ridiculous! It’s as good as it ever was.”

I asked if he ever photographed people who didn’t look so great, the sidewalk’s blooper reel. He seemed almost offended. “I’m not drawn to something awful,” he said. “I wouldn’t even see that. I’m looking for something that has beauty. Do’s and don’ts? I don’t think there are any don’ts! What right does one have? It’s like the Queen of England, when she appears, and people have nasty things to say. My God, she’s dressing for her station and her office!”

A burly man dressed in a flannel shirt and steel-toed boots approached. “Hi! I’d like to shake the hand of the kid!” he said, boomingly, offering his palm to Cunningham, who smiled. The two men began shadowboxing.

“Congrats, Billy. Can’t believe they even got a bicycle in the window!”

The man headed off down the sidewalk, and, as he faded from view, I asked who he was.

“You get to know people,” Cunningham said, explaining that it was an undercover cop.

Cunningham was born and brought up in Boston, the second of four children in an Irish Catholic family. There remains about him a distinct New Englishness. “One of our colleagues says that his voice sounds like that of an elderly hardware-store owner in Vermont,” Trip Gabriel said. At the Times, Cunningham doesn’t use a computer; he recently got a desk, and voice mail, which he has never checked. The paper got rid of its film-processing lab a few years ago, when it went digital, so Cunningham has his film developed at a one-hour photo center, on Forty-third Street. Each week, he brings a batch of his negatives to the office, where a member of the art department helps him create a layout. “He has browbeaten and exhausted and worn out the patience of generations of assistants in that process,” Gabriel said, with affection.

“It was difficult around the turn of this century,” Cun-ningham said, “because I had older art directors and they had other ideas of how things should be laid out. No one could stand me. Too much trouble! Five pictures, and that’s it. I said, ‘You can’t do that. You’ve got to tell a story to the reader.’ I’m writing with pictures—that’s what I always tell them. You go and tell Maureen Dowd she can only use fifteen words, and no changes. That’s ridiculous!” He continued, “Young kids, aren’t they wonderful? Not because I push them around—I would never do that—but because they’re more open to new thought.”

During the Korean War, Cunningham was drafted into the Army; when he returned to New York he resumed the hat trade from a shop on West Fifty-fourth Street. In 1963, John Fairchild hired him as a writer at Women’s Wear Daily. (Eventually, he went on to cover fashion for the Chicago Tri-bune and for Details.) For a time in the late fifties, he owned a hat shop on Jobs Lane, in Southampton. He is said to have slept on a cot, hanging his wardrobe—khakis, a shirt, a pair of underwear—over the closet door. In 1966, a photographer Cunningham knew gave him an Olympus Pen D half-frame camera. “It cost about thirty-five dollars,” Cunningham wrote. “He said, ‘Here, use it like a notebook.’ And that was the real beginning.”

The best ensembles Cunningham ever saw were in the sixties. “I was at a fashion show on Seventh Avenue one day, and I heard commotion out on the street,” he said. “I said, ‘Huh, what’s that?’ and got up and left the show and

saw all these flower children protesting the Vietnam War. I suddenly realized that I had always liked the street. I should have known all along.” Other scenes that have stuck with him: the “incredible things” from “those marvellous concerts in Tompkins Square Park”; a woman, walking up Madison Avenue, in a beige-and-black knitted suit from Sonia Rykiel, accompanied by two beige-and-black pug dogs on Venetian-red leashes with gold bells.

Cunningham stepped up to one of the Bergdorf windows and peered at the exhibit inside. “Oh, this is a Doktor,” he said, referring to a shot of Mrs. Doktor, the secretary, with the hushed reverence accorded a Renoir or a van Gogh, as if she, not he, were the artist. “One of the most fascinating. That’s a wooden gold picture frame that she’s wearing as a necklace. I got up close, and saw that it had been cut and it was on hing-es, so that it conformed to her body.” A few seconds earlier, a young Japanese woman had pressed her nose to the glass. “See, that’s a Margiela sweater,” Cunningham said, indicating what appeared to be a few stray white yarns on the back of the woman’s cardigan. “It’s his label. He just uses stitches.”

Cunningham is as attuned to the bourgeois as he is to the avant-garde, and the mundane accessories of day-to-day life are as exalted in his photographs as any platform shoe or deconstructed bustle. Balaclavas, shown in collage, hint at the martial aspect of New York street life. An umbrella, flipped inside out by the wind, becomes an abstract sculpture; a snow poncho, wrapped around its wearer’s head, is a plastic exoskeleton that will eventually be shed. He is drawn to any-thing natural: children, gardens, parks, animals. (His column has featured a parrot, a duck, a python, a monkey, a tortoise, and many dogs; not long ago, he took a train all the way back to Long Island when he realized that some black irises he had just seen at Old Westbury Gardens perfectly echoed the filigreed lines of both a 1900 cut-velvet Worth gown and some nearby wrought-iron gates.) He has a thing for curbside puddles. “It’s a little ridiculous, but a fierce snowstorm is wonderful!” he said. “Oh, it’s marvellous—it just rearranges the whole fashion scene when the wind blows down from the top of the Avenue. Six-, seven-hundred-dollar shoes, and they’re all in the slush—hey, it’s pretty peculiar!” He went on, “Nothing like a good blizzard, kid, and you got pictures!”

Among the sort of people who know they are wearing noteworthy outfits it is considered poor form—and, more-over, bad luck—to acknowledge that Cunningham is taking one’s picture, to blow his pose of invisibility. “If you see him, proper etiquette is just be yourself, but keep moving forward,” Linda Fargo said. For a civilian, though, opening the Sunday paper and finding that the way she looked, on the way to a dental appointment, or to the grocery store, was pleasing to Cunningham can be a thrilling experience, like opening the mailbox to find a love letter from a suitor she didn’t know existed.

“I’m so excited that my picture is in here!” a woman exclaimed, in front of the Bergdorf windows, pointing to an almost unintelligible figure in one of the blown-up columns. “You made my life. I’m in the pink earmuffs—I just wish I had looked better.”

Cunningham nodded politely, but said little. As soon as he could, he scampered off down the sidewalk to snap a picture of a matron, on her husband’s elbow, in a yellow-and-black checkerboard suit.

This one kid, from Brooklyn.

Story by Esther Zuckerman,

The New York Observer

110

At the local grocery shop, Rich grabs his go to snack of sardines. Can’t tell if the joke is on us or himself.

At 26 27, Simon Rich has graduated from Harvard University, written a novel, and became the second youngest writer in the history

of Saturday Night Live.

Try not to feel bad about yourself.

X

“I still walk closer to the curb because I’m sure that’s going to hap-pen,” the 26-year-old novelist SNL writer said over iced coffee last week.

For Mr. Rich, whose writing is often inflected with an impending sense of doom — God makes completely irrational decisions, Dracula poses as the Red Cross — New York has always been a scary place. In his own assess-ment, living here has instilled an intensely neurotic style in all his writing.

“Just the sheer population makes it a scary place and with a city this packed with people there are sure to be a few murderers on your block,” Mr. Rich deadpanned.

John Mulaney, an SNL writer with whom Mr. Rich writes frequently, said that these jokes are typical of Mr. Rich.

“I think nothing makes him laugh more than freaking out and panick-ing,” Mr. Mulaney said.

Mr. Rich’s illustrious origins are well documented. His father is Frank Rich, the Times columnist, and his brother Nathaniel is an editor at The Paris Review. His first book of jokes came out mere months after graduating Harvard — he has since published a second humor book — and he’s working on the screenplay for his recently optoioned novel Elliot Allagash, which was published in May. News of the film deal provoked an angry rant on Gawker, but Mr. Rich said he has “sympathy and respect” for his haters.

“I think that’s not even the biggest travesty,” he said of his perceived nepotism. “The biggest travesty is that anybody gets to write jokes for a living. It’s a ridiculous profession and I feel like it should probably be against the law for everyone not just the children of successful jour-nalists.”

When Mr. Rich walked into the Brooklyn Heights restaurant where we met him, he could have been mistaken for a student on the way home from school, wearing a loose red polo shirt and carrying a backpack. Later on, three children began to make faces at him through the restaurant’s window.

“Hey kids!” he said smiling at them, admiring a small black toy car-ried by one of them. “I feel like toys are cooler now.”

Youth has been a fertile source of material for Mr. Rich. Elliot Al-lagash is set at a fictional New York private school not unlike Mr. Rich’s alma mater Dalton, and SNL cast member Bill Hader, 32, pointed out that if an SNL sketch ever involves a fairytale, Mr. Rich had a hand in it.

For the record, the school in the book is not Dalton. “I thought it would be more Dalton-y but it’s not,” said one of Mr. Rich’s former teachers.

“I always write out of a sense of fear and doom,” Mr. Rich said. Obvi-ously New York provides him with ample material there, as does being

When Simon Rich was growing up and around the streets of New York he was always afraid of an air conditioner falling on his head

X

Jewish and reading about God’s smiting in the Torah when he was younger. “The Old Testament God is just a hilarious comedy character,” he said.

WHENEVER MR. HADER visits Brooklyn Heights Mr. Rich gives him and his wife the “hard pitch” on the neighborhood.

“[He] takes us on a long walk and… knows the all the little interest-ing anecdotes about each building like, ‘that’s where Norman Mailer wrote whatever book,’ ‘that’s where Truman Capote wrote Breakfast at Tiffany‘s. He lived on the garden level,’” Mr. Hader said.

Mr. Rich does most of his writing in his own Brooklyn Heights apart-ment, by the window. He and Mr. Hader worked on their horror comedy screenplay for Judd Apatow in that apartment. When Mr. Rich and Mr. Hader write they take breaks at the local deli Lassen & Hennigs where Mr. Rich orders a Knickerbocker — a sandwich with fried chicken, bacon, cheddar and mayo on a buttered roll — which he said he eats about three times a week. SNL head writer Seth Meyers said via email that watching Mr. Rich wait for his sandwich at the Second Avenue Deli on rewrite day is a “true joy.”

Mr. Rich is aware that he draws on his unique angle on New York in his novel.

“It’s certainly not McInerney’s or Bret Easton Ellis’ New York,” he said. “It’s more about the idea of New York.” In this way, he thinks Elliot Allagash‘s New York is like the London of P.G. Wodehouse, or Arthur Conan Doyle.

Simon is “fairly fanatical about the city, its history, its lore,” ac-cording to his father, who told us that his sons’ recommendations for New York reading have led him to books he may not have otherwise discovered.

Simon’s brother Nathaniel wrote: “All three of us are obsessed with New York lore, with the city in previous eras, its forgotten and hidden aspects, its purest expressions of urban insanity. But we share other obsessions too: hot sauces, the Mets, Sichuan food.”

Comedy was one of Simon’s personal obsessions. As a kid, he would around 30 Rockefeller Plaza, now his work place, to catch glimpses of the Late Night with Conan O’Brien writers and would pass by the Your Show of Shows writers’ room near Carnegie Hall just to marvel at the “holy moly” — his words — quality of it.

Now, though, Mr. Rich seems content with the “holy moly” of Brooklyn Heights.

“There’s a plaque on a brownstone near here that claims that the curveball was invented in Brooklyn Heights,” Mr. Rich told us. “Like, the pitch. And that alone is reason enough to live in this neighborhood.”

“He was probably burned for being a warlock,” he added, referring to the inventor. “What a terrifying thing to make a ball curve.”