Fly Boy and Odd Twin

     Odd Twin was chillin' on the corner of 5th and Degraw when Fly Kid From Brooklyn swung by. "Yo Ma, waddup?" Fly Kid sang, "That's a nice skirt you're wearin'...very 1950's...wanna go dancin' with me?" Odd Twin wasn't trying to be rude, she just hadn't noticed Fly Kid. She was too busy looking through a vintage Playboy article entitled:
"Horsing Them in with Hemingway". She loved the way the 1965 Playboy issue seemed so classy. She longed to be one of those women in the ads who say things like "The only trouble with a lounging outfit like this is that I hardly ever get a chance to lounge in it." Fly Kid looked away. He just wasn't sixties enough for her. He knew, he knew deep down that with his 1980's b-boy sunglasses and his gold name-plated earrings, they would never work. Finally, Odd Twin looked up. "Oh, hey Fly Kid from Brooklyn! Nice sneaks...I like your lightning laces..." Fly Kid's frown lilted up into a smile. Maybe, just maybe, if he grew out a thin mustache, slapped on a tie-clip and a pair of tight faded Levi's they could walk hand in hand through a Playboy paradise. Just then, Odd Twin's fake eyelash blew away in the breeze and she batted a green eye Fly Boy's way. Oh Thursday's in Brooklyn were simply their favorite days.

Oh Daddy, Get Real!

Matt and Clara stopped in today for some wingtips...Here's what happened:

"Daddy you have twelve pairs of shoes that look exactly like that!" Clara exclaimed. She had just finished a hectic full day of second grade. She flashed a pair of sparkly blue leggings, a pleated skirt and a jean vest over her smart t-shirt. Looking like a young Debbie Harry, she meant business.



"Clara," her father Matt said, "I know I have these shoes, but they are not THESE shoes. THESE shoes are brown, while the other twelve I have are black, white, black and white...I have shoes that are similar to these but...but...but...

Matt knew shoes. He knew vintage. He was a man with a mission.

How would he swing it? Clara would surely tell her mother...He knew! He would try and talk down the price.
"Clara" Matt said, "How much is a good price for me to be able to buy these shoes?"
"A dollar Daddy, now let's go!"
The salesgirls chuckled. Matt hung his head low.
"I'll be back when she's in school," he whispered, "they're mine, understand? All mine! They've always been mine!"
As he left the store, Bruce, the tall elegant mannequin winked and whispered "No lovely, they're actually mine"

He hi-fived Clara and they hummed the tune to "One Way or Another".

Thursday At Odd Twin

     It was a rainy day at Odd Twin when Deaf Dave decided to drop in for a visit:

"Good Morning Dave!" shouted Courtney from the step-ladder. She was dusting the merchandise again, trying to get her mind off of the stalker who had been staring at her from across the street. Cleaning would certainly do the trick!
"Why doesn't anybody ever say hi to me when I come in! For cryin' out loud!" Dave put his umbrella down in a huff.
"I just said hi Dave," Courtney said.
"I'm not lookin' for a tie! I need a dress."
Courtney stopped dusting and looked up.
"Oh, heh, well, it's not for me, it's for my granddaughter. She's goin' to the prom and she wants something from the 1930's"
"Oh sure Dave, I can help you with that. What size?"
"For Christ's sake Courtney! I don't need any ties, I need a dress ya hear? A DRESS!" Dave had started to perspire under his lip.
        
       Courtney hurried to the back of the store where the finest merchandise was hung behind a red-velvet ribbon with a sign that read "please ask for assistance". These dresses were magical, she thought. They had all been worn at proms before and their magic fabric was sure to rub Dave's granddaughter the right way.
Also, the stalker was now at the front window and she thought she should make herself scarce.

"Here you are Dave...these dresses are amazing. Here's one that looks like Zelda Fitzgerald would have worn it. It's cut on the bias and has a silky pink fabric. It's a real flapper number."

"Heh?" Dave did not hear very well. He was also staring above Courtney's head at the silky bra's and slips hanging from a sailor cap. Dave had been a sailor in his day and his eyes glistened looking at the display.

The stalker had entered the store and was standing next to Dave.

"Hi Courtney" he said.
"Hi stalker man" Courtney replied in a friendly tone.
"I love you" the stalker was grinning.
"That's great." Courtney said "but I'm helping a customer right now. Do you need help with anything?"
The stalker, embarrassed, turned away and left the store in a rush knocking over Helga, the Russian mannequin. Helga's fabulous 80's skirt flew over her head exposing her plastic crotch which had been repaired with black electrical tape.
"Helga, nooooooo!" It was Dave, he ran to Helga and embraced her. He had put on one of the sailor hats from the display and was living out a twisted fantasy at the front of the store.
"So, should I wrap this for ya Dave?" Courtney asked.
"I'll take the dress Courtney, and I'll take a damn tie." Tears filled his eyes. "Courtney, is...is....is Helga for sale? It's just that, I think she's hurt and....uh..."
"Now Dave, we've been through this before. Helga is not for sale. Will that be cash or charge?"