Oh, for the days of dust tinged streams of light in large public works. These “hark, the herald angels sing!” photos were taken at Grand Central Station in 1941 — before the surrounding buildings blocked out the natural light. Sad!
[Via Lost. Photos by John Collier Jr.]
Every time I meander through the Lower East Side I make a point to go past Freemans. They’ve mastered the concept of the “lifestyle” establishment: they’re an old fashioned barbershop, a men’s clothing atelier that makes suits to order as Freemans Sporting Club, and a taxidermy-filled “rugged clandestine American tavern” (that actually feels very Bavarian, to me), all at the end of the ancient Freeman’s Alley (yep, it’s actually down a cobble stone alley; how perfect is that?).
And I must add that the food is freaking delicious: catfish, jalapeno cheddar grits, oysters (and those are just today’s specials!), and the best cocktails you’ll ever down. I’ve yet to purchase a pantsuit or require that my neck be shaved, but if I ever feel the need, I know that I’ll hit up all available Freemans establishments. Now if they only had an old timey women’s clothing shop filled with tailored 1930s style suits and vintage high waisted Levis: then we’d be in business….
And a note: I never actually want a clean shaven men. Beards make my world go ’round! However, I do love Olive Oyl and Popeye. Enjoy “Clean Shaven Man.”
