By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Though we meet in front of the pristine Urban Outfitters on the corner of Sixth and 14th, Jacobs is less than entranced by its glittery newness. "We need to go to City Streets," he tells me. "That's where I get my Platinum Fubuit's always on sale. Oh, and we need to find the place I bought my tuxedo shirt, which might just be my favorite 14th Street thing ever." So we set off in the direction of Seventh Avenue, pausing at one of those unnamed perfume-baseball cap-watch stands so Jacobs can check the price of Drakkar Noir cologne, which he says is "you know, something everyone wore in junior high," and is currently one of his numerous obsessions.
The guy in the stall at 100 West 14th Street has Drakkar for $20"Special price now! Today!"and though Jacobs allows that this is $7 less than at Macy's, he is soon distracted by other interesting stuff, including fake gold $19.99 rhinestone-studded Rough Rider and Cash Money medallions crafted to appear hefty, but in truth fooling no one. At E&L Sportswear (102 West 14th), excitement is generated by a stack of $19.95 stonewashed jeans that have ragged denim strips lacing up their legs. "I have my fingers crossed for relaxed fit," Jacobs says, though he betrays only scant disappointment when he unfolds a pair. "No, they're taperedbut that's nice too. And don't you love that the label says Zana-di?"
Three minutes later we're in front of Big Discount Store (110 West 14th), a classic 14th Street institution with increasingly hard-to-find Jesus tapestries and bins full of dusty underwear. Jacobs takes one look and says, "This is my favorite! Blooper brand irregular T-shirtslove that. Two for $1.99. And these, love these," he adds, fingering a pair of $2.99 sweatpants made of weird thick polyester and printed to look like a combination of a ruined tablecloth and a Rauschenberg. Deep inside the store, Jacobs halts before a trough of shirts and declares, "This is the thing I love. I actually own this thing." It's the tuxedo shirt, complete with studs and a skinny bow tie, and it has a label that reads Galaxy, which Jacobs thinks sounds like one of those clothing companies credited at the end of Wheel of Fortune. It's $4.99, but seeing us linger, someone behind the counter yells out, "You pay cash, we give a discount."
Jacobs is really on a roll now. Though it's 85 degrees out, he is captivated by a $1.99 "Tis the Season" sweatshirt featuring six gamboling kittens and a Christmas tree. "I love seasonal merchandise," he sighs, explaining why a similar item, featuring a dressed-up cat, rabbit, and bear and with the legend "Life is a patchwork of friends," just doesn't do it for him.
I point with enthusiasm to the fake Gucci Gilligan's Island hats outside a place with the captivating name Luciano by Jr (112 West 14th), but Jacobs says gently that he thinks ersatz Gucci hats are maybe just a little bit tired. Instead he nudges me in the direction of a $45 black wall plaque featuring a Lamborghini along with a clock and enhanced with so many flashing colored lights it needs batteries and electricity to run.
At City Streets (114 West 14th), there's plenty of Platinum Fubu, and it's certainly on sale, but it's not particularly floating Jacobs's boat for some reason. "I own this piece of clothing," he says of a pair of outsized jeans decorated with a likeness of the Black Hornet. He seems slightly embarrassed. "If I had to do it over, I'd do just Fat Albert." The jeans are $30 instead of $100, but Jacobs shakes his head and says, "I don't know how excited I am about these pants anymore. You know what I like much better? Girbaud shirts!" City Streets is vast, with an old gray industrial staircase off to one side that makes Jacobs kind of sad. "You know what I hate about that staircase? It holds so much promise, but it doesn't go anywhere."
We double back across Sixth Avenue, and enter Vinocur (60 West 14th) a furniture store that Jacobs and I have visited on a previous occasion, when it had him practically frothing at the mouth with excitement. Today, the lacquer Buddhas and cartoonish deco bedroom sets don't seem to be setting off a similar euphoria, though he does nod approvingly in the direction of a $99 metal lamp with two egg-shaped lights that he calls "very Murray Moss" after the proprietor of Moss, the influential Soho design shop. In front of a Lucite bar that has a built-in Lucite wine rack and comes complete with two Lucite bar stools, he cracks a smile. "I like this better than the lamp. I don't like the lamp anymore." The price for this item, stools included, is a steep $1989, but according to Jacobs, this is a felicitous coincidence. "Nineteen eighty-nineyou couldn't say it any better! Everyone's excited about late '80s-early '90s style right now."