I always get cheered up when I see a mattress on the floor. It probably started that day in 1961 when our old neighbor from Chicago, Peggy, was sitting next to a big plant on the terrace of a penthouse on top of a white building in the Village. My parents had brought me to New York for a visit. Peggy had just moved here with her husband, who was in the music business, and she was wearing black capri pants and a white shirt tied at the waist. My mother always said,... More >>>
By photo: Fred W. McDarrah
"A far cry from my Mother's Italian provincial furniture"