Once upon a time, many years ago, I attempted to sell vintage clothes at a now-defunct market in the schoolyard on Greenwich Avenue. I remember a very hot, very sad afternoon with my poor old rags hanging limply from the fence behind me—I didn't want them, and apparently neither did anyone else. Finally it started to rain, and I stuffed my merchandise into a red duffel and went home. When I unpacked, I saw that the bag had run all over the clothes, leaving bloody streaks on my faded Trixie Norton swing coats and moth-eaten... More >>>