SoHo What Happened?

I can't really afford a lot of the stuff they are hawking on those half-mean streets of Soho. I mean, I can...but as I always tell my husband when looking at a price tag of something I want that is in the thousands, "I'd rather go to Greece."

I bought new glasses down there on Greene/Spring. And so, I go once a week, at least the first two weeks now, to get them adjusted. They are progressives. I don't really need them, but I sort of do if I want to keep the things on if I look down at a magazine or book to read. They are good out in the world. These secret granny glasses.

I remember being young in Soho. When it was cheap and about art. I had this short lived fling with an NBC exec/worker bee who slaved at SNL. It was all about him doing lots of coke and sweating all over me in bed in his lofty loft. I did not exactly understand what he did for SNL. I think it was a highly stressful coordinator position. He did do some serious star handling. He was probably the talent coordinator. He was a mess. I knew it was going to be short lived. This guy was a bit older than me, ten years?,  had trouble dating or being liked because of his excessive coke use and his profuse sweating, and was, overall, a bit grimy and repellent, but also tall. He was pretty disgusting, but at that age, I figured, if I have to fuck a little someone who is not so appealing but could get me into a good party or meeting, well sure. That's what young people do. It has worked out well for many a youth.

He took me to a taping one Saturday night that Matthew Broderick hosted. After the show, at a table in one of the restaurant things that are all connected around the ice rink, my overly energetic coke-date introduced me to Matthew. It was hard to talk because of the noise level and I was shy and at the opposite side of the round table and all I could get myself to really say to him, via my date--who passed it along amid the hubbub since he was sitting closer to him--was that I was kind of jealous him. And Matthew told my date to say back to me, "Well, you're younger than me. You can catch up."

There really was no need.

That was very generous of M.B. And whenever I go to Soho, I think of that sweaty coke fiend and his loft and NBC and what I thought it all meant. And whenever I walk by "The Rock", I think of how Matthew Broderick talked to me, by coke-fiend proxy, and was very kind.

I was thin and wore contact lenses then.

Now, I continue to go to Soho to get these glasses adjusted, these dang seamless trifocals.  I look at the big ugly Adidas store on Wooster and I wonder if the end is near. Nah, it's here. The end is here. Clearly, nothing new is going to happen on Wooster or Greene. Maybe more high-end furniture and eye-wear boits... Maybe even those could completely fall apart. Feels like the vendors are not that easy going. Can you imagine the rents?

Nasty town. Nasty, overpriced, uninteresting situation.

But when the ocean rolls in and takes over up to about 29th Street, well, we won't have to worry about any of it any longer.

Before then, I might end up buying some chairs. If I do, it just means I'll have to wait a little longer before I ever get my first glimpse of Mykonos.