This column is not many things. It’s not Walter Winchell. It’s not about sports. It’s not Herb Caen. And it’s not about fashion.
Last week was about COVID, life and death. This week is about COVID and haute couture. If you were to catch a peek at my closet in the outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior, you’d find one pair of corduroys and two bowling shirts and quickly conclude that I am fashion free. The last time I attempted to dress in style, I dragged Nurse Vivian to the Green Acres Mall so she could buy me a Nehru jacket and bell bottoms, the week after the Beatles stopped wearing them.… Read More