MOLI VIEW™

A TURTLENECK OF TAMPONS couldn't have absorbed the anticipatory drool I experienced prior to visiting Cisco's second hand shops. The pain of the missed plane was fading faster than a Hollywood Tan, as I imagined all the cool-ass shit I was going to score. Two-a-penny Pucci's; Prada-by-the-pound; enough Ralph to make you ralph, enough Gucci to fill your cucci…so much cool crap to digest, I imagined shitting Baleniciaga bags for a week—-and lovin' it! See, here in NYC, there is no such thing as second-hand anymore, no matter how many pee-stained hands have handled it. Even the Salvation Army has a "stylist" on the team, who puts anything worth anything (i.e. the garment doesn't have brownish skid-marks or is from the Jacquiline Smith K-Mart collection) in the newly defined "Vintage" section. It's enough to make you want to wear ready-to-wear. And, don't get me wrong, it's not like I really wanted to wear this designer crap—"as is", that is…But if you're into destruction-reconstruction scene, it's best to start out with something good ( and by "good", I'm speaking more about good "raw" material than "good design").



In any event, no such luck. My first trip into trash, with my boy Kris (a great local designer, "Industry of Revolution", and all-around awesome guy) found us in the Good Will late Saturday night trying to sweet-talk some crazy KGB-bitch into letting us buy the incredibly over-priced electric guitar we intended to smash into a dress on stage the following day. However, she wasn't having it. Granted, we didn't bring vodka or hand-cuffs, but we did bring CASH$$. Anyway, we had to fuck around for an hour while she decided if we were worthy of this piece of shit…but, in the end we sort of scored, thanks to various mind-fuck devices I learned during my tenure at the CIA or watching the Bourne Identity—-I get confused sometimes.

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