Geri and her new old Gucci ring
The first time I noticed Olivia Garay’s makeshift “shop” on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, I did a double take. Crammed into a few glass display cases, right out on the sidewalk, were gorgeous vintage bracelets, belts, necklaces, brooches and rings from Hermes, Chanel, Gucci, Tiffany, Cartier, Judith Jack and more. Joining other shoppers to peer into the cases like a little kid peeking at a candy store display, I tried on at least half a dozen pieces and bought a Bakelite bracelet from the fifties.
FOF Olivia told me she hit the streets almost 20 years ago, when the rent on her store was becoming unreasonable. “I was having a harder and harder time making a decent living, so I closed the shop, got a vendor permit and I was in business.
Besides her reasonable prices (thanks to low overhead), Olivia lets customers exchange their purchases any time. “Just keep it in good shape,” she told me when I bought a Gucci silver ring designed by Tom Ford. I’m not a label lover, but I loved the two Gs facing each other, since my maiden name was Geri Goldberg. You can also bring Olivia vintage pieces you didn’t buy from her, as a shopper next to me was doing. “If I don’t wear something for five years, I retire it,” the woman said.
The Gucci ring costs $250 (“new Gucci silver rings are $400″ Olivia said), but it’s entirely possible to plop down thousands at her vintage paradise. She’s stationed at the NW corner of 70th Street and Third Avenue during the afternoons, whenever the weather is nice, expect when she’s at antique shows. If you’re coming to visit New York, make sure to include her “shop” on your must-see list.
FOFs have such entrepreneurial spirits, drive and creativity. Not to mention great taste in jewelry.
*P.S. Olivia told me that if you mention Fab Over Fifty to her, she’ll give you 15 percent off your purchase. You can call her at 917-584-7171 to check if she’ll be in town when you are.
We should name Joan Rivers the official spokeswoman for FOF. Now, before you start to make faces and tell me I’m nuts, go to see the documentary about her, “A Piece of Work.” If you don’t walk out wanting to be Joan’s new best friend, I’d be dumbfounded. Simone, my 28-year-old daughter, texted me after we saw the movie, “I’m obsessed with Joan Rivers. I wish she was my grandma.”
I blogged about Joan a few weeks ago, after I read an article about her in New York Magazine, but I’m loving her even more now. At 75, she’s got the stamina, the energy and the drive of women half her age. She’ll tell her manager to book her in Minneapolis in the dead of winter if that’s what it takes to work. She’s a loyal friend, profoundly dedicated mother and a great boss.
One of the most revealing scenes in the movie takes place while she’s performing in mid America. When she tells a joke about Helen Keller, a man in the audience starts berating her. “I have a deaf son,” he shouts. Instead of being contrite, she shouts back at him, “This is what comedy is about, you —. It’s about making fun of everyone and everything…” She doesn’t let up. Her diatribe lasts at least three minutes. She’s determined to give her side.
Following the show, a reporter asks for her reaction to the man’s heckling, and she says, “I understand he’s hurt. He has a deaf child. Maybe this was a catharsis for him.”
You could tell that Joan Rivers felt bad for the man, just as she felt bad for a longtime manager she was forced to fire because he no longer pulled his weight. “He was the last person in my life who I could reminisce with about the old days,” she said, tears in her eyes.
I’ll reminisce with you, Joan. And I’ll never make fun of your excessive plastic surgery again. Your face has nothing to do with your heart, brains and soul. I think you’re beautiful.
First prayer of the First Continental Congress
When the First Continental Congress met in 1774, the men started bickering within two days, so someone made a motion to open the sessions in prayer. John Adams said it had a remarkable affect, according to a new book, “Forged in Faith,” by Rod Gragg. Describing his work as “a survey of America from the colonization of Jamestown in 1607 to the creation of The Declaration of Independence in 1776, the author said: “Faith shaped the birth of our nation.” America really was forged in faith.
“Colonial Americans did not want a national religion like The Church of England,” Gragg emphasized during a TV interview this morning, “but they wanted the Constitution to reflect biblical laws and values and for Americans to have freedom of faith.”
Although Thomas Jefferson was an unorthodox thinker, he always claimed to be a Christian, Gragg noted. Interestingly, when his Congressional colleagues asked him to design a new national seal (to stop his complaining every time one of his words was changed in The Declaration of Independence), Jefferson’s design depicted the biblical image of the children of Israel leaving Egypt. Although the seal wasn’t used, the theme revealed the Judeo-Christian faith that gave rise to our great nation.
As we approach the 234th birthday of our incredible country, I propose that our esteemed Congress take a leaf from our Founding Fathers, stop bickering and grandstanding on both sides of the aisle and open its sessions in prayer. It doesn’t matter who anyone prays to, or even if he or she prays at all. What matters is that the men and women who represent us all look beyond themselves to keep America beautiful–from sea to shining sea.
I can't flip the photo for some reason, so please tilt your head
When I was recently walking through one of the busiest intersections of Manhattan—the corner of 60
Street and Fifth Avenue—I did something few New Yorkers usually do: I stopped to take a look around me, instead of rushing blindly to my next appointment. There, right near the southern entrance to Central Park, stood a giant, colorful metal sculpture. It reminded me of a monster ribbon.
It was a happy sight. Tourists were taking pictures of it, kids were crawling over, under and on top of it and I was smiling at it. I couldn’t find any information about the piece, even when I Googled it, but that doesn’t matter. It’s delightful.
I decided right then and there that I have to spend more time looking at my own city. Too often, we are so swept up in our day-to-day lives that we can’t see the sculpture through the trees, so to speak.
Parisians rush past the Eiffel Tower and The Seine; Londoners don’t give a moment’s notice to Big Ben and Venetians don’t marvel at their canals. The Empire State Building is just another building when I’m walking past it.
And what about all the lesser know, but not less captivating, pieces of my city? How often do I take it all for granted?
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