Packing

It has been some time since I was last in what used to be called the Meatpacking District of the Inner Borough. My god, what a hellhole it has been turned into! It’s just another mall for domestic Eurotrash now. There is still a little authenticity left -- some meat, as it were -- but mostly it’s consumerist froth (overpriced frocks, etc.), for the ruling oligarchies and those who pretend to be its members. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. I’d gone to see this exhibit, but of course it was an opening, which never has anything to do with art. Blinded by the bees, I’d forgotten that. There was a doorman (a sinister old roué wearing gloves) and a bouncer (usually the only non-white person around, but here the muscle was as pale as the crowd) at the door. The exhibit was off in a side room at the back of the very pretentious store, but it was next to the huge scrum at the bar. And there was another gatekeeper there, as well. How very tedious. We left after a couple of minutes. Not our crowd.

More images of the trip here.