November 28, 2011--Black Monday

During our November sojourn in New York City, we have been trying to do some New York kinds of things.

We've been to the theater to see Follies (disappointing--no spark); the Museum of Modern Art (less a place to be transported by works of genius, with the crowds, more like a transportation hub); we walked the full length of High Line Park (the best new thing in the city in decades); and, as New Yorker as it gets, we've been hunting for new restaurants (so far Il Posto Accanto way east on 2nd Street is to be recommended).

After MOMA last Monday, wanting something lower-key and indigenous, we made it over to our favorite Midtown luncheonette, Viande, which for many years has served ordinary folks like us as well as the rich and famous (Spike Lee was there) its legendary all-white-meat turkey chef salad doused in homemade Russian dressing. They roast the turkeys in their sliver of a place (only tables for two are available) and when done to perfection hack the meat off the bone and generously heap it on a bed of chopped lettuce tossed with hunks of fresh tomatoes and cucumber. As Michelins might say if they rated such places, Viande is worth a detour.

And it is right across from Barney's where we hoped their traditionally funky holiday windows might be ready for viewing. From the crowds, including the paparazzi, we thought we were in luck.

So when we had downed the last scraps of turkey, we dodged the rampaging taxis to cross Madison Avenue and arrived, gasping for breath, on the other side only to find the shades on the windows pulled fully down. But with tantalizing signs on them promising--

THE BARNEYS HOLIDAY WINDOWS GET THE GAGA TREATMENT

"The Lady Gaga treatment?" I asked no one in particular.

"Of course, silly," Rona was quick to say--she is up on matters of this kind. "Is there another Gaga?"

"Let me check with one of the paparazzi," I said. "That must be why they're here. Lady Gaga herself is probably about to raise the shades on her windows. It's not that cold out, maybe we should . . ."

I could see that Rona was already rolling her eyes. She hates gawking. Especially my gawking. Here only tourists gawk. Real New Yorkers pretend not to be interested in the likes of a Lady Gaga.

Nonetheless, risking Rona's disdain, I approached one the photographers and asked what was happening. He turned out to be British; and, since Brits know their gossip better than anyone, I was pleased that I had instinctively made such a good choice about whom to ask.

"Yes, Lady Gaga is scheduled to be here," he said, sounding bored. I assumed that in early years he had probably chased after Princess Di so what's the big deal to him about someone self-named "Lady."

"To . . . ?"

"To do her usual thing. You know--make a big entrance, disappear into the store, and maybe raise some of these bloody window shades. I can only imagine what's behind them. Probably Lady Gaga mannequins in examples of her costumes. Perfect, just perfect."

"Because?"

"Because it all about money and shopping. This is Barney's after all and . . ."

I cut him off. Though I've been spending time with the Occupy Wall Street participants, I wanted a break from bashing the rich. "When is she due to arrive? I assume she's already late."

"Ten tonight."

"Ten tonight and you are already here? It's only 3:30."

"Maybe she'll be early. She does that all the time to shake us off her trail."

I shrugged and looked for Rona who was drifting around, ignoring the bustle, not wanting to appear as if she was waiting for Lady Gaga or anything else her scheduled appearance might elicit. "Let's go," I said. "Nothing's supposed to happen for hours." Rona smiled knowingly.

The next day, last Tuesday, in the New York Times I read about what all the hullabaloo had been about. Yes, as Madonna had done some years ago, Lady Gaga designed Barney's holiday windows; but as Gaga is nothing if not smart she also is supplying Barney's with 220 Gaga-themed Christmas gifts. Some are quite affordable like a $35 spin toy in the form of an egg which opens to reveal a tiny Lady Gaga inside--just like the egg she arrived in at this year's Grammys; cookies in the shape of some her most famous outfits, including her iconic meat dress--$85; and black stiletto Christmas stockings that will set you back "only" $65.

Then of course among the 220 items there is some high-end merchandise such as a necklace of crystal and jet beads that looks like a shattered disco mirror ball that will set you back $1,630. And, I almost forgot, a chocolate shoe. Yes, a shoe made of chocolate. It is a replica of a pair designed for her by Alexander McQueen before he committed suicide. He made made a few pairs for her video, "Bad Romance." They cost a cool $10,000, so the asking price for the chocolate one is a steal at $95.

Interviewed at Barney's, I assume ironically Gaga said, "Oh, it's fun. It's the dream of what music and culture are all about, and those are things you can get lost when you focus too much on commercialism."

One more thing--she showed up at 4:30, less than an hour after we left. We should have . . .