A few days ago while floating around the West Village, myself and another flaneur in search of nothing and everything noticed a fun little item in the window- a white tiger reclining (rather than protecting) a storefront. Peeking in gave no indication of what was inside, and the pseudo-fade of the painted name rung no mental bells, and only right now (while trying to figure what to write of) did I find out that it was an interior designer whose work I had seen before but who did not leave any deep impression- being as it is more of that kind of second level, possibly third tier, decorative work that is of the city.
What does impress me is that there is a quiet beauty to the storefront in an area where the increasing faux luxury of brand names just around the corner, spawned by the demonic show that gave rise to the cupcake craze, has infiltrated further and yet further. Fortunately, one need but enter a true place such as Three Lives and Company Bookstore to take a breather and imagine that the West Village is changing back to the good old days.
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