When I was seven, my Aunt Minnie who is just ten years older than me, (and we grew up as brother and sister for a while), kidnapped me with her boyfriend Kit. We had such a good time. She ran away from her parents house and came and picked me up at my mother’s apartment in the Bronx. They stole me away for a few hours and took me to a Chinese Restaurant. Kit stole all the silverware as a joke. They talked to me, not at me. I felt good and happy. I didn’t have that much happiness as a kid… or do I just mean nobody actually tried finding out who I was
A few years later Minnie was dancing with Alvin Ailey and her husband who was twice her age but liked playing with railroad trains, was a Broadway Producer. They had a party in their huge loft in the East Village. I was ten and met Andy Warhol,(just for five minutes, I’d meet him later for another ten), Cherry Vanilla, Joe Dellesandro, and the rest of that Warhol crew.
Throughout my young life, my Aunt Minnie was there to show me a different way to live. I entered Bohemian Culture myself as an adult and so we are both packed with stories of love, hate, relationships, artists, musicians, dancers, charlatans, and our mutual family isolation
I met her last night for a midnight snack of Babka. She was just in town for the day, leaving to discuss dance Choreography in Philly the next morning.When we get together, we have endless discussions about everything. So, I got little sleep last night and did not expect to see what I was going to see today in an Estate sale in Oyster Bay.
What made this a special estate sale, was the sheer volume of cheap expensive crap; imagine if your simple minded Aunt Clara won the lottery and always collected cheap reproduction tea cups and stuffed animals. Now that she won the lottery, she wasn’t going to stop and buy good stuff, she was going to continue to buy cheap expensive crap…There are a lot of Aunt Clara’s out there who won the lottery…
I don’t know how these folks got their money but they bought a ton of cheap expensive crap. A whole mansion full of it. I was only able to buy a few boxes of large oversized books, that would make good cheap presents for people, but the back story was pretty funny.
It was an old guy’s house who liked having Asian Prostitutes over for parties every night of the week. There he was eighty years old, or maybe he was fifty but went through so many prostitutes that he only looked thirty years older. There he was drinking a funky designer beer and a baloney sandwich and looking at all this extradinary bad, bad crap. He probably was thinking of the broads he was going to have come over the house later…
His ex-wife and his daughter were there. They were trying to sell off his madness… Apparently, one of the Prostitutes called the cops and put in a phony claim that there was a woman on the premises held captive. So, the place was crawling with Cops, cheap collectors, disappointed dealers, and who knows, it felt that there might be some prostitutes among us.
When I found the crawl space in a room that had a lock on it… I thought perhaps I might just find a hostage. The crawl space was empty, and I was able to continue my search through the books which were only so-so and not have to yell for a Medic.
We took some photos and I will link them tomorrow. I gotta go now. I’m beat. I went from having the time of life discussing the secrets of the Universe with my Aunt, to exploring a nonsensical world, in which one bad thing to own of an item was not enough. A hundred of a bad item was not enough. Why couldn’t he just give all his money directly to the Prostitutes. Why did he need two hundred glass slippers?
I bet there are a ton of Asian Prostitutes who were over his mansion who are looking at their own little collection of glass slippers, wondering why their empire had to be brought down.