bugs.”
“Well, a squirrel puppet,” I corrected.
“Ah, a squirrel puppet!” His eyes lit up, and he pointed a knowing finger at me. “I can tell you about animal pelt puppets. It’s very interesting, actually. . . .”
“Well, that’s not what I was going to ask. What I was going to say—”
He wasn’t listening. “There are some places in Siberia where the natives make puppets from native animals. Lemme see. Is that the Yakuts that make those things, or the Evenk? Anyway, it’s taxidermy, made into puppets. A handicraft. They use them to tell stories to their kids.”
“Really?” I tried to look interested. Once you uncork Dudley’s brain, it’s tough rebottling the trivia genie. “Yeah, well, what I wanted to know was what you know about the downtown club scene. You see a lot of the club hoppers around here. What kind of club would you see Cola Woman at?”
Dudley finished his Fab Form on the third gulp. “Retro.” At first, his accent and enunciation made it sound like he said “Jethro.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s not a where, it’s a what. From your colorful if curious description, Cola Woman had an affected old-fashioned look. Retro people dress up like that.”
“Retro people?”
“Dress like FDR is still president, hang around swing clubs. Lotta former punks, but they sometimes dally with current punks or rockabillies.”
“Got it, the swing craze. Rockabillies being . . . ?”
“You know, people who take rockabilly very seriously. The Sun Records, ‘Yes, sir, Colonel Parker’ look. Giant Dep hair, black leather jackets, cuffed jeans.”
“Greasers or Elvis impersonators?”
“Bit of a country twang in it,” he cautioned. “Eddie Cochran, Gene Vincent, Stray Cats, like that. But some are more rudimentary. Some are more hilly-billy.”
“I’m with you.”
“Then again, many are also into swing, early fifties, and forties jive. Crossovers. Dressing up as a hilly-billy, Cola Woman could be a rockabillette. What makes you think this character frequents a New York club?”
“Hot tip, don’t know what to make of it. They dress like this just to go to the clubs or . . .”
“Hard-core ones dress the part full-time. What kind of punk—retro or otherwise—would you be if you didn’t cop the look daily, get the odd looks, define your rebel place in society?”
No matter what the context, I always find something slightly sinister in the way southerners say the word
rebel,
or maybe it’s just the way some of them work the word into sentences as if to bait Yankee paranoia.
“So they don the painted ties, two-tone shoes. Fifties rebels in ties and fedoras? Jitterbugging?”
“They prefer
lindy hop
to the word
jitterbug
. The point is, purple mohawks were crazy, but everybody got used to them and the shock value went
pfft
. Now dinner jackets, tie clips, hair cut high over the ears, and white sox get the reaction. Let’s not forget the stray zoot suit. Retro is the next big thing, Gawth. Where you been? They’re in Gap ads, even.”
“I’m a newspaper, magazine kind of guy. TV ads got too noisy.” I sat on the edge of the table. “So, where do you find these retro clubs?”
“Remember Vito Anthony Guido?”
“Could anybody forget a name like that?”
On the second tour of jury duty, Dudley and I palled around during lunch breaks with Vito, who as it turned out was one of Dudley’s glass-eye craftsmen. Sure, chickadee eyes may be all the same to you, but to Dudley, there is glass and then there are diamonds. When confronted with taxidermy, people stare at the eyes first. If the eyes aren’t sized right or aren’t set correctly, that lifelike effect isn’t achieved. Conversely, eyes that have depth and sparkle reinforce the illusion of life.
It’s all custom stuff, passed on to Vito as a hobby from his dad, a former Venetian glassworker, though the prosthetic human eyes are what brought his family renown. He’s a horn player on the side. After
“Well, a squirrel puppet,” I corrected.
“Ah, a squirrel puppet!” His eyes lit up, and he pointed a knowing finger at me. “I can tell you about animal pelt puppets. It’s very interesting, actually. . . .”
“Well, that’s not what I was going to ask. What I was going to say—”
He wasn’t listening. “There are some places in Siberia where the natives make puppets from native animals. Lemme see. Is that the Yakuts that make those things, or the Evenk? Anyway, it’s taxidermy, made into puppets. A handicraft. They use them to tell stories to their kids.”
“Really?” I tried to look interested. Once you uncork Dudley’s brain, it’s tough rebottling the trivia genie. “Yeah, well, what I wanted to know was what you know about the downtown club scene. You see a lot of the club hoppers around here. What kind of club would you see Cola Woman at?”
Dudley finished his Fab Form on the third gulp. “Retro.” At first, his accent and enunciation made it sound like he said “Jethro.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s not a where, it’s a what. From your colorful if curious description, Cola Woman had an affected old-fashioned look. Retro people dress up like that.”
“Retro people?”
“Dress like FDR is still president, hang around swing clubs. Lotta former punks, but they sometimes dally with current punks or rockabillies.”
“Got it, the swing craze. Rockabillies being . . . ?”
“You know, people who take rockabilly very seriously. The Sun Records, ‘Yes, sir, Colonel Parker’ look. Giant Dep hair, black leather jackets, cuffed jeans.”
“Greasers or Elvis impersonators?”
“Bit of a country twang in it,” he cautioned. “Eddie Cochran, Gene Vincent, Stray Cats, like that. But some are more rudimentary. Some are more hilly-billy.”
“I’m with you.”
“Then again, many are also into swing, early fifties, and forties jive. Crossovers. Dressing up as a hilly-billy, Cola Woman could be a rockabillette. What makes you think this character frequents a New York club?”
“Hot tip, don’t know what to make of it. They dress like this just to go to the clubs or . . .”
“Hard-core ones dress the part full-time. What kind of punk—retro or otherwise—would you be if you didn’t cop the look daily, get the odd looks, define your rebel place in society?”
No matter what the context, I always find something slightly sinister in the way southerners say the word
rebel,
or maybe it’s just the way some of them work the word into sentences as if to bait Yankee paranoia.
“So they don the painted ties, two-tone shoes. Fifties rebels in ties and fedoras? Jitterbugging?”
“They prefer
lindy hop
to the word
jitterbug
. The point is, purple mohawks were crazy, but everybody got used to them and the shock value went
pfft
. Now dinner jackets, tie clips, hair cut high over the ears, and white sox get the reaction. Let’s not forget the stray zoot suit. Retro is the next big thing, Gawth. Where you been? They’re in Gap ads, even.”
“I’m a newspaper, magazine kind of guy. TV ads got too noisy.” I sat on the edge of the table. “So, where do you find these retro clubs?”
“Remember Vito Anthony Guido?”
“Could anybody forget a name like that?”
On the second tour of jury duty, Dudley and I palled around during lunch breaks with Vito, who as it turned out was one of Dudley’s glass-eye craftsmen. Sure, chickadee eyes may be all the same to you, but to Dudley, there is glass and then there are diamonds. When confronted with taxidermy, people stare at the eyes first. If the eyes aren’t sized right or aren’t set correctly, that lifelike effect isn’t achieved. Conversely, eyes that have depth and sparkle reinforce the illusion of life.
It’s all custom stuff, passed on to Vito as a hobby from his dad, a former Venetian glassworker, though the prosthetic human eyes are what brought his family renown. He’s a horn player on the side. After
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