Today I saw a young skinny guy walking down the street with no shirt on, tight oily suit pants sitting low on his hip, one size too small, maybe two. The pants were a gentleman’s grey plaid, tight and tapered on the leg, with the skinny cuff hitting above the ankle, real 1960’s vintage cut. He wore old leather shoes with no socks and his messy hair hadn’t been washed in a while. His naked pale hairless chest wasn’t going to stay white for much longer in the dessert sun. The look was classic, brilliant really. A young Ricardo Inferno came to mind, that’s how I heard Giorgio Gomelsky refer to Richard Hell once. I miss seeing those types. This guy needed to get himself back to New York, but I was real glad he was visiting.