Letter from the Founder
When people ask me how I got into dressing up, I tell them it was New York and the siren call of her nightlife. It was her bars and nightclubs like a Promethean arc sling-shotting me around the sun and down into the equally incandescent fluorescent neon underbelly that defined my teen years. While Springsteen conjured up “” in his paean to the omnipotence of adolescent onanism, when I think of being ‘blinded by
