Before even asking her name, men in the Mandarin Oriental New York Hotel MObar talk about living on 5th Avenue, but only between excursions. “See, I love the warmth.” He means between her thighs; she thinks South Beach. He writes big ideas on napkins, communicating in squares, pushing clever paper like plastic pieces in a Cracker Jack box game. You’ve got your heart on your sleeve; he’s got his initials. Well, it’s rare to find real in a New York where the wine is $14 a glass, the lighting is scarce, and all the boys are necked out in Hermes… and occasionally Zegna. But only if he’s in a suit because Zegna neckties are all about the suit. But you knew that. Okay, no you didn’t.
When another man approaches Ms. Wow-I-love-your-watch-what-exactly-do-you-do-for-a-living, Mr. Hermes Monogram man rises to the challenge like foam. “May I offer you both a drink?” He looks into his eyes; it feels like war. So she has a boyfriend, but please, every attractive woman in this city is attached. Boyfriends are not deterrents; they’re accessories.