Parody
Parody News Item: "A Coach purse, containing a Gucci wallet and a Louis Vuitton change purse valued at $800, was reported stolen Sunday from a black Jaguar parked outside the Winnetka Golf Course....
...Next morning we round up the usual suspects for a lineup...
...That suit,” she says to me...
...Many of these men and women have done time at the Penitentiary Rehabilitation Administration Department Annex...
...She slips on a set of Fendi tortoise-shell glasses and concentrates her teal blue eyes as five men and three women take their places under the glaring lights...
...I’ve been ripped off,” she says...
...Two cell phones and $200 in cash were also missing from the car...
...Is he, do you happen to know, single...
...Polo...
...What about him...
...Her Valentino scent goes straight to my brain...
...I’m sitting feet up at my Alberto Meda desk, Zegna unconstructed jacket on the back of my Jorge Pensi chair, Hermès tie loosened, Joseph Abboud shirt completely damp...
...Took the stuff right off the front seat of my black Jag...
...The bag felt light, insubstantial, the buckle flimsy...
...I’m the man,” I say...
...She’s going down...
...Designer-goods crimes on the North Shore in Chicago are up something like 87 percent...
...Ever been to a Jewish singles’ dance, Detective...
...What about the guy in the Helmut Lang suede jacket...
...No thanks...
...It’s Boss all right...
...One’s mine, one’s my daughter’s...
...Winnetka Talk, July 19, 2001 It’s 94 degrees out and rising, and the a.c...
...Kenneth Cole...
...Hand it over...
...The victim shows up in take-no-prisoners Jil Sander Capri pants, a Chloé tank top, and J.P...
...Where’d it happen...
...A Coach bag, Gucci wallet, Louis V. change purse that set me back eight hundred . . . a couple of hundred more in cash, two cell phones...
...The babe doesn’t know it, but it’s PRADA for her...
...Oxxford...
...Don’t much like the tie...
...What’d they get...
...The guy in the Armani suit is kinda cute,” she says...
...Tears come into her eyes...
...Barneys,” I say...
...You never lost any of this stuff...
...The Chanel, the Gucci, the Louis V.—it didn’t take a trained eye to know all of ’em are cheap knockoffs...
...Hugo Boss, maybe...
...She’s wearing Escada jeans that don’t leave a lot to the imagination...
...How come you carry two cell phones...
...Why report it stolen...
...Don’t think so...
...The Winnetka Golf Course...
...Your watch—Bvlgari...
...Four,” she says, yawning, stretching her arms over her head, giving the pima cotton of her DKNY T-shirt a workout...
...You married...
...I pop a Kate Spade mint into my mouth, when this knockout, I mean off the charts, blonde walks into my office...
...You the man in charge of designer goods...
...Even so, the recidivism rate is up around 98 percent...
...There’s something Ralph Lauren-on-safari about her long hair, but with a let ’er rip Versace-goes-slumming look in her eyes...
...Not anymore...
...But let me tell you something about this lineup...
...Habituals, all of them...
...But I’m not about to take the fall for a woman who carries fake designer goods...
...Tag Heuer...
...Nice shoes,” she says...
...She takes the phone out, puts it to her ear—then another phone rings, and she takes a second cell phone out of the bag...
...The hours are terrible, the . . .” A cell phone goes off in her bag, a black Chanel job...
...My heart jumps...
...They’re released with fifty bucks walking-around money and some schmatte of a suit from Brooks Brothers or an off-the-rack dress from TJ Maxx...
...Still crying, she says, “You can’t know what it was like to be married to a man who wore Dockers seven days a week...
...It’s hard time...
...How old’s your daughter...
...They wear Fila running suits...
...Sobbing, she says, “It’s almost impossible to meet a well-dressed man...
...she asks...
...Does he look at all familiar...
...Tod’s driving shoes...
...In this business, marriage ain’t such a hot idea...
...I notice, Detective, that you don’t wear a ring...
...But my guess is you’re not here to talk about my shoes...
...PRADA, they call it...
...I empty its contents on a table before us: Along with the two cell phones, a Gucci wallet, a Louis Vuitton change purse, the keys not for a Jag but for a Toyota spill out...
...The Chanel,” I say, when she gets off both phones...
...Purple Label...
...at Designer Crimes has been on the fritz since morning...
...She slips her bare arms around my neck...
...Some morning I’d wake up next to her, and find myself in knockoff Yves Saint Laurent pajamas...
...I can find out...
...Right then I know I am being had...
...Schlepperosity like you wouldn’t believe...
...I feel her firm young body against me...
Vol. 6 • September 2001 • No. 47
