Missed Connections

Our senior love guru, Varun, looks for romance underground. Here is his report:

I pose this question to the masses: Is there a way to approach a girl on the subway without simultaneously looking like a really big creep?

The subway, like nearly all of New York City's public venues, is ironically and unfortunately a zone of minimal social interaction. For some reason, all conversation, eye contact, and (god forbid!) physical contact just aren’t kosher among strangers in the city. How then are we to make a connection, to form new relationships, or simply to meet new people?

The subway presents a classic example of this urban social hurdle. Picture this: You are on a downtown A train sitting across from a very pretty girl. You like the way she dresses and carries herself, and you wish you could get to know her better. Do you try to call out to her from across the aisle? No way. She could never hear you unless you shout, which would appear overly aggressive and end in disaster. Do you try to sit next to her (if there even is an open spot, which there never is)? No that would be coming on way too strong. Nobody switches seats unless somebody just puked in the seat next to you. Do you get up and stand in the spot in front of her? Clearly not, as that would align your crotch with her head and just be terribly awkward for all parties involved.

And even if you tried any of these moves, what would you then say? “Hey uhh…I like your skirt…”?? Or how about “Oh I see you’re reading that Obama book….did you know he’s our president now…?” On top of that, any conversation would be extremely time sensitive and frighteningly public, and when you reach the next stop, who knows how the seating arrangements will change! The stress alone could paralyze you!

Alas, I would contend that it is next to impossible to make a positive and lasting first impression on someone in the subway. But thankfully, I’m not alone in this struggle. Resourceful Craigslist users have adopted the legendary online forum to create a sort of lost and found for underground love. On the Missed Connections page, city dwellers can put up a post describing that special gal or guy that they totally would have approached had the situation been more amenable. The hope is that the object of their affection will rush to Craigslist and see their description, and a proper connection can be made. Better late than never.

Some of the entries are very creepy, but here is one of the more amusing posts from Missed Connections:

I'M SHY BUT U SHOULD READ THIS. PLEASE I'M SERIOUS. - w4m - 27 (MY PARENT'S PLACE)

It's so funny. I keep thinking about you and your sterile jars. You had a baker's dozen of them. Each one contained a small rodent like creature with deep set eyes and ears of silk. As the subway doors opened you turned a cartwheel. It wasn't your stop, but it was mine. I got off the train thinking I should have totally said something.

Location: MY PARENT'S PLACE

First the Bad News, Then the Good

The poor economy is dragging housing markets down across the country. Even the once impenetrable Manhattan real estate market is getting clobbered. Anyone looking to sell their place should try their damnedest to wait it out.

That's the bad news.

The good news is that if you've been waiting for the right moment to pounce on Manhattan real estate, now is the time. It's a buyers market. The average price of apartments has fallen between 13-19 percent from last year, according to the Associated Press. The price of luxury apartments dropped even more, with some losing up to a quarter of their value. Yes, it still costs an arm and a leg to buy a place here, but before it cost more limbs than any non-mutant person has.

In fact, just last month there was an auction of foreclosed homes in Manhattan, a very rare phenomenon.

However, if you're just interested in renting a place in Manhattan, there's some good news for you, too. In an effort to attract buyers, many landlords are offering free amenities (like microwaves), waving the first month's rent and even covering the broker's fee. Also, there's room to take advantage of this climate even if you're just looking to renew your lease. This article in the Wall Street Journal shows you how to craft a letter to your landlord to reduce your rent.

The King of New York

Yesterday, Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, passed away and left in his wake a world of grieving fans and followers. While the details of his death and the analysis of the influence of his life's work on American music is best left to other publications, the Losers Guide does have some insight into Michael Jackson’s impact on New York City.

All night long, large crowds gathered in Times Square and along 125th street in Harlem to celebrate the man who had become one of the most celebrated pop sensations of all time. We joined the fans along 125th street who swelled around car stereos blasting hits from Off the Wall and Thriller and dancing in the streets together. Earlier in the day, the Reverend Al Sharpton gave a brief but impassioned eulogy of the man outside the famed Apollo Theater, expressing the hope that now Jackson "gets the respect he was due." An impromptu shrine was then set up in his honor outside the Apollo, and news cameras rolled for hours to capture the emotion of the night. The Losers Guide was there to catch some of these moments in picture and video form:

Above: A crowd gathers around a Lamborghini and rocks out to old Jackson tunes

Below: An impromptu shrine is set up for fans

Above: Many cars on 125th street either blasted old Jackson songs from their speakers or wrote short memorials on their windshields

Below: A girl dresses up like Michael Jackson (left); And yes, someone made a t-shirt already (right)

Say what you will about his personal troubles, but there’s no doubt in our minds that Michael Jackson was among the greatest pure showmen and performers that we are likely to see in our lifetimes. This is clear in this clip that we found of Jackson performing “Billy Jean” in New York in 2001.

And finally, here's a short VIDEO of people chanting in tribute to MJ.

Losing Our Virginity

Our Retro Correspondent, Seth, reports on the current state of the New York City record store.

It's been a little more than a week since the last Virgin Megastore closed down in Manhattan. In the final weeks, the store had unprecedented discounts on vinyl, CDs and movies. And suddenly, all the New Yorkers who had stopped going to Virgin because of high prices were back roaming the isles. While I was there, several customers kept glancing at their iPods, trying to figure out which of the downloaded bands on there were worth buying on hard-copy. Others hovered around the vinyl section, wondering whether now was the time to start a collection.

New York City is meant to be the promised land for great record stores, a place where you can find obscure oddities and hidden gems. No other city, perhaps with the exception of San Francisco, offers a comparable selection. And yet, in recent years, the big stores have shut their doors one by one. For anyone who has lived in Manhattan for more than a couple years, the last days of Virgin Records felt eerily familiar. It was just a few years ago when the entire Tower Records chain shut down.

We have now reached a point where no chain store, it seems, can exist on selling CD's and DVD's alone. Instead, the ones that continue to be successful are stores like J&R and Best Buy, which sells lots of electronics, and Wal Mart, which sells lots of everything else. Yet, this makes New York City all the more valuable thanks to its large number of small independent record stores. Whether you're a longtime collector looking for new places to find that rare record, or a new buyer who just purchased your first CD in the dying days of Virgin, here is the list of five of our favorite stores left in NYC:


1) Bleecker Street Records - This Greenwich Village shop is a staple for record collectors. It offers used and new CDs upstairs and an excellent collection of classic vinyl and posters downstairs. The used CD's can run for as little as $4, but for the most part, don't come here looking for cheap buys. This is where you go when you have to own a record and you can't find it anywhere else.

2) Sound Fix - If you're looking for new releases from Indie bands like Grizzly Bear and Bon Iver on vinyl or CD, this is the place to go. On top of a nice selection of music, this store is connected to a sweet bar in the back. Buy a record, grab a Guinness and stay for any one of the free performances they host.

3) Turntable Lab - This East Village store ranks near the top of most lists of the best record stores in America. It offers a great selection of DJ equipment and Hip Hop music. But the store is much more diverse than that. From a recent review of the store: "[H]ere you'll find everything like techno, house, dubstep, roots + dub, nujazz, new disco, electro rock, rave, new wave, Miami bass + electro, Baltimore electronic, Ghettotech bass, break beats, cosmic, Italian disco, dance, and lots of very underground hip-hop." How can you beat that?

4) Generation Records - This store bills itself as the best destination for "obscure, outrageous or just plain weird" records, and they certainly are not far off. It is only a few blocks away from Bleecker Street Records. So, after you've satisfied your craving for old folk music there, head over to this shop for all your punk and heavy metal needs.

5) Other Music - It's a little lonelier now that the Tower Records in Greenwich Village has closed. It used to be possible to search through the racks at Tower for all your mainstream needs and then stroll down the block to Other Music to find records from all those bands that were too cool for Tower. Still, this is the place to go to find out about all the weird bands you never hear about anywhere else. Just try not to be too embarrassed if the only band you recognize there is Radiohead.

Did we miss one of your favorites? Leave us a comment here or e-mail us your responses at losersguidenyc@gmail.com

Oops, Just Missed It!

New York City is a tough place to be punctual. Either the subways are running late or some disenfranchised group of people is holding a rally, somewhere, blocking traffic. Or else your bike got a flat and you couldn't fit the pump into the wicker basket in the front, what with all the records and your spare fedora already in it. That's why we really don't appreciate the hours of the Pearl River Mart down in SoHo. 7:20, really? Good luck.

- Seth

Tough Choices

So you finally fulfilled your New Year's resolution of going to the Jenny Craig in Union Square only to find that you're a little hungry when leaving the place. You turn left and see McDonalds; you turn right and see an overpriced yogurt shop. What do you do?

Tits and Tats Weather: Lamenting the End of Winter

On this Memorial Day Weekend, our veteran fashion correspondent, Varun, asks us to remember all the beautiful, healthy sweaters that have been closeted as summer draws near.

So it’s finally getting nice in New York. After a long, cold, wet winter, the sun is starting to shine, and city-dwellers are beginning to emerge from their concrete caves. Jackets and scarves are being shed in favor of tank tops, flip flops, and shorts. Great news, right? Wrong!

If you’re like me, a person of modest physical attributes, then you’re probably just as bummed as I am to see “sweater weather” fade into the bright, sunny horizon. For guys like us, cold weather acted as the great equalizer. Everybody had to bundle up, so nobody’s pectoral muscles stood out from the pack. Winter was a golden time, where people are judged by the size of their personalities, not the size of their biceps.

It was also a time for sweater enthusiasts like me to shine. I’ll say it straight up: I love sweaters. All sweaters. I love the way they look, feel, smell, and the way they make hugs incredible. Part of this love stems from my father, who has saved every sweater he has owned since the seventies. His closet is my favorite part of our house. It’s like a magical time capsule.

The other major source of my love of sweaters is Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable of the Cosby Show. He’s something of a hero to me, in large part because of his uncanny ability to rock the craziest sweaters you’ve ever seen with a sense of cool and style that is unmatched in today’s popular culture. I’d like to see someone try to wear a pair of cargo shorts with even half that degree of gravitas.

So while you’re all out enjoying your precious sunshine at your beaches and parks, just know that summer can’t last forever. Soon enough Fall will be back, and our time will come again. Until then, farewell dear sweaters. I'll miss you more than you know.

Introducing: Washington Symmetrical Park

Our Critic-At-Large, Seth, makes the long voyage from the far reaches of uptown Manhattan down to West 4th St. to review the newly renovated Washington Square Park. Here are his thoughts:

If you enter the park at night from any of the four corners, it still feels creepy. Within seconds of stepping into the hallowed park's entryway, two different men approached with the familiar refrain, "Smoke, smoke?" My nostalgia roared.

I went to NYU for undergrad and spent my freshman year at a dorm on Washington Square South. I've walked through the park drunk and sober, in various stages of undress, in blizzards and scalding heat, past many, many colonies of rats. I've been offered marijuana, coke and ecstasy by comically conspicuous drug dealers and proselytized to by Hare Krishnas, Mormons, Christian Evangelists and Chabad. If I had a nickel for every time a homeless person asked me for money while sitting in the fountain, maybe then I'd give them something. Probably not though; NYU seriously dented my funds and that liberal arts education is taking a damn long time to pay for itself.

Anyway, enough of nostalgia. The interior of the park where all the renovations have been centered this past year and a half is, sad to say, much, much nicer than it was before. Forget about whether the fountain is aligned with the arch. There is just much more space to navigate. I stopped by the park in the daytime later in the week and, despite there being dozens of people, it still did not feel crowded. On top of this, there are more places to sit and more places for small bands to set up shop and perform without clashing with one another. The park is also more level now, so there is less likelihood it will flood as badly as it used to during rain storms.

I definitely considered myself part of the group of students and city inhabitants who were adamantly against renovating the park. At the time, it just seemed like we were exiling all the best spirits from the city with various construction projects - whether it's the spirit of Bob Dylan playing in the park or the spirit of Mickey Mantle in the old Yankee Stadium. And, of course, to make matters worse, the park was the only community space we NYU students could claim as (mostly) our own.

The truth is, I would rather have had the park for this last year and a half. The construction wasn't worth all the drama and inconvenience of closing it off. But now that it's done, I'm glad to have those renovations in place.

Most importantly, though, it seems some but not all of the old recurring characters in the park are still there. Tic and Tac performed their usual acrobatic routine to dozens of people on one side of the fountain; on another side a typically anachronistic folk band crooned to Going Down the Road Feelin' Bad. All the while, drug dealers canvassed the area for sales. But other key figures were sadly missing, at least for now. The homeless man who makes crafts out of match-sticks was nowhere to be found. Neither was the psychic Homeless Jesus there with his portable PSP system. And where in the world is the Dosa Man?

The real tragedy must be for NYU's class of 2009 who spent nearly half of college without the park, only to have it open up a few days after graduation. Sorry guys! At least you had Dimo Square a few blocks away.

Green Isn't Always Good

Last month I got scammed for the first time. I'm a pretty skeptical person by nature and tend to ignore most people on the street who approach me for donations to buy a child, save a tree or fight the man. In fact, I've personally found that there are two simple things anyone can do to escape scam predators on the city streets: wear headphones and don't carry more than 30 bucks on you at any time.

However, the scammers finally found my one weakness: come to where I live. I had just returned to my apartment with one of my roommates after going out to a wine tasting. We were in good spirits and in the middle of telling a story as we walked down the hallway to our door, which is why we didn't pay much attention to the two guys in suits camped out by the elevator. A few minutes after we'd stepped into the apartment, we heard a knock. We answered and sure enough, it was them.

"We're with Con-Ed," one of them said. Then he pointed at the other guy and said, "this is my partner for the day. He's new and I'm just showing him the ropes." The other man smiled pleasantly and said hello. Then the first man continued. "We're just going around, checking peoples' most recent Con-Ed bills. You see, everybody should be getting a discount right about now and just want to make sure everything's in order. If you have one lying around, we can just check real quick and save you the trouble of being overcharged."

Never mind that it was 10 o'clock at night. Never mind that there was something called the Internet where we had electronic statements and updates about deals. I felt comfortable with their friendliness and figured that as long as I was not asked for a credit card, check or cash, nothing bad could happen. So I fetched the bill from the living room and brought it to them.

They scanned the bill and circled two or three places where we could save money. Then I watched as they wrote down the name on the bill, a couple numbers with dollar signs attached and the Con-Ed account number. They never asked for a credit card, but as I soon found out, they didn't need to. At the very end, they asked me to sign something. (I should mention here that the account isn't in my name so I figured my signature would not count for much). With that, they gave us some pieces of paper and left.

I knew I was scammed the moment I shut the door. I looked at the papers and saw they were with a company called IDT Energy. My first thought: Dammit, I've been hustled by a company whose name basically spells out IDioT!

I did a quick Google search and found several stories like this that explained how these people go door-to-door, getting Con-Ed customers' account numbers and then canceling their service. They then sign up those people with new IDT accounts. Customers usually end up paying more with IDT and on top of that, they pay a penalty to Con-Ed for canceling their accounts prematurely. The salespeople on the other hand make a nice commission through these scams.

IDT is a real company whose mission statement is "Buy Green today - for a better tomorrow." But if you've been scammed, your tomorrow will mostly be spent on the phone with Con-Ed, explaining the situation and telling them to freeze your account before it's too late.

- Seth

The Scam

As a kid you receive a lot of simple safety advice that you assume will stay in the back of your mind until you need it. Well I have a terrible memory. But for your own sake try to remember all the mistakes I'm about to list.

I was walking on 7th avenue one dreary day when a red minivan pulled up next to me. A man with a strong Italian accent called me over in broken English. He pulled out a small subway map, and asked me for directions to get to Newark Airport.

After I explained how, he said, "You've been a really nice guy." Then he asked me where I worked. I was thinking I should go, but I also realized I had nothing much to do that day, except maybe get a tattoo.

He mentioned he works for Giorgio Armani and was in town for a fashion show uptown. He said he had lots of clothes leftover in his car and had to get rid of them before flying home or else pay an expensive export tax. He was in a tight spot and said, partly to thank me for my help, he could give me a jacket or two for free.

Did I need a jacket? No. Did I want free stuff? Yes. Even if I had no use for it, why not get something for free. Isn't that one of the main tenets of living in New York?

He invited me into his car and said to check out the jackets. I was hesitant at first and said I needed to get going. He said, "Don't worry, this isn't like a gay thing." He wasn't a very formidable person and I didn't feel in any danger. So after giving it a quick thought, I got in the car.

He gave me a spiel about the jackets and I noticed that his English got better as he went along. He pulled out one jacket at a time, each one more expensive than the last and asked me to feel the quality of the fabric. He asked me to pick three. He said they were a brand of Armani (Reportage) that I had never heard of and he named some audacious retail prices. He could give them to me half off.

As soon as I heard the prices, I laughed and said I should go. But he turned to me and said "Please, help me out. Do you know how much these jackets go for?" Then he asked, "How much do you have in your wallet."

I can't explain why but instinctively I reached for and opened my wallet. I counted my money. One hundred and twenty five dollars. Most of it money I'd gotten for my birthday a few days earlier. Now he knew I had $125. He said OK, but that's definitely not going to be enough for these fine Italian jackets. Then he offered to drive me to an ATM. This was definitely going too far. I told him no, my bank money was for rent, not for jackets. $125. He asked me which two jackets I liked the most and I picked two: one leather and the other suede.

He took the money from my hand. Now I had to stay in this car until I got something. So I dialed a friend hoping he could check the brand online, but he didn't pick up. The Italian got annoyed and said he was in a rush. So I grabbed the money back from him.

The man said he was offended and told me to get out of the car. He had to go to the airport. For some reason, I felt a pang of guilt for having offended this strange Italian man and said I didn't mean to. He looked at me sadly, showed me his Italian passport and said, "You don't believe me. Yet I believe everything you're saying!"

That was my final moment of introspection. Yes or no. I could get out of the car or get the two jackets. Yes or no. He said again how he was in a rush. So I took the two jackets, gave him the money and left.

As he drove away, I noticed his license plate wasn't a rental. The brand of Armani turned out to be fake. It was all a scam. If you ever thought it was safe to amble down a Manhattan street with 100+ dollars, not caring, you're wrong. Also, too much idle time really can hurt you.

-Rishi