From the Oct. 3 Observer column “The Eight Day Week”:

September is the new August! Or so it would seem, as every frilly girl or fruity boy is insisting on continuing to wear flip-flops and tank tops and flaunting their tattoos, which often just look like some toddler puked on their ankle–look, folks, this isn’t Miami, grow up and be a New Yorker, or move the hell out. We’ve had enough of your sunny, brainless disposition–New York is for dark, angry people, O.K.?! When was the last time you saw Patti Smith in flip-flops, for god’s sake!

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