David Bowie

I hear noise above me. It's muffled and I'm not sure what it is or where it's coming from. I find myself drawn to the din and ascend the escalator. With each passing moment the clarity sharpens and my anticipation increases because it's 11:00am and it sounds like a party. I have to investigate.

When I arrive on the sixth floor I see gathered around the area reserved for the best lingerie department in New York City a scene that is indeed a party. And off in the corner holding court and speaking to such notables as Simon Doonan, Barneys' window display impresario, is someone I grew up idolizing. David Bowie.

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