Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue Goes Into A COMA
by Tux Toledo
Page 2
"No,
those are not artists," Mary Bain snapped. "They're
construction workers building the new exhibit salon."
"Oh," I said. I honestly couldn't tell. The works
on display at the San Francisco museum named the Collection of Modern
Art, COMA for short, were barely distinguishable from the materials the
workers were using to build the new room, I mean salon.
Besides, have you ever seen a modern artist, particularly a sculptor,
at work? If you haven't then trust me. You would
have a hard time distinguishing them from construction workers.
"Come this way," Mary said. She was still smarting from my
uncultured mistake. These art types have a very sensitive
nature. "I'll show you where the sculpture was."
I followed her to a space near the new exhibit room, I mean
salon. Her blond hair brushed across the shoulders of a
flowing, red Versace dress. The dress swished as she walked
and it reminded me of the broad stroke of a wide paintbrush.
The small blue and green paint stains on her thumb and index finger
did, however, clash with her deep red nail polish. Not very
artistic if you ask me.
I was at the COMA to investigate the disappearance of an expensive
piece of abstract sculpture. Yes, I know, the race track one
day, an art museum the next. A true gentleman must be able to
effortlessly and elegantly operate within diverse environments - which
means one must have a diverse wardrobe. And if you know me
you know my closet holds something for every occasion. An
occasion such as a visit to an art gallery demands absolutely
impeccable attire. Therefore, I was impeccably attired in an
exquisitely tailored gray flannel suit with a traditional English cut
augmented by a perfectly starched white shirt and a tie bluer than the
waters of Lake Tahoe on an absolutely sunny day.
© 2008 David Biagini