EXT. SATURDAY NIGHT - WASHINGTON, DC
A WEEKENDING NEW YORKER approaches the entrance to Agua Ardiente, an "upscale," "hip tapas restaurant" on the "DC Latin circuit." He is wearing a vintage suede jacket, black cashmere turtleneck, black Prada Sport loafers with that silly little red stripe that he neverthless insists be cleaned with glycerine every time he gets them shined, and, embarassingly, the slightly weathered pair of Banana Republic khakis with the little black label carefully picked off the back that he'd been househunting in all day.Two skinny DOORMEN, dressed all in black, brace themselves in advance of a confrontation.
Good Evening.
NEW YORKER
Hi.
DOORMAN 2
Sir, I'm afraid we can't let you in with sneakers.
NEW YORKER
No, it's OK. These are loafers.
DOORMAN 2
I'm sorry, sir, the policy is no sneakers.
NEW YORKER
But they're not-- they're loafers. Prada Loafers.
I got them at Harvey Nichols.
(An empty lie. But he'd rather get turned away for lying about Harvey Nick's carrying Prada than for not abiding with some obtuse provincial dress code. Besides, the man figures, it already can't get any worse than announcing your brands at the door.)
DOORMAN 2
I'm sorry, sir.
DOORMAN 1
You're welcome to come back without rubber-soled shoes.
NEW YORKER
So the definition of "sneakers" is rubber-soled shoes?
DOORMAN 1
Yes, sir.
NEW YORKER
What about the khakis? Should I change those, too?
DOORMAN 2
The khakis are fine, sir.
The man walks back to his car, contemplates the parties he's missing in New York, and heads home to rewatch Gerry, now available for rent or purchase on DVD.
Hi Greg,
I'm a Brazilian English teacher. I live in the capital of Brazil; Brasilia. I really liked the little I read about Sofia Coppola. I could identify myself with the way she feels about evrything around her. I have her next movie script. If you could somehow make a way to our conection I thank you.
Jem