And those of you who didn’t take literature in school ask: Who?
He’s the Irish author of The Commitments, The Woman Who Walked into Doors and now, The Dead Republic. And, if the reading I attended is any indication, he would make the coolest dinner guest ever.
Nerd that I am, I had him sign The Dead Republic. The unfortunate thing about it? It’s volume three of a trilogy. Which means there are about 800 pages standing between me and it.
The event must have inspired me. Because the next day I showed up dressed like a middle-aged author: tweed jacket, driving shoes and all.
With some bohemian touches: hippie dippy necklaces. I made the red and silver one, and I found the pendant in Playa del Carmen, Mexico.
It’s from a little shop tucked away in a picturesque courtyard off 5th Avenue (between Calle 6 and 8, in case you’re headed there).
My driving shoes? They’re from a far less quaint source: Cole Haan.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.
