I love my buddy Simon Doonan! He is a Bon vivant and man about town known for his wit and sense of humor. He has been a fashion fixture and helped the shop Barney's become the high end emporium that it it! I love his writing. Here is an excerpt of his new book:
He was scruffy. He was bearded. He was carrying a sustainable, earth-colored, cruelty-free man-bag, and ... he was picking his nose.
I guess it was inevitable. If the goal of chic Brooklynites is to appear gritty and unprissy, then it was only to be expected that they might add this revolting activity to their repertoire of coded heritage signifiers. And add it they have. Every time I board the L train, I clock another organic pickle-maker taking a nosedive. A stroll through any organic brewery or boutique hotel will invariably result in a few sightings. Hey buddy! Give me a wave when you reach the bridge!
As marketing gurus have pointed out, the faux-hemians of Brooklyn are a very influential group. Sure enough, I've observed the nose-picking trend spreading rapidly to nonhipster circles. Last week I flew to the U.K. on trendy Virgin Atlantic. The upscale lady across the aisle spent the entire flight looking at spreadsheets while sticking her forefinger into her schnoz. On the return journey an adjacent young banker-ish dude did exactly the same thing. This double whammy afforded me an unexpected insight: I found that I was significantly more appalled by the female picker than the male. Does this make me a misogynist? [Ed. note: Yes.]
One thing is for sure: I am a germ-phobic tissue addict. Even writing about nose-picking is making me feel queasy. But I am truly concerned that nose-picking is losing its taboo status. Type "celebrities caught picking their noses" into your Google search and you'll see that even A-listers are doing it!........