The shop draws you in. On a main street in SoHo. Flat against the store-front window glass are bolts of fabric, newspaper clippings and photos. But it is a peak in the open door seeing the vibrant colors and the draped fabrics and ruffles and pleats that begs you enter. Once inside the feeling is one of having stumbled into a working sewing atelier. Confusing, at first, as the clothes appear to be casually tossed, thrown, scattered and in some cases abandoned to find themselves flung over upright cardboard boxes. But it is the petit female that finally cements the confusion. Her face is painted white [reminiscent of a geisha] her eyebrows are half-inch azure bars above her eyes and because I was so conflicted about staring I can’t tell you exactly where the red or black was or what it delineated. The clothes: coats, jackets, tops are the kind of theatrical garments that are so unique and inviting, like wearing art. The exquisite deep colors are quite beyond my words to convey, unless you can visualize a field of multi-colored Dutch tulips blooming in the morning half-light of a cloud-shaded Dutch sun. Simply Beautiful.