Dispatch from Nat Sherman HQ, Midtown
Save for the technology, little about film schools has changed since 1929. They are trade schools playacting as art schools and moonlighting in remedial business courses. Yet the market for these programs has grown insatiable. For a previous generation, going to film school was an uncommon decision that required real grit and determination.
Today, while film schools remain seductive, they have dropped the grit and doubled down on the glamour; their sharp edges have been carefully filed off and their values have been kid-tested, mother-approved. The still prevailing myth of the film-student-as-rebel obscures the banal truth: These are highly profitable institutions, buttressed by a wildly irresponsible student loan system preying on thousands of starry-eyed individuals all vying for “their shot.”
Everything Old is Old Already
In the train, stopped at Union Square. The doors open and a wave of passengers bring the swift sound of a be-bop combo in from the platform. I look around to see if my fellow straphangers notice, but each one is otherwise engaged - in conversation, or a phone, or other music.
From my seat, a long inseam steps into view, clad in navy wool and held mid-belly by a pair of diamond-print suspenders. I look up at the owner and find, not surprisingly, an aloof face hidden by horn rims and a high-and-tight.
The doors close, and I hear a sucking sound as the frantic jazz band is overrun, at last, by chatter. I take another peek at the Arrow Collar ad before me - lost in the reverie of his iPhone 4, he doesn’t miss the music.
My best friend and I were discussing the “Shit New Yorkers Say” video, specifically the fact that both of our workplaces were namechecked
I would easily put Beacon’s Closet on par with “Law & Order” in the great list of New York institutions.
