It’s a brisk Saturday morning on the corner of University Place and East 12th. A quintessential autumn day in New York is the backdrop for the first ever Rugby Tweed Run. It’s as if Mother Nature herself registered to cycle around the Big Apple (it’s been raining the last two days). Every rendition of tweed imaginable, and interpretations we didn’t even think possible, mingle about in a sea of browns, olives, and grays. The first group of riders take off amidst the quizzical expressions of tourists and on-lookers...
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On a chilly Tuesday night in the West Village, the dark woods, warm glow, and beat-to-hell Oriental rugs of 390 Bleecker Street are a welcome invitation. Dennis and Lynton greet us, Coggins, Mordechai, Foxley, Darrell, and Brian from inside the diminutive shop. You would never guess the rectangular West Village space was vacant one month ago. From the creaky wooden planked floor to the fireplace stuffed with 19th century hard bound books, Rugby’s haberdashery shop feels anything but new. In fact, all it’s missing is a coat of dust...
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