I love unexpected essays like this, especially since it appears in the NYTimes Book Review. Me? I prefer red wine over white, dirty vodka martinis and Hendricks gin (that's the one flavored with cucumber and it's delicious). In college, a friend and I imagined we fit in among the raconteurs at the Duplex and Marie's Crisis in the West Village where we would drink gimlets like background extras in "Breakfast At Tiffany's." Good times. The essay, by writer Geoff Nicholson links right here.
Labels: essay, Geoff Nicholson, New York Times