She is the young woman who patiently explained to the homeless man in the subway station that playing fretless would greatly increase his guitar’s tonal range. Now she is arguing with her boyfriend as they wait in line for OZYFEST outside Central Park’s Rumsey Playfield.
“Those are the new Oxfords I want,” he says, pointing down to the man’s shoes in front of them.
She tosses her home-dyed red hair to the side: “You know I don’t approve of that.”
“Hey, come on,” he says. “They have less branding than before.”
She squints at the tiny Cole Haan tag peeking out from where the shoe’s quarter meets its throat. It’s kind of subtle, actually. But that’s not good enough: She scowls and sips her grapefruit Spindrift while the line dribbles into the playfield.