When Your Dog Needs a $2000 Gown
Plus! Trader Joe's Panhandler Update!! A New Mystery!!!
Hello everyone,
Welcome to Issue #125 of CAFÉ ANNE!
Huge news! Long-time readers who memorize newsletter content will remember Marcus Ramos, the homeless panhandler stationed outside the Trader Joe’s on Court Street. He was always looking for odd jobs, and one morning last summer, purely out of curiosity, I hired him to help carry my groceries home. I asked him a lot of questions along the way, and with his permission, wrote up his story.
When CAFÉ ANNE readers learned that Mr. Ramos was trying save enough money to buy an ebike and earn a living as a delivery worker, they donated a collective $885.25 to his bike fund!
“Oh that’s great! God bless them! Thank the Lord!” he said, when I told him the news. He bought the ebike and, that same week, was able to snag a room at Williamsburg Safe Haven, a transitional residence for homeless folks.
“Every day I wake up happy!” he told me.
We fell out of touch, but last week, on my way Trader Joe’s, I heard a familiar call on the street: "Every job opportunity welcome! Your spare change is a blessing! Everything helps, and I will work for it!"
It was Mr. Ramos! He was back panhandling in front of the supermarket. And he looked a little worse for wear.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I got hit on my scooter!” he wailed. “It got totally crushed!”
He was cruising down Court Street making a delivery, he said, when a car veered out of control, hit another automobile and ran him over. Thank goodness the driver stopped, the cops and an ambulance arrived immediately, and Marcus wasn’t badly injured.
“So now I’m suing!” he said, flashing a huge grin. “When I got hit, even while I was on the street, under my bike, I didn’t call 911—I called a lawyer!”
Mr. Ramos is expecting a big payout. And he’s still got his room at Safe Haven, so he’ll likely be alright.
“Life is good!” he said.
In other news, huge 50% summer discount on the AirTrain to JFK shoutouts to new paid subscribers Susanna B., Angela M., Matthew S. (who believes in Aharon, too), the mysterious “kasokoly,” Tamsin O., Jane S., the fabulous Eden S., Em G. (who reads CAFÉ ANNE while getting her oil changed), Patrick C., J. Kress, Becky H., Maria JV and Jane W., “The Bloggess of Death.” That’s enough $$$ for 129 AirTrain trips to Terminal 4! And who doesn’t want to ride the AirTrain all day long? It’s like the Cyclone but with stops at the Avis garage!
I’m very excited for this week’s issue, of course. I was traveling for the July 4 holiday, so this week’s feature is a rerun—but it’s a good one, profiling Joanna Colon, Brooklyn’s most elite designer of beauty pageant gowns for dogs. Plus, I have a fresh NYC mystery for you to solve! Please enjoy.
Regards!
Anne
I Have a Mystery for You!
Alright, crew!
Over the years, in response to your requests, I’ve solved a number NYC mysteries (sort of) including the story behind a nonexistent steakhouse, the deal with those weird sidewalk vent towers, the secret location where street cart donuts are born and the back story on the now-extinct Sherita billboard. Now, it’s your turn to help me. I’ve got a real puzzler!
It all started Memorial Day weekend. Saturday morning, while boarding the 4 train at the Brooklyn Borough Hall station on my way to visit a friend in Beacon, I accidentally left my awesome monogrammed tote bag behind on the subway platform bench.
I still had my wallet and phone with me, thank goodness. But my keys, iPad and CAFÉ ANNE business cards were all in the tote bag—not to mention my beloved black hoodie and my AirPods.
I always trust New Yorkers to do the right thing, so I didn’t worry. “I’ll just take the next train back to the station, and my bag will definitely be right where I left it,” I told myself.
But when I returned to the Borough Hall station, my tote bag was gone. And the station booth clerk said no one had turned it in.
She was, however, was kind enough to show me a trick: using my iPhone, I could track the location of the Apple devices in my tote bag. My iPad wasn’t connected, it turns out, but my AirPods were!
While spending the day in Beacon, I checked my phone every hour to monitor the location of my AirPods. I watched, fascinated, as whomever had my bag spent a glorious Manhattan afternoon shopping at Bloomingdale’s before relaxing at a café on East 28th street and spending the rest of the day hanging out in Tompkins Square Park.
The person could have easily found my contact information on my business cards or in my iPad, but they didn’t reach out. I considered tracking the person down and demanding my bag back—a confrontation would have been a super fun adventure for this newsletter! But within a few days, my iPhone lost the connection with the AirPods, so that was no longer an option.
I figured that was the end of the story. And it was. Until two weeks ago, when I received a strange email. There was no subject line, and it was from someone named Diallo, writing from what struck me as a super sketchy email address—a string of random letters and numbers.
The note was in French: “Je votre tablet je le ramasse a la gare de train je voulais vou remettre mes chez le francais que je parle.”
I don’t speak enough French to order an omelet, so I ran the message through Google Translate. The result: “I have your tablet, I pick it up at the train station, I wanted to give you my letters from the French I speak.”
I was so delighted! Maybe New Yorkers are honest after all!
But the second email from Diallo gave me pause. It contained no text, only two photos. One showed the back of an iPad resting on a heart-print tablecloth. The shot showed the iPad’s screen, displaying several photos of me that I had stored in my digital photo library. That felt a little creepy.
Using Google Translate, I answered immediately.
“Oh mon Dieu!” I replied. “Quelle gentillesse vous avez trouvé et proposé de me rendre ma tablette Diallo! Merci! Comment puis-je te rencontrer? Mon numéro de téléphone est le —. Peut-être pouvez-vous m'envoyer un SMS?”
It sounds very cool in French, right? Here it is in English: “Oh my goodness! How kind you are to find and offer to return my tablet, Diallo! Thank you! How can I meet you? My phone number is —. Maybe you can text me?”
Four days later, I got a text from a strange international number. I looked up the country code: 224. That would the designation for Guinea, a small country on the west coast of Africa.
Over the next few days, I enjoyed the following text exchange, in French, which Google translated as follows:
Diallo: I'll pick up your iPad remind me but I speak French I'll give you your iPad I'll pick it up at the bowling station hell.
Anne: Good morning! Thanks for writing. I'm sorry, I tried to translate from French to English, but I still don't understand.
Diallo: Ok do you have a Whatsapp number send me I'll connect I'll send you the photo from your iPad and the photos found in the iPad I'm currently in Africa.
Anne: I have already received the photos you sent me by email.
Diallo: Ok ipad it belongs to you with a name of Anne Kadet who belongs to ipad I want to give you your ipad.
After several additional exchanges along similar lines, I thought I’d try giving Diallo a ring. He spoke a little English, it turns out, but the call didn’t help much. Here, the condensed version:
Anne: Hello my name is Anne—I'm calling about my iPad.
Diallo [speaking English]: You want your tablet?
Anne: Yes.
Diallo: Okay we have your iPad. I no speak English. Speak French. You are calling you only speak French you are calling to give me to tablet, please.
Anne: I don’t understand.
Diallo: You speak small English, small, small. We have your tablet, you got, Brooklyn.
Anne: Could I have your address? Can I come get my iPad?
Diallo: You are visit to Africa. You are coming to Africa.
Anne: I have to come to Africa?
Diallo: Yeah, yeah.
Anne: Why? Where are you?
Diallo: Me, Guinea.
Anne: How did my iPad get to Guinea?
Diallo: Call me tomorrow, today you speak French, you call me.
So that was last week. I didn’t have time to pursue things further because I traveling for a family reunion. The next step, of course, would be to call Diallo with a friend who speaks French. Oui?
But meanwhile, I’m wondering: if my tablet really is in Africa, how did it get there? Is there is some sort of international underground ring of iPad traffickers holding these devices for ransom? Should I fly to Guinea to rescue my tablet and favorite hoodie? That would make a good story! Or if Diallo turns out to be in Brooklyn, do I offer a reward for the return of my tote bag? Also, why is the world so weird? Why, why, why?
Please leave your ideas and suggestions in the comments, or email me: annekadet@yahoo.com.
FEATURE
When Your Dog Needs a $2000 Gown
Yes, there’s a subculture for everyone, and that includes folks who like to dress their dogs in formal wear and enter them in competitive pet pageants. Meet Joanna Colon, a Brighton Beach, Brooklyn designer whose custom designs can cost thousands.
“Some animals truly love the fashions,” said Ms. Colon, founder of Rebarkable Wags, a pet fashion house specializing in runway designs. “I'm not lying to you.”
In cities from New York to Nashville and LA, hundreds enter their pets in elaborate runway contests, competing for prizes such as “Little Princess” and “Best Outfit, Furboy.”
Many folks in the circuit attend multiple shows a year, said Ms. Colon, who attends pageants with her companion and muse ChuChi, a 3.5-pound Papillon-Chihuahua mix. It’s a real scene. “Once you get involved, you don't want to miss one,” she said. “It's amazing, seeing all the beautiful designs coming from so many different designers."
I would never put clothes on my dog, let alone a ball gown. But I get it. Dressing a pet in fancy fashions is perhaps the most frivolous thing I can imagine, and that’s what makes it so fun.
“It's true. Very true!” said Ms. Colon. “I mean, for a person to spend $1,000 on a dog outfit. Think about it!”
“A lot of these people don't have children, okay? A lot of them,” added Ms. Colon, whose own son is grown. “So the dogs have always been the children in their lives. That's basically what it is. It becomes part of your family. It's like dressing your little girl or dressing your little boy.”
And like any community, the pet pageant circuit is also about friendship and support. “A number of dogs that were involved over the years have crossed the Rainbow Bridge,” said Ms. Colon.
“Say that again?” I said.
“A lot of our dogs have crossed the Rainbow Bridge—”
“You mean died?”
“Yes, a lot of the dogs have died,” said Ms. Colon. “And these are dogs that have been modeling for years. So we will do a tribute to them as well. It's not all laughs. Sometimes we're in tears, crying, because we're watching these tributes.”
Ms. Colon’s designs can cost anywhere from $45 for a harness to $2000 for an elaborate headdress, gown and cape ensemble hand-sewn with glass beads, feathers and Swarovski crystals.
A commission typically starts with a consultation in which Ms. Colon meets the dog and discusses options based on the upcoming pageant and the pet’s personality. Much depends on what the dog will tolerate wearing.
“A lot of people tell me, ‘No pants for my dog. He's not comfortable in pants.’” said Ms. Colon. “You have to respect that!”
“But there are some dogs,” she added, “the minute you take out their clothing, they run right to you. Like, ‘Let's get dressed and let's go out.’ They love it!”
Ms. Colon grew up on the Lower East Side. She fell for fashion at a young age and had her mother, a professional seamstress, design her elaborate outfits based on the styles worn onscreen by her idol, Shirley Temple.
“I had to have a hat and a purse to match, and my white gloves,” she recalled. “In my area, there were a lot of old Jewish ladies. They used to sit out on the benches. They totally loved me. That’s who I would talk to in the mornings when I went out.”
Ms. Colon had a long career in interior and theater design. It wasn’t until recently that she went into pet fashion.
Her first client was ChuChi—her sister’s dog at the time. ChuChi needed warm outfits for winter, and Ms. Colon happily obliged. Soon, she was borrowing ChuChi for weeks at a time, using her as a muse and fitting model. The two bonded.
“I would bring her back to my sister's house, and she would be very, very unhappy,” said Ms. Colon. “She would cry and didn't want me to leave.”
Finally, sis let Ms. Colon keep the dog.
When Ms. Colon entered ChuChi in their first show—the 2016 New York Pet Fashion Show—she was a hit. “Because she's such a rare-looking dog, the paparazzis were all over her,” said Ms. Colon. “We immediately, instantly became known because of her.”
Ms. Colon and ChuChi have a mutually beneficial relationship. While the reclusive dog doesn’t really like to wear clothes, she patiently tolerates the fittings and pageants.
She also serves as a therapy pet. “I have a lot of anxieties, and I do get panic attacks,” said Ms. Colon. “Basically, she picks up on that when I'm feeling that way. She comes up to me and rolls her head into my neck and hugs me. That's her way of saying, ‘I love you so much. I want you to be okay.’ And it just feels great. It distracts my attention from what I'm feeling.”
In return, Ms. Colon showers the ChuChi with attention. She gives ChuChi regular spa treatments, including massages and painting her nails. They bathe together.
It is perhaps no surprise that Ms. Colon also maintains a large wardrobe for ChuChi—collected in seven file boxes labeled “formal wear,” “summer,” etc.
While ChuChi typically dons a simple stretch top and sunglasses for daily wear, her pageant outfits are often quite spectacular. My favorite: the “Galactic Angel” outfit ChuChi wore to a NY Pet Fashion Show pageant.
“Basically her thing was to make sure that all love in the universe was being spread equally, and spread among all the areas that it needed to be spread on to,” said Ms. Colon.
And ChuChi can also dress down. An upcoming pageant in Florida will include a breakfast with a graduation theme, and Ms. Colon plans to enter ChuChi in the contest’s “Most Likely to Be Expelled” category.
“We’re dressing her up like a hippie,” said Ms. Colon. “I'm going to be painting marijuanas all over her outfit, and I'm going to roll a big joint blunt for her. And yes, she's most likely to get expelled from school, because she's busy in the bathroom, smoking joints with her friends.”
CAFÉ ANNE is a free weekly newsletter created by Brooklyn journalist Anne Kadet. Subscribe to get the latest issue every Monday!
This person is very clearly scamming you, but why not mess with their head a bit? Do you have your photos backed up? I say send them a picture of your new ipad with the same photos visible and act like you've managed to get your ipad back. They'll be so confused!
This scheme does require them to be familiar with fringe science and concepts of parallel dimensions, so the language barrier might be an issue here. But at least you can imagine them scratching their heads exclaiming "sacré bleu!"
I am not sure how you kept your cool and didn't go after the tote thief knowing where they were. I think I would have made a scene as well.
But I agree with others, there will be a scam coming your way if you keep communicating with this person. I don't think they speak French nor they're in Africa - they are probably just setting the scene so they can ask you for a huge amount of money to "send" it back from Africa. I think your iPad is a goner, maybe I'd contact Apple to see if they can erase it (when I had my phone stolen, they set it in a way that, as soon as the phone connected to the internet in any way, it would become a brick).