Meet the real Leatherface

I encountered a man on the street last weekend that really epitomizes why I devised the acronym RCNY (random crazy New Yorker). I was walking past Washington Square Park with two friends when we saw a figure in black saying something to the folks walking in front of us. They ignore him and continue on. As we get closer, we realize why: The figure in black is a slight man dressed head-to-toe in leather: leather jacket, leather pants, leather hood, and I think a leather collar too, with various studs and spikes all over. That’s not such an unusual sight, particularly in the West Village, but he also had on a leather facemask. Except it didn’t really look like a particularly well-manufactured leather facemask; it sort of resembled a leather strip that he happened to Saran-wrap across his face, cutting out holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth. Oh, and he also happened to be carrying a mace (not the spray, one of those medieval weapons with a round, spiky ball at the top).

Through the mouth hole, he proceeded to ask: “Do you know where a leather store is?” I had several immediate thoughts that ran through my head rapid-fire: He’s a psycho killer who is going to spike me in the eye at any second; he’s some sort of submissive or dominant on his way to the dungeon who forgot some S&M essential; Is it Halloween already?; and—Doesn’t he have quite enough leather on? Is there really any need to buy more?

All of this simultaneous shock, terror and curiosity manifested itself in me saying, “8th Street.” I don’t know for sure that there is a leather store there, but I thought that would be his safest bet. He proceeded to ask me where 8th St. He was only a block a way, but then my shocked speechlessness kicked in, albeit delayed, and I found I couldn’t really talk. I pointed in the general direction as me and my friends scurried away, but I don’t think he saw me. He kept asking where 8th St. was, but we had already absconded and he was onto the next group of people, asking the same question, getting the same reaction.

I don’t know if Mr. Leatherface ever found the leather store, and part of me felt bad because I’m sure anyone he asked would 1) not know where the leather store was, and 2) would be afraid to stop long enough to direct him because of his insane outfit. (Though I suppose if one knew where the particular kind of leather store he was looking for was, they would not have found his getup particularly shocking.)

I wonder what The Sartorialist would have thought of his ensemble. Damn, I wish I’d had my camera!