November 12th, 2009 by The Barefoot Blogger: Laura Kleinbaum

Walking through the East Village today, I passed a pack of street urchins.  They were in their teens and twenties, dirty and disheveled, and something just told me they owned the street.  Sure, they looked like they might steal a loaf of bread at any moment and bring it back their leader at his abandoned subway station office– accessible only through the sewer system– a loaf of bread that he would then distribute to the kids at the tent colony under the bridge. But they were so cool.  I see them every once in while and I always make the same observation: Their style is rough and dark, but they’re great about balancing this look by contrasting its hardness with long flowing strawberry hair or a blousy floral top beneath a worn leather motorcyle jacket.

And they don’t just walk, they saunter such that when you think of them after they’ve passed, your mind converts the memory into slow motion and “All the Young Dudes” plays in the background.  They’re perfect, beautiful creatures, modern New York City icons.  Today as I passed them, the oldest boy smiled.  I, of course, smiled back.

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