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Unicorns Need Not Apply

I stopped into The Mandrake after Gary Baseman's opening at Billy Shire Saturday night (I'm guessing Caroline will be blogging about the show, so all I'll say is this: Natalia Fabia looked fantastic in floor-length Gary and electric pink lowlights). Steve Shein was hawking his laser-cut wares in the back room - plexi-carved pop iconography (roller skates, bunny heads, rainbows - seventh grade notebook doodle-stuff) molded in gumdrop brights and sparkles.

"Do you have any unicorns?" I asked the weary and well-liquored artist.

"Sure do," he said, suddenly leaping to life at the prospect of a sale.

He rifled through a small plastic storage bin and handed me a horse-shaped piece of purple plexiglass dangling from a gold-like chain.

"This isn't a unicorn," I said. "This is a horse."

"Oh yeah, that's right. I hate unicorns. I always have."

Unicorns Need Not Apply

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