New England starts just south of Greenwich, Conn., but luxury, which is the town's birthright, honors no borders, remembers no beginning and anticipates no end. In New England, wealth, like so many other regional features, is practiced with deference. It is a style of fine living that does not shout, "Look at me," but says, "Perhaps I do live rather better than you; please don't take it personally."
As statistics have shown so many times, the really fun thing about having money is enjoying what you can buy with it. The main shopping street, Greenwich Avenue, is providentially helpful in that regard, and it has, in jewel-box form, many of the same shops as my hometown, Manhattan. Although Ralph Lauren has vacated a purpose-built facility, leaving a large, vacant premises and much collective regret, local branches of two of my regular emporia, Saks Fifth Avenue and Brooks Brothers, are in good working order. I respectfully toured the former and, with my son having just started fifth grade, I bought him a shirt at the latter, sold to me by the kind of well-spoken woman who can wear the brand's two centuries of retail tradition as naturally as if it were a single strand of pearls. Nearby stands a Tiffany & Co., the jeweler that defines American style in precious metals, and a place I have visited during fleeting, memorable moments of personal prosperity.
Wealthy people being uniquely capable of turning over their wardrobes, the area has a number of consignment shops. I stopped in at COUTUREDossier (CODO for short), which is owned by Yulia Omelich and her husband, Andrey. As Yulia sold a pair of blue Salvatore Ferragamo pumps that were the feminine mirror for the blue Ferragamo loafers I was wearing, we got into a discussion on how to spot a fake second-hand Hermes bag. Three young shoppers listened in, taking mental notes. (Highlights: watch for the unique Hermes nails and check if the leather has no uncharacteristic odor and has the expected softness to the touch.)
