When my sister graduated from N.Y.U's Stern School of Business in 1995, my father commissioned a painting from our friend Boris Zherdin of my sister in business attire, a skirt-suit, in a drab cafe surrounded by men in boring ties. She was even reading a newspaper with O.J. Simpson on the cover. The point was that she was the only woman in a man's world, brave and a pioneer, a financial Columbus in the land of the Natives. Well, one year after my graduation, French Photographer Franck Prignet has unknowingly made an analogy to the original commissioned work. Here I am in the warm, oak and cherrywood "Gran Cafe de Paris" (Gran is correct Spanish, it is not a letter that has fallen off the sign from neglect, an embodiment of the tower of babble inside its doors as well.) The warmth of the varying colors of brown, of skins and walls, and green mint tea and table cloth. Le Figaro Magazine will feature an article on the Gran Cafe de Paris and it's history. I don't know if my picture will make the cut. But I do get the picture, because I am a regular, along with Charlie, whose business card says "Often found at the Cafe de Paris" and who gets his mail there, and Jean-Baptiste (John the Baptist) an unruly, striped-shirt wearing gay fellow.