Don Johnson Called

When I was a teen in Nutley, NJ, I loved clothes. I was a working man (which explains my truant senior year and late graduation), and I could afford some special items. Driving my gold ’56 Oldsmobile 98 with a Continental kit, I had to be styling. So I had my shirts custom made and was looking cool. Here I am, a quarter of a century later. As much as I wish I had saved some of my custom clothes from the late 50s, I’m not so nostalgic for this look.

I reminisced earlier about my road to the art world – from Nutley – to Mars – to Park West Gallery.

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