There’s a Picasso in the West Village.

It’s owners try to hide it, but they can’t fool me - just stalk down 9th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenue, and peer through the windows until you find the prize - a painting the color of rotted antipasto that costs more than the townhouse it’s in.  And given the West Village, that’s saying something.

It’s not that it bothers me.  A few years ago when I was nine, I decided I’d rather not be Madonna.  This choice has made me infinitely happy, but it’s also narrowed my real estate choices.  Meaning:  I can’t buy a brownstone.  Meaning:  I can’t have a Picasso.  At least not until my movie rights sell, but that’s another story.

For now there’s a little consolation called The Voyeur Museum:

Set out on foot at twilight, with your eyes open.  Head down 9th street to peek that Picasso, then head onto Washington Square Park, where one of the houses has an impressive Homer (Winslow, not the guy who wrote the Odyssey, which would actually be more impressive…).  Head down Perry Street, where there’s a Miro, a Jasper Johns, and a Nan Goldin.  On the corner of Spring and Greenwich where MisShapes used to be, there’s a giant condo building with three Basquiats and a Samantha Keely Smith.  Someone on Greene Street has a John Currin hanging next to some saucepans (naughty! naughty!) and on Christie Street there’s a giant Frank Stella canvas, unhung and unframed.  I fear for that painting, since the people inside seem to be crackheads.  And of course in the Meatpacking district there are at least three Warhols, but those get boring in this city

And what can you see in my apartment?

Well, two pretty cool works of art, if you’re lucky.  One is my Proenza Schouler corset from their 2004 runway collection.  The other is a handmade lace bra from Le Marais, but unfortunately, the only person ever to see that in all it’s glory didn’t appreciate it for what it was worth -

It was quickly ripped in half and now resides in the back of my bureau.

But now we’re moving into voyeurism of another kind…