The Stuyvesant

The year was 1647 when “Old Silver Leg” Peter Stuyvesant first set peg-legged foot on what would become the greatest city on earth. Back then, he called it “New Amsterdam,” which was a sweet name, but it ultimately gained the equally cool name, “New York.” Stuyvesant was a true New Yorker; he never backed down from anyone.

When Brant Aertzsz van Slechtenhorst (don’t worry, we can’t pronounce it either), his arch nemesis, was starting trouble up in Albany, Peter and his boys marched right up there, probably to the tune of “Back in Black,” and gave him the bare-knuckle business. Let’s just say Mr. Slechtenhorst didn’t have many words for him after that.

And Stuyvesant was a bit of a wunderkind, if you ask me. A refined individual, often found smoking a crisp Cuban at jazz-cat lounges in Haarlem or catching an early lunch at Delmonico’s with his buddies from de Waal Straat. I’ll tell you, this guy had more buzz about him in 17th century Holland than a tulip.

The only thing he was missing was an artisanal, handcrafted, genuine leather Gramercy Bag strapped over his shoulder as he strolled through downtown New Amsterdam. Now THAT would have really had the ladies saying, “Mijn woord, dat Gramercy tas maakt je mooier dan elke man die ik ooit heb gezien!” Unfortunately, due to the 400-year age difference, we are unable to provide Mr. Stuyvesant with the lifetime of smiles from beautiful women that comes standard with every Gramercy Bag. But fortunately, you’re alive now, and can capitalize on what Peter never had, putting you on an equal playing field. When you go off to govern the world’s next great city, you’ll be ready.