Several slim, handsome, vital young men, dressed in autumnal greys, emerge from a grey, urban background. Each appears to be intensely preoccupied, as if heading for a compelling event, or tryst, and yet as if he were accustomed to, and expected to be involved in such matters. The text overlaid at the bottom succinctly reads, "DKNY Men".

A denim-clad female model wriggles around restlessly in a seemingly empty room. She tugs at her waistband, wiggles her exposed toes, and playfully caresses herself and the wall, showing brief flashes of sub-navel skin. Although alone in her two-dimensional world, she seems to invite anonymous viewing.

It's an early Sunday morning in 1985. You're in your local diner doing the Sunday Times crossword. A man at the next table has a Nat Sherman cigarette in his mouth, unlit. He takes out what looks like a change purse, opens it, and a large flame shoots out. He lights his cigarette, closes the purse and sips his coffee as you return to 55 down. He leans over and says, "a mystery is better than a puzzle, don't you think?".

You're riding the subway late at night. You're troubled, uncertain. A well-dressed man walks over as the train pulls into the next station. He says, "When it's all on the line, and you need to decide, don't be afraid - pull the trigger!" You stare as he strides purposefully onto the platform.