Carlos Suarez designed his trendy European restaurant Bobo to have a homey, old-world feel: Situated in a West 10th Street townhouse, it’s decorated with books, photos, and other elegant tchotchkes. But some diners are apparently treating it too much like home: They’ve been pocketing Suarez’s knickknacks, he says. He wasn’t too bothered when patrons made off with copies of Laren Stover’s Bohemian Manifesto or Saul Bellow’s Seize the Day, and was only slightly troubled when his cousin’s old copper piggy bank vanished from a bookshelf. But last week, someone made off with a photo of a beautiful woman in fifties Havana, and Suarez was angry: It was a picture of his grandmother. “She was wearing a Champagne-colored dress and was quite glamorous,” he says. “I don’t expect everyone to be on his best behavior, but this is a little creepy.” His whole family is upset, he said, but he’s making other plans: “If things continue to go missing, I’m going to have to glue them down.”
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