There's a certain rhythm to Frank Thorpe's day.
He shows up at Nick & Eddie's, or at J.D. Hoyt's Supper Club, to help prep for the crowds and the orders of beef Wellington or lobster tacos.
And then, about 4 o'clock, he walks home to start his performance. Some nights, he slips into a mismatched plaid suit with a waffling pattern and jaunty butterfly lapels. Or it might be a skin-tight snakeskin kind of night. Accessories might include a lady's pink dress jacket, a pair of slip-on Vans in primary colors or a pirate's hat. And then, it's back to work as the floor manager/maitre'd, to ask, "Party of two?" and seat the bemused customers.
"The first time I met him, I think he was wearing a pencil-thin waiter's mustache he had drawn on with Magic Marker," says Megan Kampa, a server at In Season restaurant and Thorpe's long-time girlfriend.
Over the years (and he's been doing this for years), Thorpe has developed a kind of cult following among Minneapolis restaurant diners, who look around upon entering his restaurant du jour and asking, "Is Frank working?"
"If I'm going to one of his places, it's the first thing," says Robert Stephens, the founder of Geek Squad and frequent restaurant-goer. "I have to see what Frank has on. Must. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I've had trying to dream up companies I can invent just so I can put Frank Thorpe at the front desk."
Stephens and others say it's best not to try to seek him out, but to let Thorpe appear out of the fashion ether, like a surprise Chloe Sevigny sighting. Depending on the night, he's at J.D. Hoyt's or Nick and Eddie's, or nowhere at all. Former haunts have included Heidi's, Cave Vin and (now closed) Pane Vino Dolce.
Co-workers attest to the fact that Thorpe is completely mellow about his fashion choices, as if were the most natural thing in the world to wear a pirate hat to work.