Models and Mortals

You know when you’re getting ready for the day in your bathroom, and the mirror nearly rattles off the wall because there is construction literally 15 feet outside your apartment?

Or when you are enjoying a rare, blissful silence at 6am and a child from the 7th floor is screaming repeatedly with no apparent consequences or regard for the other families housed in your building?

Or how about when you’re waiting for your train, lost in your headphones and thoughts, and you realize the movement you saw out the corner of your eye was not a trick of the light, but a giant rat deciding you are not threatening enough to keep far away from?

Or even when you are packed body to body at 8am in a small area, smelling someone’s morning breath and wondering how in the world someone could leave their home without brushing their teeth?

Most of you are probably thinking, “No, I don’t know what any of that is like, but how humorous!”

The rest of you, live in New York and know exactly what I’m talking about.

 

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Rush Hour.

 

These are all minor prices to pay though, when you get to live in New York in the Springtime. The arctic blasts of wind disappear (mostly), and the brown slush covered city melts into a buzzing, pulsing, sweaty, colorful place. New York in the spring is the New York in the movies, the New York you dream about when you imagine making it in a big city, the New York that you actually feel good about living in.

It looks a little like this: every tree is covered in blossoms. Purple, white, pink, and green blossoms transform the once barren branches with trash bag flags into gorgeous icons of a city spring. The air is thick with moisture and the smell of lilacs (with a hint of garbage, let’s be real), and patios are filled with stylish people drinking chilled white wine. People are smiling again. Laughing children race on their scooters, cool kids smoke weed on their brownstone stoops, and couples are content sitting on a park bench and simply watching life happen around them. There are dance-offs in the square, ice cream trucks on every corner, and music all around you at all times. You almost don’t mind the constant dampness of your clothes, because there are hundreds of people around sweating it out right there with you. The streets take on an almost magical light with the sunlight filtering in through the new leaves, as if you’re staring at the world through your favorite Instagram filter.  It’s truly nothing short of extraordinary, whether you’re in the yet-to-be gentrified areas of Brooklyn or the posh streets of Greenwich Village, Spring makes it all beautiful.

 

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Madison Square Park

 

The past few months I’ve done SO many things, so many I feel overwhelmed to even try to tell you about all of them. So here are the highlights.

Prospect Park. Our dog Marshall enjoyed his first off-leash experience, got hissed at by swans, and went hiking for the first time since leaving Colorado. It’s large and beautiful, and much more low key than Central Park.

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Circo’s Pastry Shop in Bushwick delivered the best damn pastries I’ve ever had, in an adorable box tied with string, and the fact that I could have authentic Italian pastries delivered to my door made it all the more delicious.

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Couture Du Jour. One of the best perks of being a dog walker is, you discover so many hidden shops tucked away under a stairwell or down tiny streets. I found this little basement vintage clothing shop in Hell’s Kitchen, and it’s FILLED with treasure. One of a kind jewelry pieces, designer gowns, dresses, pantsuits, coats, hats, and shoes. If you’re like me and are constantly looking for clothes that will make you feel like Grace Kelly, this is the place for you. I found an adorable summer dress from the 1940’s that is absolute perfection when paired with red lipstick.

Boris & Horton. NYC’s first and only dog-friendly coffee shop. It’s adorable, clean, and there are dogs everywhere. There is a human-only area and a dog-friendly area. There is a photo booth, dog treats, toys, leashes, and doggie fashion. Really, it might be the best place on earth.

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Marshall’s sweet new bandana

 

Coney Island. Recently one of my best friends visited from Colorado, and we spent an entire day drinking tequila, playing games, riding rides, and walking the boardwalk. Since it was still a little chilly out, it wasn’t too crowded and there were no lines for food or rides. It feels like such a classic place, hot dog stands, carnival rides, and seagulls flying overhead and shitting on your french fries. Heaven on earth.

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The West Village. Delicious food, the best coffee, street art, psychics, dance clubs, cobblestone streets, iconic brownstones, and home to the Friends apartment. I recently had my palm read by a psychic in the village and it’s definitely an experience I’d recommend, even if you don’t believe in that stuff. It’s just something you should do while you’re there. Also, she told me I’d be coming into some money and doing some international traveling by the end of the year, so I feel inclined to support this.

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The Friends apartment

 

Exploring. Everyone should have a friend that is braver than they are, that feeds you courage. I have such a friend here (Love you, Taylor), and some of my favorite memories and NY adventures have been with her. One night we met up for drinks at a dive bar called Welcome to the Johnson’s. It looked decrepit on the outside, and you’d likely never find it if you weren’t looking for it. They serve cheap beer out of a fridge, have Mean Girls playing on a tiny television, and a crowd that makes you feel like you are definitely not cool enough to be in there. Like, leather pants and guy-liner kind of cool. After a few drinks there, we went on a mission to find a place to dance. The internet was failing us, and just as we were about to give up, we see a long line outside of what looks like a closed bank. We had no idea what these people were in line for, but we needed to find out.

After waiting about 20 mins, we were ushered into a dark room, and lead through a hallway that forked. A room full of people dancing to heart-thudding music to the left and right. We were told to go into the room on the left, the room on the right was VIP. After a few shots of liquid courage in the room of mere mortals, my friend decided we needed to know if the VIP room was better. We went back into the hall and stood in line for the bathroom, which happened to be next to the VIP room entryway. We innocently chatted with the other people in line, used the restroom, and waited for the bouncer to look the other way. At exactly the right moment, my friend grabbed my hand, and we RAN down the flight of stairs leading to the mysterious VIP room, the booming and terrifying shouts of “HEY YOU CANT GO IN THERE! LADIES! HEY!” fading away behind us. We dove into the dancing crowd and slipped into sweet, sweaty anonymity. It was packed, the flashing purple lights illuminated a room full of the privileged, designer-clad people who belonged there. I didn’t exactly blend in with the model-type girls in my jeans and Hufflepuff t-shirt, but alcohol made me feel like it was okay. We ordered drinks, danced our hearts out to 2 songs, and realized this room really wasn’t any better than the previous. I wish I could regale you with tales of celebrity sightings and VIP treatment, but getting into that room was the peak of excitement. We decided to call it a night, we had accomplished our mission. We sheepishly climbed back up the stairs to face the bouncer we had tricked. “You ladies are not getting back in there,” he said angrily. My friend smiled her bright smile and said, “Okay, have a great night! Bye!” and out we went.

Those are the highlights, dear readers. There are still stories left untold from my months of silence, but some things are better to keep sacred to your own memory. Until next time, xoxo.

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