Daily Archives: March 8, 2008

Walking a Mile in a Younger Soul


Your Yoga post reminded me of a comment I had made to a friend while walking home from a book party at Housing Works last month. We were on Crosby street, after a night of 6-wording it with other “youngsters” and a late night drink at Balthazar, when I turned to one of my group and said, “Do you ever walk down a New York street and remember the first time you ever stepped foot on it?” I got a bunch of odd looks, so kept the rest of my thoughts to myself (perhaps it was a little too much for everyone to think about at 1 am), but I do think about it a lot.

Crosby Street was where I lost my innocence of freewheeling summers and part-time jobs at J. Crew and entered the “real people” working world. My first day and night of work happened to be on the spot I was standing. I can still feel the uncertainty of my 17-year-old self, attired in jeans, converse sneakers and a long-sleeve shirt, waiting for the rain truck to water down the street for our night shoot on the film “28 Days.” I didn’t have a clue as to what I was doing, but I was naive and enthusiastic enough that I wasn’t afraid of the consequences. Walking down that same cobblestone street nine years later, I wondered if I would have as much passion and sheer gall as I did at 17. I’d like to think I would, but after trading in the converse for the heels, I’m not entirely sure. istockphoto_284371_cobblestone_street_nyc.jpg

Later that night, I walked by Cowgirl on Hudson Street, where on that same film, I had lunch and frozen margaritas with a guy I thought I loved. I remember playing it cool, thinking it was entirely normal to be drinking margaritas during a work day afternoon with a 29-year-old man who I was “involved” with. Halfway through lunch, his 28-year-old girlfriend (the first I’d heard of her) happened to walk in after seeing us sitting in the restaurant window. Introductions went around, I looked at him, she looked at him and he remained as cool as that margarita saying, “Anna, meet my co-worker. She’s a great kid.” I was flushed both from the alcohol and embarrassment. I had gone from sharing my first real kisses and stolen moments with him, to suddenly become a head pat away from a “kid.” The last thing I remember is him paying the bill with our petty cash, throwing an arm around his girlfriend as they walked out together and turning back to casually ask me to cover for him since he was “ducking out” early. I forced out an “ok,” went in the bathroom and threw up.

The streets I walked down after Crosby and Hudson taught me much more. Cobblestones turned to smoother pavement in Times Square where I spent several five AM dates with a fellow PA (closer to my age) as we were opening the set and sharing laughter & stories over very strong cups of coffee. Stanton Street for a post-wrap party with an incredibly tender guy, whom I still think about and whose beautiful eyes will always haunt my dreams. And Noble Street in Brooklyn, where that same tender guy asked if he could kiss me, but first traced my lips with his fingers — making that kiss even more powerful. Alas, he moved West and I stayed East, continuing to pound the pavement.

But it is in those real world moments (that all started at 17), when New York streets briefly intersect and I learn how to navigate them, each one bringing me a step closer to becoming myself.


diamonds and fur

There’s something off-putting about wearing diamonds and a fur collar to an evening info session about a new school in Tanzania. Go I did, to one of my most favorites parts of your end of the island, Chelsea Market.

EMI hosted a gathering for people to learn about AfricaSchoolhouse.org

Geisha Gossip

hey DT,

I spent the day “working” in your part of town, on Union Square, jurying a selection of young activists. Impressive group overall.

The husband and I had dinner at Geisha this eve, easy saunter across the street amidst the downpour. We ate upstairs, he hadn’t been there but knows well the story of the 14-year old’s birthday party there earlier this year, replete with tatami room, henna artist and interaction with sushi chef who had a cameo role on gossip girl when it was filmed there last year…

The scene is funny. Most people are of a certain age, the “couple” of young”ish” women to our north spoke of their hampton’s rentals, interviewing for jobs at law-firms and not liking scallops, all the while I was eating scallops. They scooped their soup toward themselves. And the husband told me that my expectations are too high… this wasn’t in response to my lack of etiquette observations but because of my rants on the following:

upper east side pediatrician who 1. suggests that the 14 year old NOT become a doctor and 2. gives the girl a breast self-exam without any introduction, explanation or consideration

relocating to nyc without comparable living standards. Hard for me to fathom recruiting professionals and asking them to sacrifice one lifestyle for a lesser one, all in the interest of “community service.” sorry. I’m an ingrate. And I’m not really talking about our situation. I’m a bit homesick for the left coast, friends, garden, roses, yoga and all. Can’t help it. I’m referring, though, to situations that don’t really affect me. I should focus on my own stuff.

and then the dr asks why I get worked up – esp since the 14 yr old pointed out that what the dr. didn’t do doesn’t matter because she only has to see her once a year. AND of course, it behooves a mother to teach her child about good health. You’d think the dr. father would share the concept.

I’m staying uptown for the weekend. Hope you and the doggie are well. xo Ms.Justice