tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14962261224680619962024-03-13T16:19:57.863-04:00Miss ManhattanStep 1: Move to New York.
Step 2: Have experiences.miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.comBlogger452125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-65784041153300085742022-06-05T19:18:00.001-04:002022-06-05T19:18:10.379-04:00Brenda Vaccaro I’m pretty sure it’s her. There’s a short woman with a big smile and a newly fluffed red ‘do walking out of a salon on Broadway. She waves to the car waiting for her and for a split second my chest tightens. I want to ask, “Are you Brenda Vaccaro?” but if there’s anything I’ve learned about bumping into celebrities on the street it’s that they don’t want to speak to anyone they don’t already miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-87147790151303928102022-04-04T16:52:00.006-04:002022-04-04T16:52:48.886-04:00RevivalsOver the course of 31 days in March I managed to both maim myself and contract a virus (not COVID) that led to me being house-bound for more days than I care to remember. While I passed most of the time with movie musicals from the 1950s which I loved, I would have much preferred to be gallivanting around my beloved five boroughs with a beautiful cup of shitty bodega coffee, feasting my eyes on miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-63503094568943247552022-03-07T14:01:00.006-05:002022-03-07T14:01:38.902-05:00Small MagicThere’s this glimmer of hope again, where with the imminent arrival of spring it feels like we are all collectively, slowly but surely, literally and metaphorically, removing ourselves from our caves and returning to the sunlight. It’s a wild 60-something degrees today and I am wearing shorts for the first time in months. I’m eager to push my jeans to the back of my closet, though I know the miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-87538175471886263962022-02-07T15:59:00.007-05:002022-02-07T15:59:54.678-05:00For Mom and Bloomingdale's Well, it’s been a while. Some things have happened. But I’ll try to be back with a little more regularity.On any given Sunday when I have nothing to do, I go to Bloomingdale’s. It’s a rare occasion that I actually need something, and I’m far more inclined to window shop my way through all of the department store’s floors wondering what it might be like to own silk nightgowns or studded stilettos miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-16932416698485694212021-09-13T11:26:00.003-04:002021-09-13T13:04:17.947-04:00Some QueensOn a Saturday evening, I am standing on Wall Street, of all places, talking to my mother. My skin is warm from the beach, still glossed with sunscreen despite a ferry ride, and there’s sand in my neon green platform shoes. At this place no one goes unless they are a tourist or going to work, its cobbles under my feet, I am clutching my forehead as my mother gasps for air and tells me for the miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-2396618871968738732021-08-02T16:34:00.003-04:002021-08-02T16:34:46.491-04:00RitualI have a ritual now. When I finish a chapter, or need a mental health day, I take myself to the beach during the week. While it seems like a run of the mill exercise, for a person like me who has to will herself to stop working and take a break for her own sanity, it requires planning, effort, and a willingness to take time off. I have to feel like I’ve earned it, which I’m sure has its own miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-76649752155153620442021-06-07T16:36:00.015-04:002021-06-07T16:47:01.320-04:00AwakeningsA magical thing happened last week: my schedule started to fill up with meetings and events, real life, in-person spaces in my days and evenings I will be dedicating to being with other people outside of my house. If you had told me a year and a half ago I would be so joyful for such a thing--well, I don't know if I wouldn’t have believed you because that is always what I moved to New York for. Imiss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-59912952761609480602021-05-03T13:25:00.001-04:002021-05-03T13:25:30.181-04:00Small JoysA thin, crispy crepe filled with fresh strawberries two days in a row because I have learned crepes have far fewer calories than I ever dreamed. Hannah’s gold mules. Finding out the tingling in my arms and legs is not a blood clot after being sent to the hospital by Urgent Care. Taking myself to breakfast at Green Kitchen afterward, loading up on lean proteins and vegetables and green tea to miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-4144233696678753382021-04-04T13:53:00.009-04:002021-04-05T18:48:50.603-04:00"7 Questions"Last month, The New York Times published a piece called "7 Questions, 75 Artists, 1 Very Bad Year," surveying artists about the work they made in the pandemic. I am often at odds with the idea of calling myself an artist. Sometimes I think it’s something only other people should call you and taking on the moniker is an act of self-aggrandizing pretension--I feel similarly about people who call miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-38238227287844033572021-03-01T17:54:00.002-05:002021-03-01T17:54:17.056-05:00“Cool” and NowThere was a Saturday in February when I tried to remember everything I thought was cool 10 years ago. I walked the East Village, weaving my way in and out of stores bearing everything from boldly colored scarves to Thai hand salve to photography books I’ll never be able to afford. I gripped my leather jacket tighter around me because, after nearly 11 years in this town I still haven’t learned howmiss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-55268732202357822522021-02-01T18:16:00.002-05:002021-02-01T18:16:19.387-05:00Wintry Mix III promised myself when I started working on my book that I wouldn’t work weekends. I know how I can get, and if I didn’t set a boundary for myself, I’d just keep going and burn myself out (like I’ve done many times before). So my presence here has been, to say the least, more intermittent. It’s hard to sit down in front of the computer when I don’t have to and when I’m not supposed to be working,miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-79241285408645765402020-12-06T15:45:00.012-05:002020-12-06T17:12:56.354-05:0032The day I turn 32, I take a self-portrait then weave my arms through my t-shirt of David Bowie’s mugshot and into a jacket that looks like I skinned Elmo. It is a Tuesday, Election Day, and I have resolved to spend the day as I wish, which thus far includes bundling myself up tight and heading downtown on the ferry. On the top deck, I tie my hair up so it doesn’t become one giant knot and the miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-33327035830958455092020-11-02T13:13:00.006-05:002020-11-02T13:13:50.062-05:00Morsels IIWriting about food and drink makes me happier than I realized.Before Hannah and I meet for cocktails at four o’clock on a Sunday, I sidle up to Everyman Espresso in the East Village. In the Before Time, it was my home base, where I was enough of a regular that the baristas greeted me with smiles, knew my coffee order (milk and two Splendas, please), and asked how I’ve been. They didn’t get miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-36969807818659721372020-10-04T18:40:00.000-04:002020-10-04T18:40:06.471-04:00MorselsThe last time I saw Julia, a man took our picture with a Polaroid camera and said the bright white of the flash would dissipate from our faces after it developed. He lied, maybe not on purpose, but he did. In it, we look like two friendly ghosts. We kept waiting for it to get darker as we ate pizza and salad in Crown Heights after a gig of hers at The Owl on Rogers Avenue, but it never did. The miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-10633462220021635212020-07-30T21:52:00.004-04:002020-07-31T11:39:07.107-04:00Ten YearsTruthfully, I didn’t notice until about 5pm. In the flurry of our global nonsense, I often forget what day and date it is, constantly having to remind myself as I look into the nearest calendar. When I realized, a small smile crept across my face, as if I had earned a badge, leveled up, added a bullet point to my resume. As of today, I have been in New York for 10 years. This year is not what anymiss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-81780556313799294752020-05-02T22:32:00.001-04:002020-05-02T23:07:16.866-04:00BodegaThe more I traveled the U.S., the more I noticed there was a particular facet of existence in New York I found more special each time I came home and even more special now: the bodega. This corner shop, catch-all of anything you could need at any odd hour of the day, has been to me and countless other New Yorkers the bearer of everything from dishwashing liquid to bananas to ramen noodles to miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-20193706198334978022020-04-05T21:43:00.003-04:002020-04-05T21:43:42.386-04:00How Are You?The other day I was going through an old stack of New York Magazines. I came across their annual ‘Reasons to Love New York’ issue and for a few seconds some tears dripped from the corners of my eyes. People had been listing their favorite restaurants in the city, their beloved spots for late-night food or sandwiches or what have you. Many of them I had never been to, but there were also several Imiss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-86382765581739613192020-03-08T22:26:00.003-04:002020-10-08T16:30:09.672-04:00A Book DealThe first time I said anything about it was to AR as we walked to see the Dyker Heights Christmas lights in December 2017. We had Chinese food and got cannolis to eat, and they clunked inside their white cardboard box tied with string. I remember how cold my hands and face were. I had had the idea for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, and AR was the first person I told out loud. I knew if I saidmiss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-40401938493445449682019-12-31T16:16:00.000-05:002019-12-31T16:52:13.674-05:00The Tops: 2019In celebration of the end of 2019, a list of a few work things I did this year that made me especially proud. Enjoy!Photograph Magazine:Elle Peréz and the Power of RepresentationAn introduction to the work of photographer for the magazine's September/October 2019 issue.- The magazine reached out and asked me to write an introduction to the work of photographer for the magazine's September/miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-72039206990215612892019-12-10T23:19:00.000-05:002019-12-10T23:22:39.964-05:00Burnout // HawaiiToward the end of September, I needed a nap. But not just one nap, it seemed, multiple naps per day. I couldn’t sit in front of my computer and work for more than an hour and a half at a time for several days in a row. My sleep was erratic, I definitely wasn’t eating properly, and there were days where I couldn’t will myself to get out of bed at all. I developed fevers periodically that would miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-66719231679100240742019-10-29T23:30:00.002-04:002019-10-29T23:32:51.620-04:00MistWhen I moved to New York, I put my wide-leg jeans in the back of my closet, marrying my legs to the skinnies that were de rigeur almost 10 years ago. The wide-legs have gone in and out this last decade, and they’re back again, with everyone’s body pretending it’s 1978 all over again. I’ve periodically felt like someone’s out of date grandmother when I’ve worn them, but not today. They hung over miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-73792296744455308312019-10-08T21:31:00.003-04:002019-10-08T21:34:47.466-04:00GlittergasmThe annual glittergasm festivities of Bushwig and the New York Burlesque Festival graced the city last month. I had the joy of being present for both with my camera.
Bushwig
New York Burlesque Festival
miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-67939442203502884712019-09-11T22:30:00.002-04:002019-09-11T22:31:44.936-04:00SandwichIt’s about 9:30 on a Wednesday night and the last hints of steam are rising up out of the concrete. Fresh from a rain or just the humidity, the concrete glistens. It’s like a send-off to summer, even though technically the “end” of summer was last week, on Labor Day. But somehow, the weather was a trippy 89 degrees today, and I’m not quite sure what that means for the rest of the week or the miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-46557775659026441982019-07-11T23:27:00.000-04:002019-07-12T11:39:22.134-04:00Have Some MoreOur bowls of pasta arrived sometime recently, but I don’t remember because time began slowing once our broccoli rabe appetizer, accented with strips of crispy pancetta, arrived at our table.
I am with my friend NE, human glitter, a poet who brims with shine and sparkle and intellect and knows how to appreciate joy and pleasure in big and small bites. We will be having dinner at Fiaschetteria miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496226122468061996.post-42165120663909236932019-07-03T21:22:00.004-04:002019-07-05T12:19:03.956-04:00Mermaids and HonsScenes from Baltimore's National Aquarium and Honfest and Brooklyn's Mermaid Parade
miss-manhattanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08071369574276807859noreply@blogger.com0