Fussin' and Concussin'

The speaker was a lot lower than I thought it was. I was climbing onto a stage with my camera to photograph a musician and mid-climb, I felt a thump I wasn't supposed to feel. I hit the top of my head on that speaker, since it was hanging in the air. It hurt for a second, but I couldn't concentrate on that because I had to get the shot! I definitely did, but afterward my head was hurting in an unusual way. I was...concerned, but I took some Advil and put ice on my head, and went to bed.

The next morning I was fine, but about 10 minutes to the end of a meeting my vision went a bit twisted and I felt a little dizzy. I ate breakfast and went to a clinic where I found out I had a mild (mild, mild, mild, mild) concussion and whiplash. I was advised rest and more Advil for the next two days. Thank RuPaul it wasn't any worse.

And those days dragged by. New York is wonderful until you feel you're missing out on all of the amazingness that's happening each day. If you're me, your skin begins to itch and your bones begin to ache and you just want to go outside. Or to a gallery. Or to the park. Or to anywhere that's not curled up on your bed watching the third episode of Elementary in a row eating day-old egg drop soup. That's not what New York is for!! you think to yourself. But none of your complaining will make your whiplash go away, or your head stop aching, or any of that jazz. So what do you do?

You get on with your life. You want to go outside? What's stopping you? I left the apartment and that first gust of cold air was invigorating. I wasn't suddenly better, but I felt like the pain in my neck was only, well, a pain in my neck. I went to the corner and got some Italian food. I bought some nail files and some paper towels and a mango juice and went home.

Sometimes you can't listen to what the doctors say.

My roommate had been on a similar house arrest since Wednesday, having been separated from his wisdom teeth that day. Confined to mashed potatoes, soup, and ice cream, he wasn't having too great a time, either.

I woke up this morning and did some work and I said, "Hey SC, do you want to go get some ice cream?" I didn't think he'd want to sit at home eating more of his Breyer's Coffee pint any more than I wanted to watch another episode of Elementary. I mean, they're both great, but that much in a row for three days can get a little ridiculous. He did, in fact, want to leave the confines of what felt like our self-imposed prison and share a super-healthy (haha) sundae with me.

We headed to Serendipity 3, that famed ice cream parlor I've written about on more than one occasion. We split a Strawberry Fields sundae, which included fresh strawberry ice cream with strawberry topping, homemade whipped cream, and a piece of cheesecake. It was the creamiest, most flavorful strawberry ice cream I've ever tasted. The frozen strawberries tickled my tongue. It is easily the best sundae I've ever had. And we sat at the table where two of the characters sit in the actual Serendipity movie with Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack.

Afterward, we took a brief pilgrimage to Bloomingdale's to poke around. SC had never been to either place before, so it felt good to not only get him (and myself) out of the house, but to share something I enjoyed with him.

Bed rest is important, sure, but taking care of yourself also includes allowing yourself to have fun. If it doesn't feel good, you can stop, but there's no reason to say you can't do it if you feel just fine. New York is too big and too wonderful for clouds of self-pity to hang over us. I often think it's the easy way out, too, but it's nowhere near as productive. As my mother says, pick yourself up by your bootstraps. And eat a damn sundae if you feel like it.

Ground(hog) Chuck

I meant to post this the week it happened, but got swept up in the the Fashion Week hullaballoo. Forgive me if it's a few weeks late, but I *had* to share this one.

If you had asked me last month what I'd be doing at 5:30am on the morning of Sunday, February 2, I would have said, "Uh, sleeping," then given you a look of death with one of my eyebrows raised. Then I probably would have said something like, "Um, real people don't get up that early on a Sunday for no reason," even though that's completely a generalization and I probably just wanted to be sassy with you. 

But "no reason" was not the reason I had in mind. My reason was to see the groundhog. At the Staten Island Zoo.

Thought #1: Isn't the groundhog in Pennsylvania?
Well, yes, there is *a* groundhog in Pennsylvania, but that's Phil. You know, Punxsutawny Phil. But there is another (and I'm sure there are more than just the two) and his name is Chuck. Apparently Chuck is 80% accurate at predicting the climate outcome of the next six weeks, where Phil is only 30%.

Thought #2: Staten Island has a zoo?
Yes. It's where Chuck lives. But I didn't know there was one there either until about four days before I went.

Thought #3: What?
DL posted on Facebook that surely he had some friends crazy enough to go with him. Since he had to for part of his job, he wanted some company. I took it as a personal challenge. Could I and would I do it?

That being said. This story really begins the night before, when RaGo and I stayed at a friend's birthday party until 1:30am. And then we got pizza til about 2am. And then I got home around 2:30am. I didn't so much "sleep" as take a 2.5 hour nap before I "woke up" the next "morning" at 5:30am to reapply my makeup and get my butt down to the Staten Island Ferry at 6am. And I made it to the terminal in plenty of time, though I was sure that if I closed my eyes I would fall asleep and the man who smelled like urine sitting just two seats away from would inexplicably come sit next to me. I could have gotten myself a caffeinated beverage of some kind, but water was all I could really muster--I was also sure, somehow, that if I ate anything I would be ill. "What on earth am I doing??" I kept asking myself. My eyes felt nailed open.

We boarded the ferry, and even though it was damn cold, it was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen, and that I will likely ever see again. Floating away from the city cloaked in darkness just as the sun is beginning to rise is an incomparable sight.

Eventually we found ourselves on Staten Island, in a cab on the way to the zoo with a New York Times photographer. There were a bunch of people headed there, apparently, but there were even more when we arrived. Mostly children on parents' shoulders--god bless those parents for getting up so early and getting their children ready for this event, children who are so at the moment appear so excited that this may well be the February equivalent of seeing Santa Claus. Though it was quite chilly, we were given free hot chocolate that tasted vaguely, delightfully of raspberries.

We were far in the back so I couldn't see much, but after much pomp and circumstance and Mayor DiBlasio dropping the poor groundhog, Chuck emerged from his cabin to tell us, much to our dismay, that there would be six more weeks of winter. "He's trying to kill us!" one child shouted, setting a wave of laughter off among the adults in the crowd. I understood his plight!

Once the crowd dissipated, I actually had the chance to see dear old Chuck. It occurred to me that I had never seen a real-live groundhog before, and frankly it looks like a furry mushroom cap. I squealed like a child when I was able to see his trainer feed him what looked like pieces of cheese, though. He'd nibble at them just like a squirrel. A children's band played rousing renditions of songs gone groundhog, like "Groundhog (nee Crocodile) Rock," etc.

Afterward we explored the zoo, which is said to be one of the best small zoos in the country. It had leopards and meerkats and monkeys and giant fish and alligators and bats and llamas and goats and swans and ostriches and I'm writing like this because being at a zoo sometimes reduces me to a wide-eyed 10 year-old and I was so excited! While 10 year-old me was having a blast hanging out with iguanas and toucans, 25 year-old me was wondering how the hell I was still awake.

All I could think to myself as we headed back to the ferry was "Challenge Accomplished." We had brunch, I came home, and fell asleep. Would I do it again? Probably not. But even though I didn't know "see a groundhog" was on my bucket list, I certainly crossed it off.

Backstage Business

Forgive me, dear readers, I have been lost in the delightful yet dangerous schlep that is Fashion Week. If you'd like to see what I've been up to, below are the links of show write-ups I've done along, as always, with some of my favorite photographs I took from the week. I also encourage you to read the funny, insightful little piece about the adventure that is Fashion Week by New York magazine's Kat Stoeffel, so boldly and brightly titled "Has Fashion Week Ruined Your Relationship?" Luckily, no relationships have been harmed in my partaking of this Fashion Week, but it does shed light on the trials, tribulations, and rewards this little week has to offer twice a year. So with that, I give you some fruit of my Fashion Week loins. Cheers, dahlings!

Written for Her Campus.com:
Nanette Lepore
Zero + Maria Cornejo
Dennis Basso
Tess Giberson
Lela Rose
Brandon Sun
Richard Chai LOVE

Selected photographs:

            

 

Winter White

As I've written before, it can be difficult for a South Florida girl to adjust to temperatures in the single digits. But it is what it is, and we've got our space heater at the ready. Plus, today, it's a bit more bearable because it's in the 20s instead of the teens, hooray! 

I did go outside and brave the depths of the "polar vortex" to take some pictures after the massive snowfall Tuesday night. There's something endearing about when the city receives a massive snowfall and puts on its winter whites. I imagine it like a woman wrapped in a luscious white fur strutting down Fifth Avenue in the 1920s, a sleek greyhound pulling, dart-like, in front of her. 

And then I remember that I can't feel my face and I wonder where my lips have gone to, so I hurry back inside. But it was pretty. Take a look at some of the sights!

At the Mercy of Hercules

I like visiting my family in Florida a lot, especially in the winter. I do not like it, however, when I have four flights out of Florida cancelled and end up getting back to New York almost a week later than I should have.

Such was the case after my life, and the lives of so many others (some people died!!), encountered the beast that was Winter Storm Hercules. Planes slid on icy runways, airports delayed flights hours upon hours, cancelled hundreds of flights, and shut down entirely. 

The feeling I had was the same one I would get when I would be home sick from school while something awesome was happening--sadness of missing out and not being able to do a single thing about it. Please, please get me back to my city! My life is waiting for me! I felt trapped for a day or two, and came down with a horrible case of FOMO (fear of missing out, for the uninitiated). Ultimately, though, I had little to complain about: a roof over my head, sunshine for a day or two, 70-degree weather...as opposed navigating snow-covered sidewalks and streets without snow boots in 1-degree weather in which one isn't supposed to stay outside for more than 15 minutes at a time. 

The first cancelled flight happened on Friday the 3rd. I was supposed to host an event I worked hard to develop and curate on Monday evening. There weren't supposed to be any flights until Tuesday, but I managed to find one for the next day, a connecting flight. It left from an airport an hour from my house. I got there with plenty of time and checked in for my flight, only to find after I checked in that the second leg of my flight had been canceled. I saw my nerves shriveling in front of me. Were there buses? Trains? Any flights, anywhere? The flight the airline had put me on for Monday connected in Detroit, and I was skeptical of making that connection. Hours later, huddled in front of the computer, I found one more flight, into White Plains, that would leave Monday morning at 6:45am, also at an airport an hour from my house. I booked it, not even caring that I would have to leave home at 3:30am just to be there to check in. And two hours later, it too was canceled. I would be missing my event, so I walked a team of people through how to host it (apparently it was a success, though, so hurray!).

And at that point, it felt like flights were being canceled for no reason. It was only raining in New York, and definitely above 30 degrees. It felt like no matter what flight I booked it would be canceled

Oh, and that flight connecting in Detroit was canceled, too. 

Nerves shot, I went out for a hamburger and fries. Fun fact: I love hamburgers. But that night, not even at a restaurant where the burgers where named after drag queens, could I enjoy myself. I kept thinking about what I could do, what mode of transportation I could take (the Pony Express?) to get myself back to New York at all, let alone by Monday.

I found the next possible flight out, for Thursday. I didn't even care about the date that point, I just needed to get back to New York. Just like for people, I save up a certain amount of time where I don't miss New York, where I just enjoy where I am. But after that time runs out, I wonder what else I could be doing, what I'm missing out on, what I need to be doing when I get back, and I get antsy. It's like I can't be away too long or, deprived of a life force, part of me starts to wither. One can only soak up the sun for so long! I joke, of course, and I don't mean to complain...but heaven's to Betsy, whoever that dame is, I am utterly relieved to be home. 

Top Great Moments I Didn't Write About But Should Have: 2013 Edition

As every year in publishing ends in a year's worth of listicles, so too does mine here at Miss Manhattan. Granted, I am in fact starting my year this way, but I like to use the beginning of the year as a time of reflection. So many moments come along that I want to write about but simply can't at a particular time, so I've selected a few of my favorites from the past year to share with you here. This is the second incarnation of such a list, my first being last year.

Get Published
I am fortunate enough to have been published in some amazing media outlets this past year. As I once said, it was a moment when I realized I had a career and not just a job. It's the stuff I moved to New York to do.

Here are some of them:
The New Yorker, Artforum, Glamour, New York Magazine, Bitch Magazine, Paper Magazine

And I got to interview the most recent winner of RuPaul's Drag Race!

I was also incredibly honored to have a photograph I took on the cover of Time Out New York's Summer Parties issue in mid-July.

Go Bhakti or Go Home
I had a wild night this past summer that began at a Bhakti Monastery and Community Center, the Bhakti Center, on 1st Street and 1st Avenue. Many thanks to RaGo, we attended a screening of the film Run, Lola, Run and participated in a discussion on the way the Vedic principles present themselves in the film. What I loved about this was not only the enlightening discussion and opportunity to learn about the Vedas, but that it was not at all dogmatic. It was simply a group of people discussing their beliefs and inviting me to listen, not begging me to convert. And frankly, all it was was a discussion on doing right by your fellow man, and I'm all for that, so it didn't bother me at all. It was followed by a delicious meal homemade by the monks (samosas! salads! pastas!) and a mingling session. And it was all free!

After that, RaGo, her friend and I made our way to The Blind Barber, a speakeasy in the back of a barbershop in the East Village. After a drink, I noticed a text from RE on my phone--he was in town for something like 16 hours, and since he normally resides on the West Coast, I was determined to see him. I raced uptown in a cab to 96th and Amsterdam, and there he was. We puttered around the area with a group of people, pausing briefly to dance at a very crowded bar that in between its live music session, featured a mix of top 40 and Prince tunes. But once the band started to play, we departed for Hell's Kitchen. We found ourselves at the Hourglass Tavern's upstairs Betti Bar with some of his friends. Soon, it was 2am, and RE departed to get something like 4 hours of sleep before heading back home at 6am.

I was just getting in a cab when AE rang my phone. He was in town visiting from Seattle, and we had just had the opportunity to reconnect after 8 years. I went to meet him at Links, a sausage and beer joint on the Lower East Side, where we hung out and talked some more until 4am. I thought I was going to pass out by the time I finally got in a cab. I heard birds chirping as I fell into my bed around 4:30. That's what nights in New York were made for.


Ailey Day
There are few more people I enjoy consuming culture with than DW. I had gotten free tickets to see the Alvin Ailey Dance Theatre's famous Revelations at Lincoln Center, and of course took him, my fellow dance and culture aficionado, with me. We sat and gaped at the amazing dancing (Ailey's "Sinner Man" is not to be believed, nor is Jiri Kylian's sassy, funny, sexy, smart "Petit Mort").

Afterward, DW took me to the wonderful Red Rooster Harlem, Marcus Samuelsson's gourmet Southern cooking restaurant. It was utterly sublime (and as I write that I am thinking the French pronunciation, "soo-bleem"): fried chicken and waffles with bourbon maple syrup, anyone? How nice it is to go out with a friend and enjoy a day at the theatre.

New Jersey
I will admit, I have a love-hate relationship with New Jersey. I find its suburban, culture-less presence irritating and fear for my life that I will one day end up living there. But, as much as I feel this way, I love visiting my friends' family homes--it's fascinating to see where people come from and everyone's homes are so beautiful in their own way. Such was the experience of visiting SJT's residence in South Plainfield. His family has an orchard in the backyard, bursting with pears, berries, veggies, and so much more. His father has a gorgeous old Dodge Dart in the driveway and a wild model train collection set up in his basement. His mother hangs clothes on the line outside, right above their roses. We made a lovely dinner and ate it while sitting on the porch, doing our best not to feed his dog Ginny (named for Gin and Tonics) any of our goodies. At the end of the evening, DW drove me to the train station and on the way we listened to Dylan's "Idiot Wind" and Kanye West's "Yeezus," opining our strong opines about each.

Cosmo Quiz
One of the world's great treasures must be when ladies have a beach day. Such was the day when AS and I decided to head to Manhattan Beach, near Brighton Beach in Brooklyn. She had never been before, so we met up at Union Square and got breakfast for the train ride. Then we stopped at the wonderful Brighton Bazaar for goodies, many of which she had never heard of and I enjoyed describing--they were mostly treats I had encountered because of my Russian/Eastern European background. We got ourselves a picnic lunch, complete with blintzes and potato salads and drinks and other goodies for a total of $15 (hardly something you'd ever be able to do in Manhattan.

Arriving on the beach, the very fair-skinned (or, as she laughs, "beach disabled") AS set up her beach umbrella and I generously applied my SPF 4. Partway through the afternoon, we decided to start taking the very inane Cosmo Quizzes, quizzes from the famous women's magazine, on her phone, and laughing hysterically at the results: Do you put your career first? Yes? You're the kind of girl that can't wait to get hitched! What? Young sorta-feminists taking hyper-feminine quizzes on the beach will of course end the escapade in laughter.

Gallery Hop
As MDP taught me this past September, it's wildly fun to go gallery hopping when all of the galleries have their openings--they're usually on the same night, a Thursday, and they all have wine and beer for visiting guests. We went from Philip-Lorca diCorcia's amazing Hustlers exhibition at the David Zwirner Gallery (at which I found myself in the company of the New York magazine's art critic Jerry Saltz and Elle Magazine Fashion News Director Anne Slowey) to the Steven Kasher Gallery's Warhol Love Indiana photo series. MDP's boss, a famous photographer, happened to be there and invited us to attend the opening of the FIT's Queer History of Fashion exhibition. It was raining so we hopped in his car and drove, talking about photography along the way. While there we took in utterly cool exhibition (including but not limited to leather harnesses, an all-pink sailor suit, and other visions of gender-bendy goodness), we sipped wine and milled about the space. Yours truly may or may not have posed under an urn of rainbow colored feathers, modeling them as if they were a hat.

After that, I had the pleasure of introducing MDP to the deliciousness of The Meatball Shop in Chelsea,  and of the alcoholic milkshakes at the Olive Tree Cafe. It was an evening of unexpected delights, to say the very least.

Thicker Than Water
I am often in awe of the people I am fortunate enough to call my friends, though this time I mean specifically Scott Wasserman and Shannon Deep. The duo have composed a new musical play called Thicker Than Water, in which a young man meets his birth mother for the first time. It is entirely sung-through, composed by Scott with lyrics by Shannon. They did a beautiful job of making a complicated story interesting and engaging, and at their first workshop at Ripley-Grier Studios, I was on the edge of my seat, wanting--nay NEEDING--to know what happened after Act I. We went out for empanadas and margaritas afterward. I am utterly spellbound by their genius and am excited to see where it goes next.

Remembering Lou
I found out about the Lou Reed memorial at Lincoln Center less than 12 hours before it happened, via Twitter. The immense talent passed away at the end of October, and in the middle of November a tribute was held at the Paul Milstein Pool and Terrace at Lincoln Center. It was a simple setup, by Lincoln Center's standards, anyway: two massive, high-end speaker set up at the end of the park near the performing arts library, and rows upon rows of chairs. People stood and talked, they nodded to the music, they sat and thought about the great man rock and roll had lost. Salman Rushdie wore a Yankees cap and took videos on his iPhone. It was nice to see so many different kinds of people coming together to honor and listen to him. "Sweet Jane" played and the cold bit my nose. I kept saying I would only stay for five more minutes, five more minutes, five more minutes...

Window Shopping III

Every year I've gone to see them, department store Bergdorf Goodman proves to me their holiday windows are the only ones worth seeing. While I didn't have the pleasure last year, my trip this year reminds me of how silly it is to miss them. In case you didn't know, the famed store spends all year planning their holiday windows and 15 days installing them, with a staff of over 100 people from beginning to end (for more Bergdorf's windows, or #BGWindows, facts, click here!). This year, the theme for their 5th Avenue windows was "Holidays on Ice," featuring icy interpretations of Halloween, Valentine's Day, Arbor Day, Independence Day, New Year's Eve, Groundhog Day, April Fool's Day, and more! Take a look at some of my photos of the gorgeous installations here: