The City Is Mine

Today, I had one of those lovely, perfect New York moments. 

The weather is (finally!) warm, so after work, I strolled toward Columbus Circle. The sun was still shining, the fountains were going, and the flowers seemed more vibrant than I’d seen in a long time. I started my walk home along Central Park South, feeling enamored with the park, in awe of the Plaza Hotel, and practically skipping when I came to the mini-Strand bookstore on 5th Avenue. I literally took a moment to stop, take a deep breath, and think Man, I love this city. 

By the way, you read that right: I did say my walk home along Central Park South. I recently moved; While the island will always have a special place in my heart, I felt for awhile that after four years, I was ready for a change. And no sooner had I made the decision to find my own place than the perfect, unexpected 1 bedroom fell into my lap. So, it’s official: I’m an Upper East Sider now. Just call me the brown Serena van der Woodsen. 

My friend and fellow brown Upper East Sider and I have been plotting how to rally our friends this summer and make it a point to take in all the many things this city has to offer. I admit, I’m often afflicted with a case of Grass is Always Greener, falling into daydreams of  my other city-love, Paris, or other ‘hoods across the globe I’ve yet to discover. But the truth is, there’s a truly amazing city right outside my door, and my wonder and amazement today reminded me of that. So here’s to a summer to remember—I can’t wait to share whatever this great city has in store. 

I Can See Clearly, Now

If you’re cursed (or blessed, depending on how you look at it) with not-so-perfect vision, you know it can be tough to find the right glasses for your face shape—especially if you’re looking for a pair that won’t break the bank. 

Since the 7th grade (when I slowly but surely realized I couldn’t see what my teachers were writing on the chalkboard) I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect frames. I’ve tried every four-eyed variety there is: There were the gold wire-rims I’d rather forget, the too-cool-for-school brown cat eyes, and the Armani black rectangulars. While I usually only wear spectacles on the weekends (I’m nearsighted, so they aren’t necessary when I sit at a computer all day, and I’ve never been able to tolerate contacts without wanting to scratch my eyes out) I was ready for a change that fit my New Yorker persona.

So that’s where Warby Parker came in. The eyewear company (named after two of writer Jack Kerouac’s characters) was founded by four dudes who believe that the typical $300+ price tag of trendy eyeglasses is ridiculous. Now, they offer a collection of vintage-inspired, geek-chic frames, all for $95. And the best part? For every pair sold, they give a pair to someone in need—and with nearly 1 billion people who lack access to eyeglasses, there are a lot of people in need.

When a co-worker told me about the company a couple of years ago, what caught my attention was their at-home try-on program: Pick out five frames you like, and WP ships them to you to try-on at home, for free. Once you decide, you supply the Rx either by entering the info yourself, scanning it, or having your doctor call WP. 

After various try-ons, I ended up picking the Bensen style in Olivewood. I’m a bit of a magazine editor cliche in them with their thick, square-round mashup, but hey, I might as well embrace my inner nerd, right? For more on Warby Parker, check ‘em out. And if you don’t need prescription glasses, they’ve got stylish sunnies, too. 

The Pizza Chronicles, Part 1

 

I love pizza.

I know, this isn’t really a revelation. I mean, who doesn’t? But seriously, one of my ultimate comfort foods is a New York-style, sizzling hot, dripping, tasty slice of pizza. Unfortunately, said bit of heaven does not fit hand in hand with my slim-and-trim for Spring plan.

However, when I’m feeling naughty between workouts and carb-free life (sigh) and I decide to treat myself, I know exactly where to go. Fortunately for my taste buds (and unfortunately for my diet) it just so happens that my favorite slice comes from Mariella’s Pizza, which is right by my job. It’s classically New York: Huge, with just the right cheese-sauce-crust ratio. Simply perfection. And don’t get it twisted: I like my pizza NY style. Perhaps when I venture to Italy in 2014 with my girlfriends, I’ll discover that I like real Italian pizza, but for now I’ll take mine ginormous and cheesy, per favore.

But declaring your favorite slice in this city is a pretty bold statement, and there are many out there that I have yet to try. A close second so far is the original pie at Patsy’s Pizzeria. But with so many left on my to-try list, I just had a thought: Why not go on a pizza tour of the city in search of my ultimate #1? I mean, for the sake of my blog, of course. I can sacrifice some carbs and cheese for a good story, right?

Ok, personal challenge accepted. So, stay tuned—ooey, gooey pizza deliciousness is coming your way.

 

The Curious Case of Writer’s Block

photo © Calvin and Hobbes

I haven’t been writing. I could blame it on the whirlwind of life after turning 25: A promotion at work, trips home to Maryland, surviving Hurricane Sandy, the holidays, a Ravens Superbowl Win (!).

But if I’m being honest, I’ve had a horrible, dire case of writer’s block. It’s a pretty strange concept for me; My entire life, I’ve written. I wrote stories and plays as a kid, poetry as a high schooler, essays in college and the beginnings of many (admittedly bad) novels after graduation. And I’ve been a blogger since high school, and since then I’ve blogged and blogged and blogged, up until…I just stopped.

According to my self-diagnosis, the cause of my illness is that I’m now doing lots of writing for work. And don’t get me wrong, I am loving it—I’m living the American writer’s dream of getting paid to brainstorm and write and edit, and it’s great fun. But by the time I get home and want to put some thoughts down just for me, all the ideas and creativity have been soaked up.

My condition got so bad that I decided to check out the Gotham Writer’s Creative Writing Workshop one Saturday last month. It was brilliant: Someone giving me innovative assignments that inspired me to finally bring to life all the characters that run around in my head.

During our lunch break, I walked around the neighborhood and came across the Church of St. Francis Xavier. It’s a breathtaking, baroque-style church, and the architecture was so stunning that I had to peek inside. I was surprised to catch sight of a bride, fluffing up her white veil with her left hand, a bouquet of red roses in her right, before the doors closed. Through the glass, I could see a procession of bridesmaids in scarlet dresses making their way down the aisle in front of her, and next to her, a silver-haired man in a black tuxedo raised his hand to wipe away a tear.

It was the kind of New York moment I instantly knew I’d never forget—and it also made me desperately miss my blog. It reminded me that there are too many fantastic things happening every minute in this city, and that I want to share as many of them here as I can. So, I’ve decided, the treatment for said case of writer’s block shall be: Just freakin’ blog, already. I’m back and ready to write. For real, this time. See you soon.
xx AGD

Paris vs New York

Now that the shenanigans of summer are over, I’ve promised myself I will blog at least once a week. So get ready, full-on post coming soon. In the meantime, I came across this adorable video that I thought I’d share for my fellow lovers of two of the world’s greatest cities.

The View from (beneath) the Eiffel Tower

Yes, I haven’t posted since I’ve returned from Paris. Yes, I’m also in denial that I’m no longer in Paris. I’ve been back in New York for a month now, and I’m still obsessing over the experience. It was so different from anything I’ve ever experienced. I know it sounds dramatic, but I feel like my short time there reshaped my sensibilities in so many ways. From what outfit I put on in the morning to what I watch and read, the city has really impacted me. Basically, all the romance and whimsy that writers, filmmakers and artists have talked about for centuries? I totally get it now.

It seems an impossible task to write about the trip in one short blog post, but I’ll do my best by highlighting my favorite things about Paris:

The Eiffel Tower (duh). A few weeks before I left, I dreamed about seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time. When I actually saw it in person—peeking from the trees as we walked toward the Champs de Mars—my heart literally stopped. I was speechless. It was a weird sense of déjà vu from my dream, combined with pure awe. As we walked closer, the light show began. My heart literally started beating a mile a minute and I got teary eyed. (I know, this post is full of over-dramatics. Just roll your eyes and stick with me.) I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that’s taken my breath away like that. And the best part? I thought that nothing could compare to its evening luminescence, but when we saw it a few days later in daylight, I was just as dazzled. Remember when Adriana in Midnight in Paris said to Gil, “I can never decide whether Paris is more beautiful by day or by night”? Word.

The architecture. Ever since I took a river tour of Chicago two years ago, I’ve never looked at cities the same way. I’ve become a bit of an architecture nerd, trying to identify the styles that I recognize wherever I go. From baroque to art nouveau, I was in awe of how constructions from centuries ago are still such a major part of Paris. There’s so much attention to detail—from the Arc de Triomphe to the apartment balconies—and every bit of it embodied the glamour I’d always associated with the city.

Shakespeare & Co. The storied bookstore where some of my favorite authors—also known as “The Lost Generation” (Ernest Hemingway, Scott Fitzgerald, T.S. Eliot)—used to hang out back in the day. Well, technically, they used to hang out at a bookstore not far from there, but it was shut down during World War II, and the one we visited is its reincarnation. A dusty, dimly lit bookstore full of history, rare books and a reading nook dedicated to Sylvia Beach? I just about fainted. They even stamped the books I purchased with an official S&C stamp! I left there brimming with writing ideas and dying to dive in to the books I’d gotten. (Currently reading “The Paris Wife,” a brilliantly written story from the fictional perspective of Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley. Love.)

Taste-testing macarons. While it was pure eye-candy just looking at the colorful displays of macarons in bakery windows, my favorite was the plain-old vanilla from Ladurée. Simple, yet decadent. Parfait.

…and taste-testing croissants. Impossibly buttery and soft, they smelled and tasted like absolute heaven. It was the best way to start the day almost every day we were there. I will never eat an American croissant again.

Le histoire! Paris has such a unique and interesting history, and it was great fun paging through our guidebooks before and after each day to learn the story behind the sights we saw. Everything from the Louvre, with its historic artwork and unique story (12^th century royal palace turned most-visited museum in the world) to the Notre Dame cathedral was a history lesson, and we learned lots of fun facts along the way. Like, did you know that Napoleon wanted to impress his second bride-to-be so badly, he had a replica of the Arc de Triomphe built for their wedding because the real one wasn’t ready yet? Or that icons like Audrey Hepburn and Coco Chanel used to sip chocolat chaud l’africain (THE most delicious hot chocolate you will EVER taste) at Angelina, a 110-year-old teashop that we visited? It was all so educational but fun—I haven’t done that much studying since my college days!

Comparing it to New York. The conversation is endless. What’s better, a delicious cupcake or a delightful macaron? Eiffel Tower or Empire State Building? NYC subway or Parisian metro? City street style or Parisian chic? The questions go on and on, and I had fun soaking in one amazing city and comparing it to the other back home.

Leisurely café lunches with the girls. Living in NYC, I often miss two of my besties (one lives in Harrisburg, the other’s in law school in East Lansing). We don’t often get the opportunity to sit around and talk for hours like we used to in college, so it was nice to enjoy lunch together the Parisian way: relaxed, with plenty of wine, food and gossip. And not once did a waiter hover or rush us out. A girl could get used to the Parisian lunch hour—it was a welcome break from scarfing my lunch down at my desk in NYC, that’s for sure.

All in all, 9 days in the City of Lights was long enough for me to fall in love—and realize I need to go back ASAP. I’ve also got a serious case of the European travel bug—I need to get to Rome, Barcelona, and London like, yesterday. I’m already Googling flights!

PS: Please don’t hate me if I mention Paris in every single blog post from now on. Seriously, I am completely, irrevocably, head over heels in love. I mean, can’t I just change my blog name to “The View From The 36th Floor, aka The View From Beneath The Eiffel Tower?” It’s got a ring to it, right?

PPS: Feeling inspired by the Paris trip, my 25^th birthday, and a new camera, I’ve been trying my hand at (some very amateur) photography. So, I started a Tumblr page to share some random photos from my life. I dubbed it “La Vie En Rose” after my favorite French song. It’s also a lovely Parisian phrase that translates into “life in pink”—the only way to see things, in my opinion! Check me out.

Bonjour! I’ve Come to Return the Book I Borrowed!

I’m going to Paris.

(pause for dramatic effect because I can’t believe I just typed that sentence)

Yes, it’s true. My friend Channing, her mom and I are going to visit our friend Serena, who’s studying abroad in the City of Lights. It’s been one of my lifelong bucket list destinations—I studied French language, culture and history for 12 years in school, so it’s hard to imagine that soon (God willing) I’ll actually be in the Louvre. And eating real baguettes. Walking along the Seine, and mingling amongst the endlessly chic Parisiennes.

Naturally, as soon as I booked my trip, I went into Paris overdrive. While I’ve enjoyed watching nothing but the movies Amélie, Funny Face, and Midnight in Paris over and over, one night after work I decided that I also wanted to get a great guide book, pick up some lit from the Lost Generation, and brush up on my Français. This called for a quick trip to the bookstore.

But alas, I work in midtown. A couple of years ago, I could’ve walked right over to Columbus Circle and popped in Border’s, or strolled up a few blocks to the massive Barnes and Noble at Lincoln Center. But both have shuttered (RIP), not leaving me with many options. Of course, I prefer independent bookstores, and I can spend hours in The Strand and Three Lives in the Village, but for a quick after-work trip, I found it hard to believe there aren’t any good spots in midtown.

And then—after a quick Google search—I found the Rizzoli bookstore on 57th Street between 5th and 6th, right by the F train stop I get on after work. As soon as I opened the door, my heartbeat quickened and I actually squealed. I’d died and gone to literary heaven, and I couldn’t believe it’d taken me so long to find it.

photo courtesy of qantas.com

Three floors full of fiction, beautiful coffee table books, travel guides, gorgeous maps, indie movies, international music and foreign language magazines, all lit by stunning chandeliers. Yes, please! I picked up an assortment of all things Paris-inspired:

I’ve gone back a few times since my first visit just to walk around in a daze like the dorky bookworm that I am. Rizzoli is officially my new solo hang out spot.

P.S. Speaking of books and New York City, I can’t believe I missed this video “B*tches in Bookshops,” a literary spoof of Jay-z and Kanye West’s “N*ggas in Paris” when it first popped up in March. It’s pretty much my theme song. “Know how many bookmarks I own?” Classic. And the Belle from Beauty and the Beast reference? (hence, my blog post title)

Island Girl

“Where do you live?” is usually one of the first questions you get when you meet someone new in New York. When I answer “Roosevelt Island,” I always get a blank stare, followed by one of two responses:

“Where the heck is that?”

Or,

“Is that that place with the tram? People actually live there?”

Most people usually answer the question by rattling off important sounding cross streets, or insisting they love their Brooklyn neighborhood despite the horrific commute. So, the anomaly that is my little island throws New Yorkers for a loop. Allow me to explain: Roosevelt Island is a two-mile, narrow sliver of land that sits between Manhattan and Queens. It’s technically part of the borough of Manhattan, but it has its own name and zip code. I’ve met plenty of native New Yorkers who have lived in the city their whole lives and never even heard of it. Formerly home to both a state penitentiary and an insane asylum, the island’s got quite the history, but these days it’s home to a pretty diverse population of more than 9,000. And because of its small size, there’s pretty much only one of everything: one Duane Reade, one Starbucks, one dry cleaners, one grocery store, etc. And guess what the main street of the island is named? You guessed it: Main Street.

When my New York friends visit me or hear about the lack of typically New York-ish things in my neighborhood, they aren’t shy about questioning my decision to live on the island. Call me a romantic, but its quirkiness is just what I love about it: it’s got a story, it’s got personality, and it can be breathtakingly beautiful. A walk home for me means strolling along the water, getting a break from the city while at the same time taking a step back and appreciating the view of its twinkling lights. The aerial tramway that takes you across the Queensboro Bridge from the island to the city is a really unique way of looking at both NYC and Queens. And—wait for it—at one end of the island, there’s a lighthouse. A lighthouse! Come on, you don’t get much more storybook than that.

But I get why it’s not for everyone. Some people thrive on having New York’s noisy traffic and bars right outside their front door, or being able to have the prestige of a certain address. And don’t get me wrong—there are downsides to living on the island. Like, if the F train is down, the only other option is taking the tram over. And the fact that there is only one grocery store on the island means food shopping can get pricey. But every time I start to get frustrated with those aspects and think that after three years, maybe it is time for me to move, a walk along the water during a summer sunset or sitting with a book down by the lighthouse in the fall reminds me that me and this place were just meant to be together.

And each season, I’m seeing more and more that I’m not the only one enamored with the area. Pier NYC, a new, seasonal food-and-booze joint with cute little tables and umbrellas just opened down on the water this past weekend, and it’s drawing big crowds looking for a summer margarita with a great view. And with the island finally offering food truck permits, some fun foodie bites are coming our way, like the Italian mobile eatery Eddie’s Pizza. But while those are some great additions, I wouldn’t mind leaving the island just as it is. I work in the city and I party in the city—so for now, I’m just fine with leaving the Manhattan bells and whistles behind to come home to a little peace, quiet, and Roosevelt Island charm.

Girls…We Run This Mutha’…

image courtesy of collegecandy.com

So instead of a long ramble about all the things that have kept me from posting this past year (late nights at work, writer’s block, Mad Men marathons on Netflix) I’m just going to dive in to posting again (thanks, Channing, for the motivation—I’ve missed this space!)

On a blog about being a 20-something living in New York, I basically have no choice but to write about the phenomenon that is HBO’s show Girls. I was reluctant at first to give in to the peer pressure, as it was hyped to be a new, hipstery version of Sex and the City, with (yet again) no brown faces. But after a few weeks of hearing a co-worker gush constantly about the story lines and her love for the characters, I decided to give it a shot.

Two hours later, I had watched four episodes and was dying for more. Every Sunday night I checked HBO Go (thanks, Dad, for letting me mooch off your account!) to see if the latest episode was up. The season finale aired last week, and I felt a sudden emptiness knowing it was over. Beyond the hype, the series is undeniably hilarious and realistic. Case in point: in one episode, the main character, Hannah, finds out she has HPV and, after discussing the diagnosis with her friends (including the guy she’s sleeping with) she finds herself at home, depressed and trying to think of something clever to say on Twitter. She then puts on Robyn’s “Dancing On My Own” and busts into a random, awkward solo dance session. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself dancing alone in my apartment to a sugary pop song to make myself feel better.

The show’s biggest criticism has been its lack of diversity. But to me, it doesn’t matter. Yes, Hannah the main character and her three friends are all white, but I thought that as a culture, we’d agreed upon the fact that most people hang out with people that look like them in like, 1990. Time to get over it. I didn’t even think about it as I was watching the show because, no matter your background, every girl can relate to dating the guy that says awkward things in bed, or scouring through Facebook for hours when your ex gets a new girlfriend, or having that one friend who has an unhealthy obsession with SATC.

And then there’s the realistic portrayal of living in New York as a young person on a barely-there salary: Asking your parents to help you make rent, ending up at a random warehouse party in Brooklyn, falling asleep on the subway and waking up at Coney Island. The writing is so smart and witty that I both love and hate the show’s creator, Lena Dunham, simply because she took the average girl’s life, made it into a show, and is now on her way to being a television and Hollywood darling—at only 26. Why didn’t I think of that?! Hate aside, I just read that they’ve wrapped up shooting season 2. I’m already ready for Girls to return—maybe by next season, I’ll be able to afford watching it on the actual HBO channel rather than my laptop.

Get on the Bus

I’ve been neglecting my blog, I know, I know. But, I’ll be honest, in addition to my usual crazy work schedule, it’s been because of summer time: cookouts, pool time, a bachelorette party, weekend trips, and the like. I mean, really, can you blame me?

But I’m not the only one that’s been taking some weekend trips, and in New York—a city where hardly anyone owns a car—when you want to get out of town for a quick weekend, you take the Bolt or Mega Bus. Now, if you’re not familiar with either of these buses, you are probably imagining a bus station somewhere in New York, where buses pull in and out on schedule, and things pretty much work like clockwork. Unfortunately, as I was reminded during a trip back to Maryland for Father’s Day weekend, that’s definitely not the case.

You see, there are definite pros and cons with taking either of these buses. The pros: tickets range from $17-$23 (and these days, that’s definitely a big pro.) More pros: the Bolt Bus has leather seats, and both Bolt and Mega buses have wi-fi, and outlets so you can keep your laptop/iPad/phone charged. All great. The downsides? I have yet to take either bus and have them be on time. Especially on a holiday weekend—buses can be delayed by 2-3 hours. Oh, and they have no bus stations, so waiting for these buses during that 2-3 hour period is truly a madhouse: people are elbowing each other, trying to get on an earlier bus on standby, there’s no type of organized line, and—being that there is no actual station—if it’s raining, snowing, or just plain hot or cold, you’re out of luck.

Unfortunately, being that I live in New York and pay New York rent, New York food prices, and New York taxes, I normally can’t afford to take the Amtrak train for a short weekend trip. So, it’s the bus for me. But I feel I should warn whoever I can to be prepared, because it’s easy to be fooled by these buses when you are coming from another destination into New York (my ride in from Maryland was drama free, minus a carsick kid who was puking in the seat behind me.)  But if you are heading out from NYC, be prepared with snacks for your long wait, the appropriate clothing for weather changes, and your game face for the battle to get on the bus.

(For those of you wondering about the Chinatown bus…don’t even get me started. All I will say is, avoid it at all costs—but that’s another post for another day.)