Part of it New York New York
With respect to my recent trip to New York City, let me just start with packing. Not for personal safety. For personal vanity. I swear I used to be good at packing. Now, I completely suck. Remember that thing inside your brain which allows you to make high-level decisions about what is in your best interest and usually be right? That thing in my own brain has been eroded by hormones or processed food or beer. Probably all those things conspiring together. This is the same brain that thought it was totally appropriate for me to bring three pairs of high heeled shoes, some semi-flats whose embellishments fell off within the first hour of my trip and some yosi samra ballet flats. I ended up wearing the flats the whole time and essentially wore them utterly out over the course of five days walking incessantly on the streets of Manhattan. It’s a bad pack when you wear only two of the five pairs of shoes you put in your suitcase. I did wear most of my long-sleeved wrap/tops. Wore the same pair of True Religion jeans the whole time. Thank you, Gay Chris. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, read here.There is just an added pressure to look awesome in New York. You want to look like you aren’t from Missouri, or where ever. No showing up with a hair scrunchie and an upholstered vest. Admitting I went to high school in Oklahoma doesn’t help either. When you are in one of the most exhilarating cities on earth, you want to blend in, yet you want to make a statement, even if it’s that you are so chill that you don’t have to make a statement. You want to look at home with six foot tall one hundred and four pound models, dirty hobos, impeccably dressed executives, sanitation workers, Columbia University students, European tourists, ethnically-diverse thirty-somethings, fathers with strollers. It is all there for the eyes to feast. The fact is, you couldn’t possibly not blend in or make a statement. Far too much competition. I mean, unless you decided to walk around naked. I did actually see a male street performer asking for cash while wearing a sherbet orange bikini and floral flip-flops. There is no competing with that.I fully intended to blog while I was in New York, but we never stopped once. Not one time. It’s hard to be interested in anything but food and caffeine when you stay out until 4:00 a.m. more nights than not. I will be filling out some of those details as I blog this week. Besides, I want to be in the moment, not documenting it constantly. Tweeting can be detracting enough, but you can follow me on Twitter here.
Seven of the graduating class of 1984 from Putnam City North High School have been getting together since graduation. We’ve never gone long without seeing each other, but got serious about planning vacations together about a decade ago. We were actually not a group phenomenon until the summer between high school graduation and the start of college. We call that time of our lives the Summer of Love, sacrilege as that may sound. Regardless, it’s pretty cool and has sustained us over the course of 28 years.
Ah, so you were just here. Again. LOL High heels are only good in NYC once you reach your destination- like your office in Wall Street, although I don’t think my DIL actually wears really tall heels then either. Comfort is always the name of the game and not looking like a target- or hick.