on a clear night you can see forever.

since i’ve taken up residence in new york, i’ve heard rumors that i had to go to a rooftop bar.  according to everyone i spoke to, it would be a great way for me to see the city from a high vantage point, and a fun environment to experience before i left.

luckily, i got my chance a couple of weeks ago when my mom’s best friend and my former hostess jill invited me, her niece and nephew dara and matt, and stepdaughters dana and kady for dinner and drinks to celebrate her birthday.  we all met at the new ink48 hotel in the meatpacking district, had dinner at the restaurant “print” downstairs, and then, following enthusiastic urgings from jill that we had to go to the bar upstairs after we ate, we all rode the elevator to the bar not expecting anything special.  when the elevator door opened we saw an incredible rooftop bar – “press” lounge – that showcased a spectacular, breathtaking view of the city.  the sun was just setting behind the skyscrapers and lights illuminated the windows of every building.  in a pocket off to one side you could see the blinding lights of times square, and to the left was the quiet darkness of the hudson.  it was an absolutely gorgeous picture of the city, and in the after sun coolness of night, i could have stayed out there all night.  i hope to go back there before the end of the summer to take in the picturesque surroundings one more time.

“do you think she just walks in here and thinks, ‘my life f*&$ing rocks’?”

this past week, i had the privilege of meeting the designer of the brand i work for.  she agreed to meet with all of the interns and answer our questions, talk about her inspirations, and the direction in which the brand is moving.  we all gathered in the beautiful showroom in our corporate office and awaited her arrival.  when she came through the door, she looked chic, fabulous, and calm, wearing a gaudy cocktail ring and a lilac colored dress belted at the waist with a wide brown belt.  she answered every question with ease and confidence, had a fantastic sense of humor and really seemed to know herself and where she wanted her company to go from here.  i really loved hearing from her and was so glad she had time in her busy schedule to talk to the interns – i am inspired by her business savvy, her strong point of view, and her great sense of style.  i have become very influenced by her lifestyle since i have worked at the company, in a different way than artists like twyla tharp, bob fosse, and jerome robbins (my biggest inspirations and influences) have changed my creative life.  i do, however, respect her deeply and admire her accomplishments, and it made me appreciate where i work that much more.

before she came to speak to us, i turned to my intern friend elizabeth and said, “do you think she just walks in here and thinks: ‘my life f*&$ing rocks’?”  to which elizabeth just laughed and said, “i would.”

the trouble with tunics.

i know its been awhile since i’ve written about my internship.  i guess i was trying to be as discreet as possible, and also i didn’t have much to say – i do what all fashion interns do, to some degree.  it has been incredibly rewarding and i’ll be sad when it ends, but i have learned so much.

including last week, when i volunteered to go with two other interns to our boutique in greenwich, where the city-wide sidewalk sale was taking place.  i wasn’t expecting the job to be very hard, and i wanted the retail experience in case i want to continue pursuing a career in fashion in the future.  i’m proud to say that i now know the merchandise very well and thought i could be helpful.  little did i know how crazy the ladies of greenwich would be about our merchandise.  there were lines wrapped around the store twice and throngs of people crowding the door before we opened.  we probably could have used more personnel to handle the number of people we had.  i was fielding questions left and right and walking around with a crinkled master price list to let people know how much items cost.

one lady in particular was curious about how much a tunic cost, and i assured her that she wasn’t going to do any better than the price we had marked it down to.  a designer shirt for that little money?  what an amazing deal!  she joined the line only after making me promise her that the price i told her was correct.  in the hour and a half that she stood on line (and yes, the line was that long in our tiny store), the store manager had realized that the price was mis-marked.  instead of honoring the original price that we had initially told customers (some of whom made out like bandits and got the low price tunics before we realized our mistake), they decided to charge people the correct price after all.  the woman who i had been helping previously found me and screamed at me in front of several onlookers, and i had no idea what to say.  i knew that it wasn’t my fault and that the woman was being unnecessarily cruel, but i was so distraught that i had to throw my hands up and walk away.  when i got outside the store i had to take a walk down the block and stop myself from crying.  i couldn’t believe that someone was that impolite and upset about an honest human mistake, and i had never encountered a situation like that.

after i had calmed down i went back inside and helped out with other customers.  i also sat under a table and organized the messy pile of sale shoes that had begun to form, placing them in the correct boxes and stacking them neatly where they belonged so people could find their size.  despite the altercation with the woman earlier in the day, i really enjoyed my experience in greenwich.  yes, it was exhausting and challenging, but it was a sort of validation of just how much i have learned this summer, not only about the company i work for but about the business in general.  and not only that, but it showed me that there’s nothing like a little southern hospitality – i used my upbringing in dallas to help me approach the huge number of people that showed up to the store for the sale.  i greeted people with a smile and patience no matter how tired i was, and tried to give respect even when people were being short with me because they all cared about was the shoe they came to buy.  it didn’t make me want to work in retail for the rest of my life, of course, but it was enough to show me that i could do it for a little while and not completely suck at it.

there’s a waffle truck parked outside my apartment.

i don’t mean for this to turn into a food blog, and i promise eating isn’t the only thing that i do, but i just had to share with you this amazing development that i have discovered:  the waffle truck by my apartment.  its not there every night, which is definitely a good thing, but its the perfect solution to a late night craving or a pick-me-up after a bad day.  the wafels and dinges truck, with its golden yellow exterior and waffle heaven interior cranks out waffles made from authentic belgian recipes.  the line is usually very long as people debate with their friends about what toppings to put on top.  i opted for a waffle with whipped cream, strawberries, and warm chocolate sauce as toppings, and i sat in union square on a bench eating it faster than it took for them to make it.  now when i see the truck i try to run in the other direction – its quite a dangerous habit – but i’m definitely going to have to go one more time before i leave new york city in two weeks.  only in new york…

good times never seemed so good (insert cheering red sox fans here).

when allison proposed that we take a trip to boston for a weekend, i immediately said yes.  for some reason, i had a hankering to get back there – it wasn’t something i could really explain very well, but i just missed the spirit of boston.  so we made arrangements to take a bolt bus friday morning, found couches we could sleep on, and went with little other plans.

we arrived at south station at around 1 and met our lovely host, hannah.  after allison and i ate something (very quickly and enthusiastically, might i add), hannah suggested we go to the institute of contemporary art to check out some exhibits she read about.  since we’re all art lovers, it seemed like the perfect way to spend the afternoon.  the museum is a stunning building on the seaport, a tranquil part of boston that feels a little separate but not far from the rest of the city.  the building has a sleek and funky shape that hangs over the water and showcases breathtaking views of the port from many different vantage points – a long hallway with massive windows on one side, the poss mediatheque (a little dizzying but still beautiful), as well as stadium style wooden bleachers in the open air where events are held in summer and museum-goers are encouraged to sit – and the exhibits inside the building are just as fascinating as the architecture of the museum itself.  while we were there, there was a particularly interesting exhibit by american artist and sculptor charles ledray called “workworkworkworkwork.”  the exhibit features thousands of miniature replication of clothing and objects that explore topics including masculinity, nostalgia, time, and memory.  the artist hand-sewed outfits and created intricate detailing, often focusing on tattered and torn suits and overcoats of different fabrics and styles that represented various occupations and socioeconomic class; the worn qualities of the clothes suggests a monotony, a sadness.  the frayed hems and holes cut out of whole outfits, tiny suits holding on to the cuffs of larger shirts conveyed a melancholy tone and provided a really interesting commentary on american life.  my favorite piece was the “party bed,” which was a scaled down version of two stacked mattresses on a drab floor rug, and strewn atop the mattresses was a haphazard pile of coats.  it was a colorful, lazy heap of clothes – a blue and lime green nylon windbreaker, a chanel-like tweed, peach-colored coat, a plaid short jacket, an olive peacoat – thrown carelessly on an unmade red quilted comforter, suggesting frivolity and a casting off of inhibitions.  the sentiment was familiar, evoking memories of coats on my grandparents’ bed during the high holidays and the mingling scents of perfume and old spice and the musty smell of velveteen synagogue chairs.

after we meandered through the museum the three of us sat outside on the bleachers for a long time and relaxed.  cargo ships emitted low honking sounds and smaller boats dodged their paths.  i realized as we sat there barefoot and resting our blistered feet, chatting about what to do the rest of the weekend, that there is something about boston that i used to be afraid of, but i’m not anymore.  i think it was the fear of feeling at home – when i lived there in middle school i tried to reject is so strongly, and even now i don’t feel completely comfortable there, kind of like i’m out of place or different than most people.  but the city itself is stunning – its a metropolis unlike any other, and though i’d say the same thing about new york, boston is a little bit more manageable, slightly more understandable, nut no less interesting or culturally unique.  the intellect, the beauty, the vast history that boston is steeped in makes it special, and i felt so glad to be back.

the rest of the weekend went by quickly, and though it was as hot as ever (i had forgotten how miserable massachusetts summers were) and though i sneezed all weekend long from being allergic to the entire state, i had a wonderful time.  hannah, allison, and i attended two fantastic street fairs that supported the work of local artists -artbeat in davis square and the sowa open markets in the south end – and also got to see a world premiere of a new show called “grimm” at the boston center for the arts, produced by company one.  the show was seven small plays in one, featuring the fairytales of the brothers grimm reimagined by boston area playwrights and gregory maguire, the infamous creator of the novel, wicked who has subsequently become a very lucky man.  each tale – some better known than others – were witty and beautiful and interesting and clever, and it was so cool to see how stories written ages ago were viewed by these very different playwrights.  it was a unique chance to see a new work and we all thoroughly enjoyed it.  my personal favorites were “thanksgiving,” based on the tale “clever else,” which was a poignant and multi-layered story, as well as “red,” based on “red riding hood,” a very haunting and erotic interpretation of the famous story.

one of my favorite parts of the weekend was getting to spend time with hannah, who i became friends with during my first semester of college when we lived two doors down from each other on the same hall in good old deroy.  our friendship has continued throughout our time at brandeis, but our lives don’t intersect as much as i’d like and i never feel like i get to spend a lot of time with her during the year, especially when dance rehearsals eat me alive.  its funny, because hannah and i are very different people, with different goals in mind and very different demeanors – she is calm and introspective and i am usually very cheerleader-like and effusive.  but i find that i seek hannah’s approval, wisdom, and advice more than most people i have ever met in my life, and her friendship is probably more important to me than she realizes.  she has a deep and interesting soul and a big heart, and i hope that this weekend in boston was the start of many more times for us to spend with each other.

the quick taste of the boston/cambridge area was enough to get me excited for the year ahead.  senior year is sure to be filled with lots of excursions into the city from waltham, or at least it will if i have anything to say about it.  i am glad i am beginning to appreciate it more and was happy to spend a short 72 hours though, bopping to “sweet caroline” on my ipod as the bolt bus revealed the glimmering city skyline on the horizon.

taking up an argument with sondheim.

several weeks ago i went to a wonderful show with my friend alex davidson, just before the show closed.  it was called “sondheim on sondheim” and featured an array of sondheim music sung by a talented revue cast, as well as videos of sondheim interspersed among the musical numbers.  in the interviews, sondheim discussed his life, his inspirations, his process for writing his famous and wonderful music.  the videos were entertaining and the staging was inventive and fun.  the show, on top of being really interesting and informative about a living genius, also achieved exactly what a musical revue should – it presented the so-called songbook of sondheim’s little known and most famous music in an exciting and infectious way.  i found myself thoroughly entertained, and even alex, who isn’t a huge fan of sondheim (blasphemy, i know), was pleasantly surprised.

stephen sondheim wasn’t someone i knew very much about before that evening, or really even before my year of the quick musical theater learning curve (thank you cast of “a chorus line” and theater geeks i sit with at lunch every day).  i knew his work without knowing it was his and didn’t appreciate what a legend he was until recently.  it’s pretty safe to say that you just don’t mess with this guy.  he’s a big deal.

i do, however, have an argument to take up with him.  he’ll never read this so i can safely post it on this inconsequential little blog without fearing that arguably, one of the best composers and lyricists of all time will come to get me.  one of my favorite songs of his, “being alive” – its my mom’s favorite too – is a truly beautiful song.  for those of you who don’t know, its the very last number of “company,” during which the lead actor, bobby, struggles with the concept of marriage.  now, i know the song is about love and about finding a partner to walk through life with, but i am going to approach the song from a different angle.  the words “but alone is alone, not alive” strike me.  i am the first to admit that i love being surrounded by people – i love company and love talking and sharing with the world around me.  however, i have also learned to appreciate my own ability to be alone.  there is of course, a difference between being alone and being lonely, and the distinction is sometimes very difficult to achieve.  but personally, i don’t think that being alone means that you aren’t alive, that you aren’t living.

again, i recognize that sondheim and i are talking about different things, but music is up to interpretation to some degree, and that line bothers me.  this entire summer, i have often wandered through new york on my own, taking in the city from a singular perspective almost as much as i have been exploring it with other people.  even though being alone can sometimes be hard, i have appreciated the silence and introspection it has also given me.  so maybe stephen sondheim is right about most things, but i think i’ll give him a hard time about this one.

at any rate, you can’t see the show now since it closed shortly after alex and i went to see it, but a friend of mine told me that the soundtrack is being released soon and it includes sondheim’s commentaries on all of his work.  so check it out

a tree grows in brooklyn.

ever since i knew i’d be spending the summer in new york, i told myself that, come hell or high water, i was going to make it out to the brooklyn botanical gardens at least once before my time here ended.  knowing that my parents would be leaving town on july third, and knowing that i’d be lonely/bummed out that they left me, i tried to make plans for the fourth so that i could, at the very least, be surrounded by some people and not feel alone.

i called up my friend noah, a brandeis alum, and asked if he’d be interested in spending the better part of the day with me in brooklyn, and he enthusiastically agreed.  before heading to the botanical gardens, we decided to meet for brunch at a famous dive of a diner so we could catch up on everything we’d missed in each other’s lives for the past year.  once i found the place – tom’s – after difficulty navigating the area, we ordered food and in five minutes already had our plates in front of us.  even though we devoured our french toast and egg white omelet in nearly as much time, we managed to get filled in on all our respective updates.  not only was the meal cheap, but it was delicious and definitely lived up to its reputation.  it’s full brunch menu was certainly enough to merit its praise, but the atmosphere of the restaurant, with its floor to ceiling collection of knick knacks, faux flower vines, twinkle lights, and stained glass windows, created a sort of perfectly gaudy and bauble-filled eating environment.  the quirkiness and haphazard nature of the decor worked somehow.  if you find yourself in brooklyn at some point soon, check out tom’s diner.

after brunch, we meandered back up the street to the brooklyn botanical gardens where we bought tickets and began exploring the grounds.  the first section that we encountered was the incredible japanese pond and hill garden.  a wooden veranda painted deep brown and pale yellow with wrap around benches and a low beamed roof overlooked the mossy, bright green water of the pond.  adjacent to the verandah was a wooden porch with a lattice bamboo frame for a ceiling, serpentine branches and vines masking the heat of the afternoon sun.  it is quiet here, save for the faint distant sound of water rushing along a small brook nearby, and a small child whining to her mother that she wanted to go home, too young to appreciate the beauty.  an orange wooden spiritual gate stood boldly in the middle of the pond, the paint on the gate a bold contrast to the green of the water, representing a threshold through which spirits can pass on the way to the ancient japanese stone shrine that is nestled under the shade of a tree on a hill not far beyond the pond.

the plunk of a timid turtle head diving back under the surface of the moss or the nervous flap of a tail of an orange and brown spotted koifish – the kind i used to see in koi ponds in the plaza of doctors’ office buildings, or at northpark mall by the neiman marcus, or in fish tanks at chinese restaurants – could be heard if you listened closely above the din of talkative tourists.  do you think the ugly, scaly looking brown koifish are envious of the orange ones?  the orange ones are far more memorable and are less susceptible to invisibility in the murk of the pond, something i think i’d be concerned about.  i’d want to be an orange one.  the turtles’ shells are caked with mud and dirt – not tesselations of diamond shapes like they draw in children’s books.  little trails of moss follow the turtles as they navigate their viscous landscape, the water moving in a sort of oil and water like fashion, or like dragging a stick through a bucket of green paint.  what are turtles so afraid of anyway?

bonzai trees and small, clipped shrubs, rocks and stone benches surround the periphery of the pond.  birds chirp, not incessantly but constant, a soundtrack that blends with the muted brush of trees in the wind.  the pond looks like split pea soup or a really brilliantly green pesto, and the water dances, reflecting light on the overhanging wooden ceiling of the verandah.

in the shakespeare garden, not far from the pond, plants and flowers written about in shakespeare’s sonnets and poetry are cultivated.  at the center of the garden is a stone fountain – not working – with a shallow tub to collect water.  plants like forget-me-nots and lady slippers, garlic plants and violets can be spotted among the somewhat overgrown, haphazard little garden, which appears tucked away, an inconsequential and forgotten afterthought.  the brick path is crowded with overreaching plants, and the whole section feels a little wild and untidy.  still, there is a romantic feeling to it even though it doesn’t possess the same cleanliness and order that the rest of the attraction boasts.  i’ve always loved shakespeare and when i was in this particular garden i imagined that this was the kind of setting shakespeare would want for any number of his star-crossed lovers.  the disorder and unruly plants create a sort of metaphor for the messy love affairs and convoluted plot lines he often created to entertain his audiences.

the last spot in the gardens that i really loved was a huge tree that we stumbled upon on our walk.  it was a huge tree with a large umbrella like canopy of gorgeous leafy green vines that reminded me of those long and languid mod-style doorway curtains that i always thought about buying from claire’s when claire’s was cool and the only place i knew where to shop.  you could walk underneath its canopy and find shade there, as well as a gray tree trunk knotty and carved with lovers’ initials.  that made me angry.  sunlight crept in through crevices in the canopy, creating a warm but quiet escape.  it had the effect of making you feel so small, so reachable and attainable in comparison to the top of the tree.  still, it just sat there in the middle of the garden, unassuming but beautiful in its own way.

there were other parts of the garden that we explored as well, and i got to see other flowers planted here and there that were named clever names, like “little mischief” or “dreaming spires” which were two of my favorite nomenclatures.  in general, there were less flowers than i expected, and i was of course disappointed to have missed the cherry blossom trees by a couple of months.  regardless, i was so happy to wander through the botanical gardens and see what the hype was all about.  plus, i got some good writing in while i sat by the japanese pond for a couple of hours.

it’s unclear if i’ll be back to brooklyn before the summer ends, but it was fun to explore some of its famous landmarks while i could.