Friday, 10 October 2014

The guy at the art store acknowledged me as a writer



Yesterday afternoon my doll (who is hosting me on her couch for these crucial few weeks to whom I owe everything) & I ventured down to the local deli on our self-sufficient block for some lunch. After grabbing a turkey, brie and avocado baguette with a healthy side of mac n cheese (!), cue excess weight gain, she told me she need to nip to the art store across the street. She didn't actually say nip, because she's American and would never use such a word but you get the general gist here. I decided to accompany her on her little visit and this is where it all went horribly wrong.

It wasn't so long ago during my Harvey Nichols days that I had to ask Paperchase to ban me from their store. The truth is, I am a fucking stationary addict and I am also not ashamed but still, I shouldn't be allowed into any store where pretty little decorated notebooks are stacked next too useless pretty post-it notes and sexy precision pens. Thus, my ignorant self stepped into Blick on Bond St and shit really hit the fan. Better than Gossip Girl's radar, my eye instantly spotted the sexiest black notepad emblazoned with a gold perforated font that read: Fucking Brilliant. Like most people feel about Ryan Gosling, I knew I had to have it. I mean it's not like I don't have any notebooks but there was no way I could walk away with out this bad boy, and the sales assistant thought so too. He caught me hovering over said book biting my nails and just as the snake forced Eve to eat that apple, 'you should just get it', he said without any hesitation. I was screwed. I mean having worked in retail for a great deal of time myself I knew what was next - the dreaded link sale. A mere twenty minutes later I left the store with two new notepads, a pen and an invitation to my sales assistant's next poetry reading and a coffee date. It happened so quick I can hardly remember but I asked them nicely to never let me in there again. Before I left however, my sales guy whose name is Bonafide (no joke, as his name badge told me) encouraged me to keep writing. It was a truly beautiful moment.

Fast forward, it's now a slightly sunny Friday afternoon in the concrete jungle and as I finally get the opportunity to write this post, whilst staring at a near distant Williamsburg bridge from my window, it comes to my attention just how weird and wonderful another week here has been. I mean let's be honest, amidst all the madness over the past seven days - Drake watching British programme, Top Boy and Iris Apfel being featured by & Other Stories for a styling series - shit has been a little stir crazy. I almost felt at certain points that I could carry on living this bohemian, creative lifestyle forever and then I checked my bank balance. I'm not Hemingway basically so mama needs a job.

In the middle of all of this weird and wonderfulness, I have just been another person in the city, striving for success and other stuff. I hop on the subway, I meet peeps for coffee, I talk to strangers - pretty much as I would do at home, except they are a bit more welcoming with my 'posh' accent and all. I also have to mention that there are so many added benefits to being over the pond. You can literally get anything you want at any hour - read that as you will - as my late night venture in FedEx also proved the other evening. I don't recall being able to print CV's in London anywhere at 10.30pm. It's the little things right? Talking about little things, I need to tell you how effing awesome it is that I can now stream HOT97 at my own leisure. No, you can't do this England and so there you have it, if that's not a reason to be living stateside then I am not sure what is. S/O to my man Funkmaster Flex - even though he will never know my name.

Anywhoo, I celebrated a productive last week by heading out to meatpacking with the girl dolls on Friday night and busting a groove, which spilled into my Saturday following a boozy brunch and a sort of frat party with Jersey dudes that I'm sure none of you really want to know about. As if I couldn't get anymore cheese on toast than I already am, another Sunday brunch was followed by an afternoon in Central Park where I'm sure I did the whole moody/reflective tourist thing really well. Girl dates really are the best. Monday was a truly special day (sounds like a Craig David song I know) as I kickstarted the afternoon by meeting with the mother of an amazing friend of mine - I guess you don't realise you need a dose of Indian/British-ness till you get it - thanks Sim! The special day continued with the added surprise of getting an American number. That's right folks, my boy Jay from over the bridge hooked me up with my first ever pimp phone. I feel like a super rap star with two phones combined with Soulja Boy's 'Kiss me thru the phone' as I recited my number to practically anyone and everyone that would take. I stayed on this high for quite some time and even bagged myself a J.O.B at the Nugget Spot on 14th Street. Don't be mad when i'm getting chicken nuggets for free! I did decide however, to wait for something a little more career focused even though I liked the sound of being a copywriter-turned-chicken-nugget-girl. That was also the day that Bunny & I went to buy a homeless man a sleeping bag but he had gone; sad face.

The rest of the week continued in similar Craig David 'Seven days' style as I bounced between interviews, cute bars (Cienfuegos) and even cuter coffee shops whilst getting sexy emails in my inbox from company directors. A highlight was definitely venturing over to International Playground on Broome St on Tuesday evening for the 10th Issue launch of Lutefisk magazine, created by a friend of a friend if you get my drift. It had been so long since I'd been to one of these events where no-one really networks with no-one other than the people in their cliques; thank sweet baby Jesus that I had my soul sister Bunny there with me as we downed a beautifully disgusting concoction of tequila and grapefruit juice. Jokes aside, check the magazine out, it even inspired me to bring this back with a facelift: Undone relaunches as PANTS Issue 0 - watch this space. (This paragraph is sponsored by all my amazingly talented friends, so do take the time to click the links please).

Wow it really has been a long seven days and if I didn't write it down I guess it could be seen as one big blur of BLAH. Thursday ended with a double coffee drink date with an amazing entrepreneur and a sexy buyer who I know from home. As I finished the last drop of my Cosmopolitan at The New York Palace last night (who the fuck do I think I am?) I did a quick meditation and praised the lord for all these blessings. I also think I got a little better at Skyping the family this week so there you have it. Right, i'm out of breath, so i'm gonna head to OAK and dress like a mini A$AP Rocky ready for a socially engaged weekend.

PEACE & LOVE and thanks for reading this if you made it to the end.

x

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