Dear NYC, I love you.
Everyone keeps telling me that the transition will be hard and that I cannot compare this new city to NYC, whatever I do. I moved to NYC July 7, 2009 with no intentions. All I wanted was to find a job that would let me live in THE city. I’ll save the details for a longer story, but after 2 months at grandma’s in Fort Lee, NJ, a night in a hotel, two nights at a new friend’s place in the UWS, on September 14, 2009 everything magically worked out. I got a job offer, my best friend and I found a sublet in Nolita sharing a bed, then signed a lease in Stuy Town (we liked to call it the east coast college campus we never had). This was 4 days before I turned 24 and the start of a life and adventure I didn’t even know was possible
My parents met in the UES in 1975. My mom was the assistant manager to the band Kiss and my dad was the drum roadie. My parents were total hippie rockstars and NYC was in my blood. It wasn’t if I would live in this crazy city it was when. I remember being a kid in Times Square (gross I know) staring up at Carson Daly hosting TRL live while the city streets were bustling around me. I’d go to Broadway shows, shop at FAO Schwartz, ice skate at Wollman rink, and eat endless Sabrett hot dogs. I knew I’d live here at some point.
I’ll never forget a few moments soon after I moved to NYC. One is when I had a complete meltdown in the subway and a fight with my puffy coat. No one told me NYC is hard! Especially coming from luxurious west coast Santa Monica life. It was two degrees outside, I was 6 months into living in the city, I went to the gym, and made the big mistake of putting a puffy coat on while dripping sweat. On the subway platform I panicked because it was all of a sudden so freaking hot. Note to self- you can’t take a puffy coat off when you’re dripping sweat, it results in a fight with coat and a total meltdown. But then I remember being at the gym and it was such a silly realization... but I had a routine. For the first time in months I felt like I had made a life for myself in this insane city. I did it. I made it! And then that first snow fall. It gets me every time. It’s absolutely beautiful and so peaceful and waking up to white covered streets and fire escapes… well, there really are no words to describe that feeling.
I see my New York life in three chapters. My young twenties were just pure fun. I had one friend when I moved to NYC (hi Mariss!) then lots followed. I lived with my best friend from high school, Alex, and since we didn’t have a ton of friends, we latched onto my coworkers. We would dance to 90s hip hop at No Malice Palace (rip), sing karaoke at Sing Sing, play trivia, play frisbee in the park and picnic, host epic New Years parties at the office, and we even played on a basketball and dodgeball team called ‘Shake the Bear’ (please don’t google that at work). Life was pretty care free. We lived in our massive Stuy Town apartment (why did I give up $1200 rent?!) and the big corner near us had Artichoke, street meat, Hot and Crusty, Gray’s Papaya, and Pommes Frites (rip) just a short walk south. One day though, I called my sister and told her I had to actually ban myself from the corner food. It was a problem.
Friends moved and we did everything together. You didn’t have to book 3 weeks out with a friend because you knew you’d all be dancing at Nolita House (ug I miss it!) all weekend. We’d be at Cafe Cortadito that next morning for bloody mary’s and mimosas until they kicked us out for dinner service, and we didn’t know what a hangover was… because we were 24. We’d wander to 71 Iriving and inevitably run into friends, because that was our spot.
Life wasn’t all butterflies, puppies, and artichoke pizza. My mom was diagnosed with lung cancer and it was devastating. I spent the 25th year of my life terrified to get the call that she had passed away. This is also for a longer story but while that time was so hard in my life there were sooo many laughs. I had some of the best 6 months I’ve ever had with my mom and I am forever grateful for Sloan Kettering and so grateful for my friends that were by my side throughout it all. I hosted a gallery party on my 26th birthday to represent the year of so much sorrow and tragedy but also so many good times. That call did come on a Saturday night when I was out at B Bar.
It sounds so annoying now, but all I wanted to do was live west of 8th Avenue and I did. I moved to Jane Street west of 8th on October 1, 2011 and all my friends were there too. It was honestly like the show Friends. We had this little West Village playground and ran around drinking, eating, dancing, dating, crying, laughing, everything. We found new jobs, some found husbands, we experienced heart break, we welcomed new friends, and sadly said au revoir to the closest friends as they moved back west. I too moved! But north. Like 6 blocks because I had a cockroach infestation, and my therapist told me at the time that I was probably traumatized and have a real fear. (raid works. And sunglasses because the cockroach kinda just blends into the hardwood floor).
My Chelsea apartment was and is a dream (minus the fact that I have a mini fridge and the freezer is frozen shut with ice cream inside). I feel like I grew up in that apartment. I experienced heart break for the first time while living there. (thanks Jenny and Marissa for saving my life). And then I dated… a lot from that Chelsea apartment. Endless selfies in my huge wood floor mirror texting my friends the outfit choice. Cozy nights watching friends, the bachelor, the voice, and all the favs. I felt so safe in that apartment. I’d get a mini Christmas tree every year and throw up lights around the windows. I’d cook and order Westville and became a local at The Commons and Havens Kitchen. I found a home at Laughing Lotus and ended up accomplishing a life dream and got my teaching certification there. And I’m happy to say I only saw two “waterbugs” in my tub and was only mildly terrified. I left my first job and got a dream job at Greatist. I biked and walked to work for the 4 years I lived in that apartment. And when I called my landlord to tell him I got a job in SF I kinda cried. I wanted so badly to hold onto this teensie tiny studio but sometimes you just gotta let go.
I love New York so much. I know leaving any city is hard and leaving any home after 8 years isn’t easy. But I will forever think there is something different and special about this place. You have this weird identity living here. Like we’re all going through this crazy life together…. those humid days where you can’t breathe and those cold nights when you actually cry and your hair is frozen. Or the day after Trump is elected and you can feeel the city mourning. I’m a crier (shocker) and this city has absorbed every tear. I’ve sobbed on sidewalks, and corners, and subways, and grocery stores, and coffee shops. This is extreme…. but this city has been my constant this entire time. And most importantly, I’ve made some of the strongest friendships over the years here that’ll last forever.
Staring up at Carson Daly hosting TRL I knew I’d live here one day, I just had no clue how much of an impact a physical place would have on me. But change is good. And when life is pretty perfect and kinda static change is extra good. Boarding a one way flight out of this place will not be easy, but I’m excited for this new chapter. Like really excited. And hey… now I have a sea of new bumble matches in my future.
New York I ♥ you.
