Random thoughts... why I love NYC...

Having exhausted the cash I had in my wallet, I had to have the cashier at Walbaums charge the balance to my debit card.

So, I really was sincere when I left the store, when a panhandler asked if I had a dollar to spare.

"I'm sorry," I said, "Just spent my last dollar. I don't have any more cash on me."

His reply?

After smacking his lips, "You could have just used your debit card."

Only. In. New. York. Only here, yall. What a city.

Heart cha!

pmb

On why I love coffee shops (and especially Starbucks these days)...

The funny thing is, I don't drink coffee. 

Had my last sip at Cosmo's on E. Wooster in Bowling Green, Ohio, home of Bowling Green State University, my collegiate alma mater. Probably, it was on a late night with my fellow inspired peers. Probably, we were discussing life, our futures, the world. It's complexities. What it could, might or would probably entail. How we were going to change it. 

Maybe it was while shooting the shit, sitting with such ease yet such an intense need to cling to every word, hoping to learn from my writing profs, Dr. Messer and Dr. Zackel, who always had the time to chat. About writing. About life. And with whom the silence, when it came, was never awkward. I miss those days.

But I do not miss coffee. :) 

I still frequent coffee shops despite Cosmo's being hundreds of miles and several years away. The atmosphere, for a writer, an intellectual, a thinker is just a perfect mix of people and mood and quiet inspiration. Just a few things I observed/overheard over the summer while writing in coffee shops throughout New York City...

"Honey, I'm still in New Jersey. Working over. Call you back later..." ~ A woman, mid forties, leaving a voice mail as she sits nestled and holding hands with a man behind me. 

Coffee shop employee: Sorry. We're closing. The machines are off.

Fly urban guy rockin' tats and a hoodie: Man, come on... I can't just get a quick latte?

Ah, as a writer, I love it! 

I've met musicians and artists and teachers and fellow writers. I share space with regulars--a med student and a woman out of work who researches/sends resumes via email all day--and we often encourage one another. "How's it going?" or "Any news?" We offer to one another. I do not even know their names. Yet, we are on a common pulse. There is something lovely about a coffee shop's atmosphere. Particularly, when you are are regular. 

Just today, a man sitting near me in workboots and garage shop gear got a call on his cell phone. "Nothing much," he said. "Just sipping a cup and flipping through a mag. Probably head on home in a bit. Long day."

Today, the lady at Border's "Seatlle's Best" Cafe knew my order before I even opened my mouth. I could do nothing but smile. It's a subculture, I believe, the coffee house experience. And sometimes, if you frequent often enough, it becomes familial in atmosphere. 

These are some of the reasons I love coffee shops, though I don't drink coffee. 

And there is a particular reason why I really, really love Starbucks these days!

It was a Monday, in Manhattan, the last time I recalled having my sunglasses. On Tuesday, I spent the evening at a Starbucks in Queens. On Wednesday, the sun was gleaming. I reached for my sunglasses, most often sitting atop my head, and I realized...

I had not seen nor worn them since Monday. I retraced all of my steps, checked all of my bags and pockets and... even in places of the house where I haven't been in days... like a box my mother sent a month ago and under the bathroom sink. Panic will do that. My mind raced. Had I thrown them away? I searched my car. I searched under the couch. I searched...

And I realized. I would likely never see my sunglasses again. I had visions of some fly mama smiling as she hailed a cab, looking nothing like me at all yet familiar in the eyes. 

OH, before you think, "Get over it, Philana. Sunglasses. Not. A. Big. Deal," which I know you probably are...

GUCCI. Yes. Gucci sunglasses. And on top of that, a GIFT from someone. And I'd only had them a year. I do not covet material things nor do I worship them but... forgive me, I kinda have a thing for Gucci. And for Gucci gifts. Can my fly girls make some noise, please? 

{{{{{{{{{{{{ insert applause and cheers from fellow fly girls}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

So anyhow, on Thursday, as life does go on, I'm in Starbucks, waiting on my order and, in a weak and probably pitifully hopeless tone, I asked Gabe, the guy who often waits on me, "Do you guys have a lost and found at all?"

One eyebrow raised, he says, "Why... You lose something?"

"Yeah..."

"What'd you lose?"

"(sigh) Sun (gulp) glasses..."

He smiles, "Gucci?"

So, it turned out that the last time I had them hadn't been Monday in Manhattan, as I remembered. It was Tuesday. In Queens. At Starbucks. And they'd been there ever since. 

They could have put them on Ebay. They could have sold them to a friend. They could have kept them. Instead, Gabe informed me they'd kept them safely in back, "Hoping that the owner would check in." He was pleasantly surprised that they were mine. I was pleasantly surprised that they were now back in my hand.

Okay, I'm lying. I was ECSTATIC. I wanted to jump over the counter and hug them all. I wanted to interrupt everyone working in the entire coffee shop that day and tell them my wonderful news. I wanted to cry. 

Trust me.... I lived most of my life, until last year, without owning a pair of Gucci sunglasses. I would have been fine without them, no doubt. And it was the sentiment behind the sunglasses that mattered, not the gift itself, so I had accepted that as well. 

But what excited me the most was knowing, having yet another pleasant reminder, that karma does come back. That when you try to do good sometimes it will come back to you when you least expect it. That there are, despite what we sometimes feel to believe, just really good people existing in this world. 

A few of them work at a Starbucks in Queens. 

I left a phat tip in their jar that day and made sure to tell the manager. As luck, or divine order perhaps, would have it, Rosa Grajeda, the fabulous woman who is the district manager happened to be in the house for a meeting that day. Of course, I requested that the manager ask her to stop by my table if she had time before leaving. 

And she did. It was a moment, of course, of encouragement for her--knowing the type of honest employees that Starbucks has working for them--but it was also a moment, woman to woman, fly chic to fly chic, of understanding. Gucci. Okay? :)

I promised Gabe and Rosa that I'd blog about this experience, one that I'll never forget. And I promise you that that this is just yet another reason why I really love being a member of the coffee shop culture. 

Having drank more than a lifetime's share of coffee in undergrad by that way, I now drink tea. 

Grande (or Medium, like today) "Refresh". Depending on the lingo of house I'm in. I love 'em all. 

xoxo,

P. Marie 

Fashion WEEK? Fashion FOREVER... (an ode to Oscar de la Renta)

Oscar de la Renta’s name is synonymous with authentic grace and true sophistication and his spring 2009 RTW prevailed as evidence sustained.

In what is the ongoing subliminal conversation in our society regarding fashion—it's place in history, whether or not it is art, it's contribution to popular culture—de la Renta's is perhaps the brand relied upon for the tried, the true, and the proven.

When I was a little girl and my mother spoke of glamour, so often it was the work of Oscar de la Renta that we discussed. As a young woman now, I truly understand his gift of elegance.

Oscar de la Renta's spring 2009 collection, showcased during Fashion Week, was a show void of all the ballyhoos we see with so many rising fashion stars/artists. There was no evidence that de la Renta may in any way be surrendering to the budding competition amongst designers for artistic expressionism.

Even the makeup exuded sophistication—eyes in smoked out glamour, cheeks shimmering in subtle pink and lips in a color described as “antique gold”!

And the palate of the fabrics—black, camel brown, Kelly green, blush pink and true red—proved that there remains in fashion the presence of classic refinement.

Not to worry. Oscar de la Renta offered hints of his brilliant innovation as well--the classic pantsuit with it's relaxed-structure for example.

The show was Jackie O’s glamour defined (her sister Lee Radizwell was on the front row) and Vogue's Anna Wintour’s sophistication explained (she too sat immediate to the stage.)

But also, as proof to Oscar’s appeal to us in younger generations who are sometimes less impressed by what’s hot and more by what is timeless, so sat Genevieve Jones and even Jennifer "J-Lo" Lopez (one of my personal style icons) up close.

Remember how Jenna Bush requested de la Renta to design her wedding gown this past spring? How evidence was that?

If grace were given a scent and elegance a smell, that would describe the imagined aroma present during Oscar de la Renta's show. It was—as is his legacy—pure, refreshing, timeless and beautiful.

Love!

P. Marie