Tuesday, 14 September 2010

Theatre and Fashion on Broadway

I missed a work meeting and felt little of it, as was my habit at the time.

I joined the usual morning hustle of normal people who wake before 12pm. I had coffee. I had the subway, all the way up to Times Square. I was late but not too late.

I walked around the road blocks and squeezed myself in, as close as I could, to Broadway on Broadway. It was lovely. Inspiring. A little lame at times with an ad campaign having to film twice. Pathetic.

They sung Empire State of Mind and confetti streamed down from the buildings around us. It was quaint. It was joyous. I felt a little sad.

The coffee, as always, went straight through me, and I wandered around nervously looking for a bathroom. I'm very nervous about seeking out public toilets. I don't like to ask restaurants. I don't like to be rejected. I also never know what I'm getting. Thankfully the Applebees on 50th or something happily let me in. It must be a common thing. I was thankful for common - and clean! - toilets.

Down into the warm Subway again, and up at Lincoln for Fashion Week. I went simply to People Watch. There was a covered passageway that all the people with tickets were entering and exiting. I watched them arrive, I watched the paid-photographers and enthusiasts and fashion bloggers run after the incredibly stylish one. Watched the faces, frozen in a look of, I don't care but I really do care about what all these people think of me. So many delightfully inappropriate costumes for this weather.

I just leaned up against a column, holding my iPhone and a magazine that a promoter had given out and I suppose I looked like I was waiting for someone or something, but all I did was look and smile with delight. I probably seemed quite creepy.

It soon grew to cold to hang around and after one lousy iPhone snap of these cool kids hanging around for their car, I dived back into the subway. I was full of inspiration. To be oh-so-New York. To be grown up. So I bought the Sunday Times and felt awesome with the weight in my arms. It's totally ridiculous that inky paper can make on feel that way. It becomes a trend. You become a poser. However, I was seriously concerned about it's depths. I wanted to read every thing.

Dr. Johnson was working at Next New Networks. I met him for a sandwich and then wanted to just chill out in the office and do my own work, out of every one's way. Except I happened to pick a toy hamster that would not stop making this ridiculously loud noise. After so many attempts of getting it to shut up, we buried it deep in a box somewhere and it eventually grew quiet. Thank goodness. Dr. Johnson felt nervous about me being there, so I left, tail between my legs.

I dreamed of legs actually. Then I just hung out, read the paper, watched Dexter, deleted a Myspace and another Internet version of myself.

1 comment:

Vicky, yo! said...

It feels strange to read this, because I know the feeling. The way simple acts and abjects, such as a newspaper, a day filled with activities, can make you feel productive. Like an adult. And then you start to think how grown up you must look with the paper/cell phone/cup of coffee in your hands, hurrying to your next destination, which the people around can only guess to. And then you feel less like an adult and more like a girl playing pretend again... I may be reading too much into this.

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