As most readers know, I am not from New York. I am from Belfast, Maine where, as you can imagine, the taxi culture is limited. If you peruse the Yellow Pages, you will find a few taxi companies that service Waldo County, but the companies are usually just folks with a spare station wagon looking… Read more »
“I used to ride in my father’s rumble seat,” Dad told me while we sat at the bar in Loftus Tavern. As Dad drank a short beer and I sipped a Coke, I wondered what’s a rumble seat? He said, “It was a seat that hinged out of the back of the car; it felt… Read more »
We left off last week with me and Sarah Jessica Parker alone in an elevator, her a guest at an awards ceremony honoring Cynthia Nixon, and me a volunteer working the event. She had just told me that she loved my outfit, which included an oversized flower pin à la Carrie Bradshaw. The year was 2006…. Read more »
I got married in a BCBGMAXAZRIA party dress that I ordered online from Nordstrom’s for $288. Because my dress budget was low, my shoe budget was high. Until that point, the most expensive shoes I’d ever purchased were a pair of Steven by Steve Madden satin paisley d’Orsay pumps for $89.99, which I adored and… Read more »
Can you be in love with a city—real, complex, complicated love? Absofuckinglutely. Can you be irritated, frustrated, and pissed with said city? Posifuckingtively. After posting last week’s ode to New York, I read a refreshing, candid article in W magazine (I know—it’s the last place I’d expect to find anything refreshing and candid either) by… Read more »
Last week, as I re-watched “Models and Mortals” in preparation for this column, I realized something startling: I am finally as old as Carrie was in Season One. I am finally 32. Ten years ago, on September 11th, 2001, I was living in New York for the first time, subletting a place on 137th Street… Read more »
Last Saturday night I went to a get together at my friend’s apartment in Astoria. The event was a clothing swap, a popular phenomenon of late. You prepare for a clothing swap by going through your closet and removing all of the items you know you’ll never wear again. You put your pile of discards… Read more »
Taking the Sex and the City bus tour is not unlike going to a Broadway show. You buy your ticket in advance. You arrive at the venue and someone shows you to your seat. You squeeze in tight rows, knee to knee with strangers, and wait for the curtain to rise. As a tour guide, I… Read more »
When you are a writer and you live in New York, you sometimes take odd jobs in order to earn a living. I pay my bills by walking in the footsteps of a fellow (albeit fictional) New York writer, Miss Carrie Bradshaw. I am a Sex and the City tour guide. My workday starts on the… Read more »
