Tuesday, December 18, 2007

I'm Feeling Ambivalent About New York - Part II

I avoid Midtown.

Not completely - no one can avoid Midtown completely - but I do my best. Sure, I've been to a few plays there, I had a couple friends who lived unsettlingly close to Times Square and once, for reasons not quite clear to me, I ended up doing yoga under the Cup O'Noodles billboard, but mostly I've managed to stay away from that particular part of the city.

But last week my boss asked me to take a huge stack of papers up to 53rd and Park for signatures and what could I say? "Midtown's a little busy for me" is not a valid excuse at work.

So off I went. Here's what I was wearing: work boots, unfashionable jeans, a hoodie with cuffs so worn they look like lace, fingerless gloves left over from my smoking days, and a puffy, maroon Rocawear jacket that might be styling in Harlem, but is definitely not up to the rest of Manhattan's hipster code.

I got off the subway, climbed the stairs, and found myself headed east on a crosstown street that resembled nothing if not an Armani runway. Tailored suits, splashy ties, colored purses matched - but not too matched - with leather pumps. Pinstripes, lipstick, jewelry sets. Edgy buns, salads in plastic, shapeshifting cell phones. Diamonds and pearls and gold. And me dodging briefcases in my torn MFA chic, crooked glasses and all.

This alone wouldn't have phased me. I've spent years being underdressed around rich people. Besides, writers are allowed a certain nerdy carelessness, like we've just got too much going on to check a mirror on the way out the door. What got to me, what made me feel suddenly and strongly ambivalent about New York, even after all my gushing and my Metrocard miracle, was that those perfectly dressed people were just like me - twenty-somethings on $25-an-hour errands, everyone stern and eager, walking really, really fast, in desperate need of rent money.

And in that moment, I hated this place.

Young people here have to work so hard. Our rent is more than our parents' mortgage. We spend more on food than most families of four. Why else would we go to such ridiculous lengths? Matching pearls? Dry cleaning bills? Humanitarian dreams reduced to zeros? In our twenties? Even those of us wandering the creative path are only plunging further into graduate debt, grasping laughably at the slim Lotto shot of paying it back in less than forty years. We were all so desperate that Midtown afternoon, pounding down 53rd, jostling at lights for a position out front, determined to show our bosses, each other, how worth it we were.

As I neared Park Ave, a girl came towards me in a a fitted gray suit, hair and heels high, cell phone squeezed between her shoulder and cheek. She was carrying four Starbucks coffees, three shopping bags, a five-inch three-ring binder, and her purse. Which matched her shoes. "Of course," she was saying into her phone. "Whole grain, dijon, chicken breast." She looked like she was about to cry.

I almost stopped her.

"Hey," I wanted to say. "It's okay. I don't know how I'm going to make it to Friday, either. And even though my feet hurt less than yours, and your bank account is less terrifying than mine, at the end of the day we're all just getting coffee for some rich guy.

"We can live here, we can swing rent, we might even manage health insurance, but God forbid we mistake this city for a place that wants us. New York doesn't want us. If it wanted us, you wouldn't be dressed like your mother, I wouldn't be dressed like a bum, and living here amidst the millionaires wouldn't feel so much like begging."

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Thanks for finishing this Miranda, you truly do have a gift with words. This is a great story.

I am so glad to hear your are writing fiction, I kept thinking that once the initial shock of loosing Kyle wears off, the writing will follow.

I find that one of the hardest things in life is timing. If the world would just allow us to do things at our own individual pace, when we are ready, not when others assume we are ready, life would be so much kinder.

For me the pressure of everyone else's agenda often makes me feel like I am drowning. When I have the courage to stand up and not conform to the whims and fancy's of others is when I am at my best.

My dream for you Miranda, is that one day you will have a best seller, and money will no longer be a constant nagging issue. You will be able to live where you choose , wherever it is that most inspires your writing and if you want matching purses, you will have them.

Now, as far as not blogging these days, I will still check in everyday just in case. If I don't hear from you, I'll be pleased thinking, perhaps she is writing. and if you are just sitting there doing nothing I will also be pleased that you are being you.

I can't think of any better sign of a good writer then one that leaves the readers wanting more. You have that area covered my dear.

Lunafly said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Lunafly said...

A couple of months ago I decided to join the Manchester Young Professionals Network (www.mypn.org). Now I should've known by the over use of the word "trendy" on their website what I was geting myself into. Mind you, there is nothing trendy about Manchester. By the time I left my first and only event I never wanted to see another Blackberry or Coach purse again. (Keep in mind, up until two years ago, when I came back down from the north country, I thought blackberries were just a tasty wild fruit and coach a type of bus)So even in NH I know that aweful stomach turning feeling of watching your fellow 20-somethings kiss their youthful dreams goodbye. Somedays I find myself cynical listening and relistening to "Working Class Hero", but I do try and be optimistic. We'll make our way.

Anonymous said...

"Humanitarian dreams reduced to zeros?"

A great phrase can give me something to chew on all day. I'm chewing.

The whole piece is great. Send it to The New Yorker. Today.

Anonymous said...

Wow...I love the community here at Mir's blog...not only do I get to read your smart bits about NY and imagine what it might be like...I also get to read encouraging words from the others and marvel that the wisdom of generations is being passed along... and that a young woman in the country can relate to a young woman in the city....I think that is inspiring!

Also...New Yorker, yes - but have you ever read the shite that passes for journalism in Vanity Fair??? - a fairly bipolar rag, I know - but I say, hit them all up with vignettes about your relationship with NY city - it is worth the read - and everyone always wants more... : )

Justin said...

It may not always look like it, but those coffee-fetchers are chasing dreams too. That's just part of the apprenticeship.