The NY Life: Of an Intern

You know how sometimes, you just have a DAY? Yup, that was me last week. I started back to school which means 8 AM classes every day and work until 8 PM. Ugh. Wednesday I had class from 8-9:15 and I had a phone interview with a designer for FN at 9:45. Should be enough time to get from my school in downtown Brooklyn to midtown east but the trains did not work in my favor. I got out at 42nd street at 9:43.

Obviously, I panicked and since I still have this stupid boot on, I can't run and the office is a good 10 minute walk for a normal person. So, I looked around for a Starbucks (it's midtown-there should be a million!) so I could sit and write since I'm obviously not planning on recording it anymore. Of course, I found the one Starbucks that doesn't have seating! I was running around as quick as I could because I don't want to be late for my call!

Where did I sit? On the floor in Grand Central. Gross. And I had a birthday party at night so I'm wearing a fancy red dress that is now covered in dust and crap from the floor. I called the designer (a legwear CEO) and she didn't answer! I leave a message and wait on the floor for a little. A cop comes over and says that I can't sit there. Seriously?!?! Do you see what a mess I am? I get up and start to walk to the office holding my pen (Hello Kitty-all I had in my bag) and my notebook just in case she calls and I'm all tangled in my necklace so I pull on it to get it right and it BREAKS.

OK, no big deal it's from H&M, but the beads go all in my bra and down my dress. I'm in front of Grand Central with beads falling out of the bottom of my dress. I'm trying to get them all out and hustle to the office. Then, a woman stops me in front of the office to tell me that my dress is up in the back. I had just flashed 3rd Avenue for 15 minutes.

I'll spare the rest of the details, other than to say that I'm sure my co-workers thought I was nuts. The first time I went to the bathroom, beads came flying out of the stall.

I'll try to blog more so we can laugh, instead of me crying, at my crazy days!

I'm a Loser

OK, I know I'm not a loser. I've been living in NYC mostly sans any help since I was 18. No one paid for my rent or school. My mom or dad usually pay my phone bill and sometimes books or a medical expense when I need it but they aren't made of money. I'm 25 now and even though I'm still in school, taking my slow-ass time and working full time, I HATE asking for money. I had to suck it up and ask my mom to pay my cable bill and it is quite depressing. I know she doesn't mind but it makes me feel horrible, like I can't get my shit together. My roommates' parents pay everything for them (they're 22-23.) It's no big deal for them and they are really awesome girls. For some reason, it hurts my soul to take money from my mom. I know a lot of adults, I'm an adult but like 30s, whose parents paid for a down payment on an apartment, a student loan or two, etc. When is the last time you asked for money? How did you feel? Do you think 25 is WAY too old? What's the cut-off until you're a loser? :(

Little Feet in the Big City

I’m standing at the corner of 5^th Avenue and 16^th Street in a navy blue, silk, Betsey Johnson dress, bought for $40 at a sample sale, with floral Keds on my feet. Its 10 AM and I have to find appropriate shoes for my boss’s fancy Manhattan wedding by 4:00 this afternoon. By now my dress is wrinkled from sweat. I’ve been to 6 shoe stores. I’m upset and frustrated because I decided at the last minute against the black pumps I had picked out, deciding they were too heavy for the summery dress. This is a big night for me; I’ll see people I haven’t seen in years and make first impressions on major Broadway bigwigs. I want to look good and the salespeople of NYC seem to be against that happening. You see, I’m a shoe size 5 at the largest and before you say how cute that is, think about if you’ve ever actually seen them in a store, and if they had Dora the Explorer on them or light up bottoms.

The Huffington Post reported about the size 5 shoe phase out last year and it seems to be getting worse. Blogs such as Glamour.com had heated discussions, with my fellow small feet people expressing outrage! How could they do this to us? Do only size 6 and bigger matter? It’s not as if 5s don’t exist. They do, but they are either very high end and out of my price range or just plain ugly. Don’t get me wrong, I probably have over 50 pairs of shoes but it’s only because I’m afraid to get rid of any of them. I’ve tried everything to make a size 5 ½ or 6 fit, such as insoles or stuffing the toe, but it usually only results in me having bloody feet or tripping down the steps. Embarassing.

There are whole groups of people with whom I feel a connection with. Plus sized woman have a hard time finding cute and actually stylish clothes. Pretty bras are difficult to find for busty girls. Everywhere I look there’s fashion discrimination! For the wedding, I tried Nine West first because they have a million different affordable choices. Before I even look at the shelves, I ask which styles come in a 5. The first thing people do is look at my feet and say, “Well, a 6 is really small here. Why don’t we try it?” Inevitably, I will be talked into trying on dozens that will never fit me and I leave totally embarrassed. After Nine West, I tried Aldo (1 pair of flats,) Payless (1 row of all weather boots and sneakers-no Christian Siriano for me,) and finally Filene’s Basement. I settled on a pair of too high, too expensive, really uncomfortable silver heels. I never wore them again.

While shoes may not seem an important thing to stress over, when you’re 25 years old and trying to make an impression in the post-college world, everything feels important. Alexandra Robbins, who wrote Quarter-Life Crisis: The Unique Challenges of Life in Your Twenties, says, “The quest to define ourselves begins during childhood, but when twentysomethings enter the ‘real’ world, the process can seem to start all over again..." Am I fun and funky enough to be different and wear my Keds to the wedding? Am I a sophisticated and stylish New Yorker who wears a sensible heel with arch support? Or should I pick the highest heel I can find to make my legs look super long? Maybe I don’t know exactly who I am yet, but a choice in footwear doesn’t seem like too much to ask.

According to BBC News, the average woman’s shoe size was a 5 in 1951. For whatever reason, extra weight makes the feet wider, or we are wearing more sensible footwear, the average is now an 8. Hunting through vintage stores, like Tokio7 in the East Village, I can sometimes find 4 ½ sized gems. I used to be too embarrassed to talk to shop owners about my foot size, thinking that they will look at me with those big eyes and make me try on a 6. As I’ve gotten older, I’m starting to get more comfortable and outspoken. I have realized that if you become friendly with the owners, they will hold the small shoes for you, or give you a call when they come in. I’ve also started bragging to my size 7 friends that I’m usually incredibly jealous of, that my new Nike running shoes were $35 since they are for kids. Not that I’m not still disappointed when my friends get together for a Louboutin sample sale, and the one size 5 is gone in the first 5 minutes. I’ve actually waited outside of Marc Jacobs for 3 hours to be the first to snatch the 35s. I had to elbow and push a few tiny girls but I left with 3 pairs.

My goal as I enter my late twenties and early thirties is to except my small feet for what they are. I’m going to become one of those classically dressed woman, who own 3 pairs of shoes that look great with everything. I’m going to laugh with people when I trip and they say, “Your feet are too small to hold you up.” Maybe I’ll become a handbag girl. Have fun at the 10022, so big it needs its own zip code, shoe floor at Saks. I’ll be downstairs checking out the new “It” bag. Because with bags, one size fits all and in fashion, that’s a beautiful thing.

I AM a plastic bag.

The $15 Anya Hindmarch bag has the world going crazy. Its a really great idea. I take a bag to the store with me so I don't waste plastic ones and hopefully more people will. BUT don't get it just because its super trendy right now. On my way to Pilates, I saw a girl using the bag as a purse AND also carrying a real plastic bag full of stuff. No words.

Chickens, Stalkers, and Loner-ness.

Make your own KFC sign at peta2.com

I promise; I'm not going to preach. Of course I wish everyone would stop eating meat but I would never say that because it isn't (really) any of my business. KFC is one of those corporations that go beyond..OK i'll stop. If you are interested, go to the Peta website. You can add words to this billboard like I did. Its silly, but also read about the things that KFC does to animals.

Switching gears, maybe its a little to early to call him a stalker but a weird thing happened to me today and I don't really know what to think. I just joined a new bank and I was really excited about it. Like many college students, especially here in NYC, I'm really tight on cash but I got my tax return, paid off some bills, and was feeling very adult and responsible. When I went to the bank the other day, the manager really helped me out with my account. He cleared some checks for me that wouldn't have been cleared yet and some other little things, nothing huge. So today, I went back in because I didn't get my mac card (wait, that's so PA, I meant my ATM card) and I needed to make a deposit. The same manager was there so he helped me out. OK, get this: A few hours later, he called my cell and asked me out. Now, I didn't give him my number so he obviously got it from the bank records. I KNOW he's not aloud to do that. He's nice enough; He's young and isn't creepy or anything but still. It's a little strange. He caught me totally off guard so I didn't really say no exactly, which I should have, but I did tell him I was really busy. He called again a few hours later and left a message. I didn't call back but I was walking home thinking, "He knows my address". Because of that, I need to call him back and nip this in the bud. What do I say? I'll probably play the gay card so he's not offended. Am I overreacting thinking its a little creepy? What would you guys do?

So, he's a nice enough guy, why don't I just go out with him? Well, I'm in a loner stage. I have been in a relationship since I was 12 years old and I'm just over it at the moment. I want to go to the gym, read mags all day at B & N, and watch DVR 'till I pass out. I work all the time, while trying to focus on my dreams. Have you guys ever been in this stage? Its normal, right? My grand-mom tells people that I don't have a social life. Maybe I don't have the BIGGEST one right now but I'm OK with that. Like, really OK. I'm going to a party Sunday night so I'm not CRAZY anti-social ;) I'm watching Queer as Folk reruns and getting ready for bed. Have a great weekend!!