There are several ways to express my love for New York in prose.  I can write a well thought out declaration to the city that birthed and made me who I am, but somehow that doesn’t seem sufficient. More than anything else, it’s a feeling best captured by the creaky, wayward notes in Amy’s songs.  Jazz-the pulsating, rhythmic, and beautiful calamity that encompasses the passionate madness of New York.  Each syncopated sound perfectly encapsulating all of my experiences from Franklin Ave to West 66th Street. I spent years (more…)


10 Ways Looking Young for Your Age Actually Sucks


Any time I’ve complained about looking young for my age, the general response has been *record scratch* Bish, Please! Yes, that’s right, being mistaken for at least 10 years younger than my age, on average, is perceived as a major plus by society.  It’s not a surprising reaction, considering how the media constantly inundates women with anti-aging products, in the hopes that we part ways with our dollars in pursuit of the intangible fountain of youth.  However, the more I describe my woes, the more I realize that people are confusing looking youthful with looking childish.  To be mistaken for a 12-14 year old… (more…)

Dear Brooklyn, Love Mademjoselle


The  love I have  for my hometown is not complicated. It’s a simple love of the unconditional variety.  I only broke up with Brooklyn once when I went away to college, a much-needed break considering the hordes of people I encountered on my daily 2 train commute. It was like leaving your high school boyfriend whose only flaw, by default, is he is the only thing you know, and you’re curious to see what else is out there.  Needless to say, I found out and came running back.  I ran back to the place that raised me.  I was a kid with a stoop, tumbling down the streets of my youth and playing ball on the narrow blocks and dead-end streets of brownstone Brooklyn.  The place where the first sign of summer wasn’t a particular date in June, but (more…)