Weird is the new normal...a look back at the decade from the 10,000 foot view

10 years ago I had no idea which square state was Colorado.
9 years ago I had never attended a free concert.
8 years ago I had never climbed a mountain.
7 years ago I had some of the best friends a girl could ask for.
6 years ago I was wondering whether I should live on the East Coast, the West Coast or in Ireland.
5 years ago I was just wondering how I'd pay the bills.
4 years ago I was living on my own for the first time.
3 years ago I had the best roommates ever and dreamt up a sitcom based on our lives.
2 years ago I was making big plans and fulfilling a lifelong dream.
1 year ago I was wondering where love was.
This year I am noticing that everything is starting over again.

I was home sick on Friday and I ended up watching "Big" on HBO. I haven't seen the full cut of the movie in years. A few things struck me as I was watching the movie. First, this movie is so earnest it was hard to watch parts of it. Second, I recognized 90% of the location shots because unlike movies today where Vancouver fills in for NYC (no offense, Vancouver) "Big" was actually shot in Soho. And third, as a kid you know everything. When you have an idea as a kid you are stopped by nothing. You make it happen.

Looking back on the last 10 years it's easy to be critical about all the things I hoped to accomplish but haven't. But lately I've been feeling some of that good old optimism so instead I choose to look back on the goals I have reached as well as some happy accidents. Going to Colorado State was for sure a happy accident. As a junior in high school I wasn't excited about college at all, though I was excited about getting the heck out of Connecticut. And mostly that worked out well. My first jobs out of college were rough but working at the paper in Danbury was a happy accident. Moving to NYC was a lifelong dream achieved. And it's a lot tougher than it seemed. The girl who hates technology ends up working in the field. My last two jobs have been happy accidents, ditto the awesome friends I've made along the way. I went on a tropical vacation; I went to Europe just before my kiddie passport expired; I stalked bands and made friends with some; I chased boys and let some chase me; I stayed out all night and I slept all day. Enjoying the little victories is sometimes just as sweet.

Of course the story has also been filled with twists, turns and shocks. A lot of the time I find myself thinking that a situation turned out oddly. But now I see that for me weird is the new normal and I am really bad at predicting how a situation will turn out. It's not so much that I leave things to chance now. I am slowly getting better at accepting destiny as much as I determine my own fate. Whatever will be will be and all that good stuff.

Much as there are some moments I'd love to erase, much as there are some that I'd like to redo, I don't want to let go of this moment of youth. The next 10 years may be the best of my life. Maybe in 10 years I'll realize these last 10 were it. I am ready to say goodbye to this decade yet I don't want to let go. I am still working on making peace with time.

Grabbing my health by the horns

Last week's September 11 anniversary was bearable and for that I am thankful. I thought about it a lot in the morning, especially now that I live down in FiDi. The worst was hearing the parade of sirens go by -- that really got me. I stopped by the reflecting pool on the way to work to drop off a flower in D's honor. I still think of him every time I see a fire engine go by.

Otherwise the same three topics (music, money, health) are still swirling in my head. For this month health seems to have come to the forefront. Whatever this cough I have is I still have it and it sucks. It's now a dry, hacking loveliness that sometimes makes me gasp for air. It feels like I have something stuck in there. Back to the doc once blood tests come back, hopefully he can help me figure out what the hell this thing is.

In the meantime I started looking for a nutritionist. It's obvious I'm going to need some help getting myself in order so professional help can't hurt. Especially when covered by my work's actually kind of awesome health care. I found a recommended nutritionist right by my work. She even had after hours appointments which is a huge plus. Located in a fancy Soho dermatologist's office, the place was a bit intimidating but the doc herself was great.

I met with her for almost 2 hours. I was honest with her -- no sense in lying when my physical appearance belies -- about my diet and activity level. We went through my food and exercise routine. We talked about what kinds of foods I like and I don't like. We discussed attainable goals. She gave me some materials to read and helped me assemble about 20 different meals to try over the next 3 weeks. It actually got me kind of excited!

It's not like she didn't say things I already know. You have to burn more calories than you eat to lose weight. You have to exercise. Etc. Truth is I just need someone kicking my ass a little bit about it. I went to Whole Foods and bought $100 in groceries. I almost went into shock. I think I usually spend $25/week on groceries. Then I realized that all the crap I've been ordering in has been pushing me over $100 easily and then I didn't feel so bad. The hardest part is going to be giving up soda. I'm really not sure I can do it. But at least I've cut back to 1 can per day for now.

I already feel a bit better. I'm going back in 3 weeks for a follow-up visit. Hopefully there will be good news.

I have seen Fashion Week, and it is great

It's Fashion Week here in NYC and I must admit I'm really getting into it this year. In high school and college I was quite the junior fashionista. When I re-arrived in NYC I had the opportunity to walk in a plus-size show for a friend who styles (plus size! I'm an 8 for goodness sake!). In 2006 I attended three shows in the tents and in 2007 I was at one. But more recently my body and budget issues have put my fashionista aspirations on the back burner. Over the last couple of mmy freelance projects have revolved around fashion. Though the industry is kind of messed up in terms of ego savagery it's been fun to get back into the exciting whirlwind that is FASHION, all caps.

This year I was particularly interested in getting into Leifsdottir's Spring 2010 presentation. I realized it too late and didn't start making calls to the peeps I know until the beginning of September. I didn't have high hopes. Though I had no luck through my connections it was great to get in touch with friends, some of whom I hadn't spoken with in a couple of years.

Usually the response I got was, "Can't do Leifsdottir but I can get you into X." I was shocked! I got invites to some great shows. All I had to do was ask!

Friday was by far the craziest day. After failing to get an invite to Leifsdottir through friends by sheer luck Anthropologie's PR firm invited me directly. I could not have been more excited. I put in a 3/4 day at work and then went to the presentation. Unfortunately my partner in crime F had to bail so I went by myself. It was such a beautiful presentation and I loved just about every single piece. The presentation was my first time blogging about a show and I had trouble editing myself because I was so pleased with what I saw. Here's the post.



Friday was GROSS in NYC -- rainy and cold and more like October or April than September. Soaked to the bone, I ran from 38th St & 7th Ave to the tents to make Nicole Miller. Thank goodness these shows always start late. My friend J was understandably pissed that I was late but once the show started all was forgiven. I loved Ms. Miller's show. She had an intense peacock modern print in several pieces that I found intensely awesome, even from the second-to-last row.

I was a bit embarrassed by how underdressed I was. I usually break out the DVF for Fashion Week and had my Pilar dress set to go. The rain completely messed with my plans. I ended up in jeans, a white tank and a grandpa cardi. Not exactly front row material.



I did much better on Saturday. Rain again killed my Pilar plans but I did wear a fabulous pair of wide leg trousers, awesome 4" ruffle heels and a Theory blouse that was flatteringly...umm...flattering. I was lucky enough to see Christian Siriano's show on the promenade. Again I was in the second-to-last row but I heard that many people didn't even get in so I have zero complaints. His collection was stunning even from that far back. I saw later in the online pictures just how cool the prints he made were and there were several pieces I only wish I was famous enough to have an occasion to wear. My friend F tried to introduce me to Tim Gunn but the poor man, dapper as ever, was swarmed.



And yesterday it was a dream come true as I somehow got into Diane Von Furstenberg's show. I kept pinching myself...could not believe it was real. I broke out a Missoni dress and a pair of Cole Haan heels. Looking at some of the frocks inside the tent I would have been safe in DVF. I love almost all of her stuff but last year was a rare miss for me. I liked what I saw for 2010 a lot better. I didn't think her show photographed very well. The photos I've seen have not captured the movement her pieces had.

The end of the weekend was almost a relief. I have an invite to one more show: Nanette Lepore on Wednesday. I would love love LOVE to go but it's smack in the middle of work. Not sure what I'm going to do. But in terms of seeing shows Fashion Week has already been quite the lucky success.

Finding a doctor in NYC: just as hard as it looks

I don't get sick very often anymore but when I do I am down for the count. Anything lung-affecting is the worst; I've suffered from decreased lung capacity since I was a kid. About 2 weeks ago I started coughing. I was so pissed because I know I got sick at the hospital. I was there for a consultation. I walked in healthy. I walked out sick. I knew it was pretty bad when I started waking up in the middle of the night to cough. Then came to lovely phlegm and waking up with a burning throat. There was no avoiding it: I needed to see a doctor.

Since college I've pretty much avoided the regular doctor. I've been good about the dentist and the lady doctor. But I'm young, spry and healthy. Plus health insurance is so friggin confusing. How much is my co-pay? What kind of doctors can I see? Etc. And forget asking friends for referrals -- all my friends are doctor-aversive like me. Cheating sickness by way of not seeing the doctor.

I had been going to a walk-in clinic so I tried there first. The doctors are mostly medical students doing their rotations and they're pretty nice. The doc I saw took a throat culture which came back negative, decided I didn't have the flu and recommended I take Sudafed and cough medicine. And that was it. I tried both, and while I slept (and snored, I'm sure) like a baby I woke up feeling worse and worse. After a few days I woke up one morning with what felt like blood in my throat. It was so nasty. So I went back and they gave me cough medicine with codeine. Which again helped me sleep but I wasn't getting better. I needed a real doctor.

I turned to my insurer's online physician finder. It was helpful in terms of proximity but less than helpful in terms of anything else. In a city like New York I feel like it's important to have a certified, friendly, highly-recommended doctor. And you'd think there'd be plenty of resources for finding just that doctor. But there's really not. New York Magazine publishes an annual list of Best Doctors but it's like those Who's Who books...you buy your way in. The few websites devoted to doctor ratings had little to no information about most of the doctors.

So it became a crapshoot. The first listing I tried was a nightmare. It turned out it was affiliated with Social Services, which made for all kinds of interesting characters at the office. There were also a bunch of unsavory characters. I was lucky enough to go on a day when they were having a recovering alcoholics group come through. It was the first time in New York I felt scared. I left before my appointment.

Third time's the charm so after failures with walk-in clinics and physician finders I called a friend of a friend who is a receptionist for a plastic surgeon in the city. She found a doctor right by my work. It was nuts. I called his cell phone, then he had me call his Brooklyn office to make an appointment. It's like some kind of secret code you have to follow. But he had after hours appointments so I didn't complain.

The next night I went to the office which was above an upscale retailer. I checked in and started filling out the forms. It was just me and a couple in the waiting area. By the third page I realized they were asking an awful lot about my sexual history. Then I started noticing the office decor. An African fertility statue. Literature about cord blood. Some ad for a pregnant New Yorkers network. Oh my god, I realized. I was at a family practice, not a general practitioner. I almost left but I was so miserable and just wanted to see some doctor, any friggin doctor.

Still it was kind of mortifying when the doctor called me back and the first words that spewed out of my mouth were "uh, I may have made a mistake, I'm not pregnant or anything, I just have a cough!" He just laughed an explained that he was an MD and that the other doctors in the office specialized in fertility and family medicine. Oh. Glad we got that out of the way! The second mortifying moment was when I had to weigh myself. I know I have packed on some pounds in the past month or so and I'm already taking steps to rectify the issue. Still, it was pretty devastating to see the scale land on the heaviest weight I've ever been in my life. Just by a few poinds, but still! I'm surprised I didn't lose a pound in carbon dioxide by how much that deflated me. Not the end of the world certainly but considering I've actually really picked up my exercise routine it's unnerving.

The doc turned out to be pretty cool though. He proscribed some Zithromax for the cough (hello again Zithromax...you and I met many times through Tonsilitis in college). Then he talked general health with me for a bit. My parents are both type II diabetics and lord I do not want to suffer the same fate. Doc told me to go get some blood work, hands me a form, recommends I hook up with a nutritionist, and wants to see me again in 2 weeks to follow up. It's just the beginning but this could be the beginning of a beautiful doctor-patient relationship. I think I found my NYC doc, and it only took 3 years.

Where the hell was this clothing 10 years ago when I needed it??!?

If I had a time machine, I would go on a shopping spree right now for rockstar clothing. Then I would go back in time to 1999 when I was 17, actively in a band and could actually wanted and needed this stuff. Now I just want it. Man I want this clothing badly. But at 27 with no band, not even a hint of one and damaged vocal chords...yeah. I could probably pull this stuff off on the weekends...no, maybe not. Even though I can pull of fashion chameleon pretty well I just can't see myself pulling off rockstar daily anymore without a legitimate reason.

Walking around Soho today was an exercise in jaw dropping. I'd expect to see this kind of stuff at Topshop or Mango or Necessary Clothing or the like. H&M? Maybe. But walking around Express and Guess seeing the look was both awesome and so friggin unfair.

Some of the options:



I would have killed for these looks at 17. Time. Machine. I cannot tell a lie -- I might buy a couple of these anyway. Just to parade around my apartment when I sing along with my Apple TV at the top of my lungs. It's a good thing my building has thick walls. Or for when I go to concerts as infrequent as that is these days.

Even Nanette Lepore is getting in on the act:

It left me a little speechless. I am just so jealous of all the peeps who will be rocking these looks while I stick to preppy chic. Not that I mind preppy chic, it's just more buttoned up than rockstar.

My guitars are staring at me right now. And they are frowning.

I am shopping my closet and unhappy with the goods

Deep thoughts at Central Park

So I'm on a spending budget for the first time in awhile (cue world's smallest violin, I know) and of course as part of this I am shopping my closet. It's kind of nice because I have 3 closets but it also kind of sucks because it's opened my eyes to just how disordered my fashion sense has become in the last 12 months.

I can recall it clearly about 13 months ago. I had finished paying off my credit cards a few months earlier and was banking money. But it was also when my stress + available credit card limits combined for the perfect storm of spendthrift. The upside was that I bought some truly fabulous clothing pieces. The downside was that I can clearly see that I was thinking in terms of impulse (ooh, need that, want that) instead of practical, more outfit-driven terms. I'm not really mad at myself because of the happiness it brought me at the time -- and I seriously needed that pickmeup -- but the collateral damage sucks. There is the credit card debt which I think I've whined about enough at this point. Making payments for now until I can afford to clear them for good.

Then there is the realization that I have very few complete outfits. This is part one of why I keep shopping. I have lots of 3/4 outfits: tops with bottoms but no shoes. Or shoes but no real outfit direction to pair with them. Accessories that are good for dressing up but I'm not going out much right now. Fabulous dresses without an event to wear them to. Who stares at their closet every morning wondering what the hell to wear? I do. The sad part is that I have lots of stuff that I love. But very few complete looks.

I've also realized that I completely fell away from my rules of shopping. I am having the typical personal shopper's crisis! I can dress other people just fine (and damn well if I may toot my own horn a bit) but ask me to put myself together and watch me accomplish mediocre at best. I bought bohemian and preppy and modern and classic with blatant disregard for how items would work together or what I needed vs. wanted.

Right now I'm working up the guts to go through my closet and honestly discard the items I don't wear. Some items I hope to sell but most I'll probably donate. The problem is the superficial attachment to the clothing. Oh, this top makes me look thin! I wore these jeans on a hot date! This cardigan is soooo comfy! Etc.

After that's done I will have to revisit my rules which are something like:
1. Only 2 impulse items per season (I have sucked at this rule since moving down to NYC)
2. You should not own more than 2 items in the same color
3. If you cannot think of 3 things to wear with an item, you cannot buy it
4. If you don't wear it within 10 days of purchase, it goes back! (unless purchased at end-of-season sale)
5. Just because it's on sale does not mean buy it
6. Dressy pieces must be bought with an intended use
7. You can justify an expensive buy ONLY IF you believe the cost per wear will work out to be $5/wear or less in the course of 6 months
8. If you see someone else in it on the street and can't style it differently, it goes back
9. Don't give into discount goods unless you will honestly love it next year too
10. If you can't pay it off within 2 billing cycles you can't buy it

I am looking forward to and dreading the upcoming purge. I am also swooning over so many fall pieces I can't buy. Hooray for the reintroduction of budgeting, boo for the lack of disposable income. All in all I'm in pretty good shape...now if I could just find someone to sublet my apartment....so I could get back on-topic!!

If I were waffling any more, I'd need syrup

Money. It's that lame omnipresent thought that is probably making me age at twice the normal rate. In case you had not heard the economy is not so great right now and here in NYC it's one of those weird undercurrents. I've had too many of my friends lose their jobs. And it sucks. I hate every second of this whole Great Recession.

On the selfish front I've been watching my credit card balances creep back up for several months now. I am the pendulum that swings back and forth between saving all my money (I was pretty damn rich in 2005-2007!!) to nearly broke (college). Right now I'm doing OK. I'm not living paycheck to paycheck. I have a money market account. But that account is at its minimum and I pay a penalty if I drop below that minimum. I have a small savings cushion but I'm saving that for a real emergency, liking suddenly needing to get out of NYC.

Two of my friends and I took out one of our unemployed friends out for dinner this past week. At dinner we were talking about getting stiffed on freelance gigs. It's happened to me recently and my poor friend just got shafted on about $5,000. She's been jobless since February and she and her boyfriend are dangerously close to losing their apartment. He works but it isn't enough to make full rent payments so they're close to being evicted. She's so smart and talented at what she does (web design) and it is INSANE to me that there is no job out there for her. It's certainly not for lack of trying on her part.

This of course got me pretty freaked out. I started thinking about my own finances. And in my typical exercise in extremes way I settled on the idea that I needed to do something right away to shore myself up financially. I called T and asked if one of his financial friends could assess me. He sent me to a friend who is a financial planner to the rich. The friend, G, kindly agreed to see me on Thursday evening. His midtown office is on the 40-something-th floor of a snazzy high-rise with views of Midtown East. I felt pretty VIP even going there. (The security guards were freaked out by my currently-purple hair. Just as it should be.)

So G and I spoke frankly. We talked assets -- my paycheck, stuff I own (not much), stocks I own (none), investments (ditto), 401k (one withdrawn early, one teeny). Then we talked debts. College loans, credit cards, etc. I ducked in my chair. "Remember what it was like to be in your 20s making under 100k!" I pleaded. "I started at 150k out of college," he replied with a smirk (he was making a funny, I know it doesn't sound like it). Damn finance people.

G's advice wasn't really surprising but it still sucked. He told me I was spending way too much of my income on rent, even for a NYC resident. I already knew this but just didn't want to admit it. He recommended moving somewhere super cheap for a year or two to pay off my credit cards and then start thinking about buying. He also said I needed to cancel all of my store credit cards and consolidate the rest of the debt. I explained all the reasons why I want to stay in my apartment. Starting with that I've never been happier in a home. But G cut through it all -- "Those are emotional reasons, Roxy," he said. "And you can't use emotions to pay bills." Or take classes. Or travel. But damn if home isn't where my head clears.

Back in my awesome apartment that I can't really afford I was mulling my options. A big part of me just wants to stay where I am. My mental health has made such a 180 for the better since I've moved in. But it's a big risk. A second option is to get a roommate. I'm not really sure that my floor plan would allow for that. And the third option is to move. I could move into another apartment, or I could go into a roomie situation.

I'm usually good about making a decision and sticking with it. But I keep waffling on this one. I know what I should do but I also know what makes me happy. Happy may not pay the bills but it makes me sane enough to earn them dolla bills. So that's something.