Well New York, we have certainly had a go. Your winter may not have been comparable to the arctic tundra of the Midwest, but your springs (or lack thereof) may as well be sisters.
Rainy days and chilly winds have been all too common. In turn this city has been all too gray. However, lately we have gotten a little break from our umbrellas. The sun has forced its way out just enough to give us a little more pep in our step and a little more vibrance in our outfits.
Don’t get too excited. We are still New Yorkers, so when I say a little I mean a little.
Spring remains as evasive as a full time entry level editorial job, but color (at least in my wardrobe) is here to stay. More specifically pink is here to stay.
Despite pink being my favorite color, I do not own that many pink clothing items, but this Zara top has easily climbed to the top of my favorite shirts. I’ve worn it to work, parties, church, the list goes on. It’s comfortable, it’s professional, and it doesn’t completely wash me out when I haven’t seen the sun in weeks (a.k.a. NOW).
I love this top for those reasons, but mostly, I love this top for its slight fuchsia rebellion against the eternal gray of this city, the streets, the skyline. By wearing it, I almost feel like I am refusing to conform to an unspoken dress code. Perhaps I have seen more than one store window boasting pretty pink dresses or maybe a small shift in the weather inspired me to shake things up a little. Who would have guessed the easiest way to stand out in New York is to go outside in something other than black?
It’s almost May. So far, I have racked up 7 months in the concrete jungle, not including the months I spent interning. If I have learned anything since moving, it is that New York does not grow with you. You grow because of New York. Because you pay more for renting a closet sized room in Manhattan than you would for an entire home in other cities. Because you are constantly saying goodbye. Because here, you can be replaced.
Sure after a few months you walk with a little more confidence, you give tourists directions with a sweet smugness, and you pride yourself in knowing the people that work at the bodega downstairs. You gain your bearings. You build your life.
Though all of these things bring joy, none of these things equate with belonging. New York doesn’t take you in. New York makes you work before it decides to give you a shot.
Don’t get me wrong, I have attempted to look as natural as possible. I have eaten the brunch. I have worn the neutrals. I have taken the Instagrams. But when it was all said and done, I didn’t like matching blacks. I missed color.
Maybe this top is my way of refusing to commit to the patterns of a city that, despite my best efforts, refuses to commit to me.
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