When I packed up all my belongings and booked a one-way ticket to New York two months ago, I didn’t know what was in store. There’s so much talk about how hard it is to make it in the city, how if you can make it there you can make it anywhere. The idea was promising—a huge city where I didn’t know anyone but my roommate, where there’s so much creative and personal freedom—but it was also terrifying. What is so hard about living in New York City? What, aside from cost of living, makes it so hard to live there? I was on my way to embrace it all and find out for myself.
Upon arriving to the Lower East Side on a chilly Tuesday afternoon in March, I still held feelings of excitement and nervousness. Here I am in my favorite city, carrying two heavy suitcases up a narrow stairwell on Grand Street in an apartment that’s being handed over to me until May. My roommate was on her way to her second job shortly after my arrival, leaving me to my own devices. After I unpack my clothes and shoes I’m a free woman. Nothing is impossible here. I walked to a taqueria and picked up a fish burrito, soggy and underwhelming: my first meal in the city. When I got home I lit a candle to get rid of the scent of staying in someone else’s room, took my first shower, and the rest was yet to come.
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By my last day in the city, a hot and humid early morning at the end of May, so much about myself had changed. I’d been rejected by several employers, walked hundreds of miles, and inhaled a lot of unpleasant smells in the East Broadway subway station. I’d made friends with business owners, FIT students, and Dominican ladies who hung out on street corners in wheelchairs. I said yes to everything. I lost my debit card God knows where, with only several hundred dollars in my bank account—the least amount of money I’ve had since quarantine in 2020. All of this to say, I went through the wringer in New York City. I had some great times and met new friends, but it would be a lie to say it was the best time of my life. I learned a lot of lessons, and lessons are usually never fun. Nonetheless, here I am back in Atlanta with a new state of mind, a new hustle, and new ideas.
One thing I’ve brought back with me is the feeling of curiosity. By forcing myself to be on the move every day for two months, I met some of the beauty and the brains behind local businesses. I wished I could have sat down with the business owners I met, asking them how they found the courage to fail and succeed over and over. I found the woman-owned stores and brands the most inspiring, such as Tumbao, a Latin American fashion showroom, Vacation Forever Tattoo, a queer Aussie owned tattoo studio, and blk top KOPE, a gender neutral street- and athleisurewear brand handmade in Brooklyn. I found the women who owned these brands and stores to be some of the most driven people I’d ever met. Starting a life in New York, aside from the business side of things, is one of the most difficult lifestyle changes a woman can make, so it was mind-boggling to see their grit and determination. It takes a certain level of passion, organization, and positivity to be able to stick things out to the point of success, all while remaining friendly, humble, and calm. I felt like I could’ve sat with them for hours talking about their life stories, hoping it would spark something within myself.
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New York City is difficult to fully understand unless you take it on as your home. There’s so much talk of how difficult it is to live there, but you can’t understand the totality of it through a week-long vacation. On top of all the taxes that get added onto your clothing and food purchases, there’s also such a large disparity of humanity. You walk past the same homeless people every day, torn between the idea of giving them a helping hand or pretending they don’t exist, meanwhile you can run into your favorite celebrity in public and they can do the same to you. You could spend the whole night partying and bagging free drinks from rich men then walk home and see someone sleeping on dog-piss concrete. Your friends could be okay with spending $50+ on one meal while you’re struggling to keep up with your bills. The psychological warfare is taxing, and there’s many ways people choose to deal with it. More often than not, people become cold, but they’re still fighting a guilty conscience. More than the monetary expense of New York, the psychological expense was heavier.
Nonetheless, there truly is no place like New York City in your twenties. I fell in and out of love, ate the best food I’d ever had, and spent time alone to the point of revival. I wish I could’ve spent more time living in the Lower East Side, but as a not-it girl with no steady income or impressive crafts, it was time to accept that it was right place wrong time. One day when I can write these posts for myself or someone else and get paid, New York will be the first place I think of landing. For now, though, it’s time to regroup and continue living the simple life. At least I hope it’s simple.
Ciao for now. Lots to come.
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Tumbao: @tumbao.world
Vacation Forever Tattoo: @vacationforever.tattoo
blk top KOPE: @blktopkope