They almost cancelled it, then pushed the Atlantic Antic to today instead — and all of Brooklyn showed up like it owed us money. Four blocks of food stalls, a brass band on every corner, and me three bodies deep in the crowd with a plate I'm guarding with my life. Tell me what I'm eating next.
Sunday dilemma: Rangers at MSG or Smashing Pumpkins at Barclays, and only getting to pick one feels like a crime. Loudest vintage tee I own, bare legs, and a whole ride out to Brooklyn ahead of me — say I chose right.
Beat everyone to the Creole Food Festival at Pier 3 and the stalls are still setting up around me. I came hungry, slightly overdressed, and with a full game plan for the jambalaya line. Come find me by the water?
Nobody else on the courts yet and I'm not sharing until my arm gives out. Skirt's on, racket's ready, and the city's still rubbing its eyes. Want to be my doubles partner?
Escaped to the flower district this afternoon and walked out with more dahlias than any one vase can handle. The florist said I have expensive taste — I told him it's not the only expensive thing about me. Come help me arrange them?
Playoff basketball at Barclays and yes, I committed to the jersey-and-skirt situation way too hard for someone whose actual sport is tennis. Arenas this full do something to me. Find me behind the Liberty bench — I'll be the loud one.
Matinee at Lincoln Center and I dressed like the film cares who's watching. Dark theaters full of strangers do something to me. Tell me you'd take the seat beside me.
Three days of walking the Armory Show in heels and my feet are still filing formal complaints. Monday morning means coffee, bare legs, and finally sorting through everything I dragged home. Tell me which wall gets the first print.
The Brooklyn Book Festival emptied my wallet yesterday and now the haul is keeping me up — this chapter is not helping. Tell me you'd make me put the book down.
Sleep never stood a chance after that show, so I'm barefoot in my kitchen in the dress I wore to the festival, stirring up something warm before the Atlantic Antic takes over Brooklyn. Come be my taste tester.