Midtown Girl

Umbrellas opened in a mushroom-cloud effect.

It is amazing the sense of empowerment an umbrella can bring. As if you are protecting yourself from something truly life-threatening.

Standing under the overhang just far enough to release my almighty protector, I saw homeless people across the street laying on a muraled bench. Face-up, soaking in every ounce of rain that fell from the sky. It was if there was something magical about the rain, some devine revelation falling from the sky.

Umbrellas popped like popcorn on the way to work. Up and then back down like kernles do as the fluffy white substance forces it's way out. This is first time I witnessed a New Yorker acknowledge a human soul on the streets, by a simple raising of their arm.

I find it fascinating to watch the faces of people under each umbrella. I find it my obligation to decipher just what it is they are trying to protect. There are those protecting their clothes, their bag, their shoes. Then there are those protecting each other, huddled together as if to face the world as a united force. Those who are protecting their ego, walking through the streets without raising an umbrella for a single person, because their protection and safe-cover is all that really matters. Then there are those protecting their souls, white-knuckles clutching the stem as if they fear moisture melting their facade.

It seems finding my place as an intern puddle in the fashion industry, something to walk on, something to find a conceivable annoyance has finally let me feel the rain. The week has stripped me of an umbrella and forced me to feel the realness in a rain drop as it makes contact with my skin. It is tactile sensations, after all efforts to avoid them that bring you back down to reality.

Much to my dismay, I have realized fashion is not saving the world. It is protecting our skin, keeping us from feeling anything real. The euphoria of cashmere agaisnt your chest. The coolness of silk as it passes under your fingers. The feeling of defiance an open-back blouse can bring you. All beautiful illusions.

What is real is a rain drop on your forehead, a dimple-inducing smile, and sustainable passion when people try to break you down. That is real.

oh, sunny days in Little Italy.

And miniture cupcakes in SoHo