I didn’t really blog about my personal experiences when I first moved to New York, so I feel inclined to let you in on some of my random adventures from when I first moved here.  So here you go.  All names have been changed to protect my friends.  Disclaimers: no cats were harmed and I do not support the use of drugs.  Ok let’s begin.

Allow me to set the scene for you.  It is Spring time in the city and I have two weeks left in my first semester at FIT.  My roommate who is also my line sister who also abandoned me in Penn Station at 1 am a few weeks prior and I needed a break from each other.  I may or may not go into detail about this in another post.  We’ll see.  Anyway.  Enter stage left an old friend from Georgia Southern who has a really cute place in Harlem.  She tells me that she is going home to Atlanta for a few weeks and offers to let me crash at her place while she’s away.  (Dionn if you are reading this I will love you forever for this kind act of generosity, and I swear I will pay you back somehow one day soon.)  My time in New York was winding down as I was heading home to Atlanta for the summer and I wanted to have one last fun night in New York before I left.  Be careful what you ask for guys, because this night got really weird really quick.

I have a dear friend here who decided to indulge me in my quest for a last fling in New York.  We will call her Chrissy.  Chrissy and I started the day by going to the Everyday People brunch/day party.  If you are ever in New York in the spring and/or summer then you should definitely attend this party.  There are models, and B list celebrities as far as the eye can see.  The music is amazing and people dance so hard that the floor literally feels like it’s going to cave in.  Of course I am too fearful to take part in that part of the turn up.  I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad way for your family and friends to find out you died.  Like oh yeah Jessica she died while drunk and twerking on a dance floor that fell in, in New York.  Wait, now that I’m reading it, it does seem kinda cool.  Anyway though Chrissy was talking to this really attractive security guard while I stood in the midst of some fashion hipster kids blowing clove cigarette smoke in my face.  Yeah I’m totally that friend that stands by awkwardly while her friends get hit on by hot guys.  I have yet to discover a way to not look like an abandoned puppy every time this happens.  This is me trying to be cool.

Just to show you that God loves me, Chrissy’s phone completely blacked out on her as she was getting the guy’s number.  We decided it was time to make an exit and get dinner, and then head to the 24 hour Apple store to get her phone reset.  Note: if you are ever in New York and your phone dies or does that weird thing where it just cuts off for no reason, there is a 24 hour Apple store on Madison Avenue.  It’s beautiful.  You should just go there anyway.

Whilst at the fancy 24 hour Apple store Chrissy gets a call from a friend inviting us to hang out with him and his homegirls in Chinatown.  We will call this friend Bentley.  We hop on the train and head over to the address he gave us.  Now let me just say this.  Chinatown can be a really cool place in the right parts in the light of day.  However, if you show up there at a random hour of the night it looks like a stereotypical scene from New York in the 80’s.  Have you ever seen Big Trouble in Little China? No?  Well you don’t know bad movies.   It looks like you are going to discover a body like they do within the first 30 seconds of Law and Order SVU.  It’s creepy.

We arrive at this address and the girl’s apartment is above a massage parlor.  This should have been our first clue that this night was gonna be…questionable.  Bentley shoots Chrissy a text saying: hey there are drugs up here don’t be alarmed.  We just assume that he’s talking about weed or maybe pain killers.  No.  No he wasn’t.  We walk up the most steep set of iron stairs I’ve ever seen in my life to this tiny apartment.  We walk past a room where there is a hairless cat.  If you do not know by now, I despise cats.  They give me the creeps, but hairless cats freak me out on another level.  They look like snakes with legs or something.  Once in the room of Bentley’s friend we see five chicks doing a comical amount of cocaine.  Have you ever seen Scarface?  At the end of the movie when he’s sitting at his desk and there is a mound of cocaine there?

Yeah that.  I have never seen people do cocaine in era life, but I didn’t want to overreact and freak them out so I played it cool.  Surprisingly the girl offered us some, which I though then and still think now was extremely generous of her.  She didn’t even know us, but was going to allow us to partake in her very expensive drug habit.  How kind?  Being the southern bells that we are we very politely declined and shot each other a glance that said: girl where the hell are we?  Someone suggested that we all go to a techno club up the block and I said yes before they could complete the statement.  So we gather our things and head out past the creepy hairless cat who shot me a glance that said: oh don’t worry shit is about to get way more strange.

We arrive at the techno club to meet up with their friends who are the children of some very affluent…Republicans.  We will call them Republicans.  They get bottle service, but order only vodka.  I do not ever drink vodka.  I imagine that if satan has tears they are made of vodka.  I hate it that much.  Chrissy and I are kind of standing back taking in the whole scene when suddenly we see the group we came in with put Molly’s in their drinks.  Certain that this was going to lead to a police investigation involving a drug overdose, I decide I should probably head back to Harlem.  At this point it is about 3 am and the characters on the subway at this hour are next level.  During this train ride I witnessed a cat fight between three transexuals, and was propositioned by a small 4’11 man to “make some money.”  Don’t tap out yet.  Things got progressively more weird.

I finally come up out of the subway on the wrong side of Harlem.  Again, my sense of direction is pure trash.  Not only am I on the wrong side of Harlem but it is raining profusely.  Not that cute rain at the end of a chick flick where the lead actress discovers she loves her best friend.  It was raining like God was trying to pressure wash the streets of Harlem.

Behind me there is a Popeyes. To this day I do not know if this was a 24 hour Popeyes or if it had just opened or if it was closing.  What I do know is that it was 4 in the morning and this Popeyes had a security guard.  If you are ever in doubt about the safety of a neighborhood, you can pretty much bet that if there is a security guard at a fast food restaurant it ain’t good. So I ask the security guard how to get to 131st Street.  Just then a toothless man comes and offers to pay for a cab for me.  Again I am a gentle southern rose so I politely declined.  This man cursed me out so bad, because he was offended that I would not take his money, and went on a rant about how if he were white I would’ve taken it.  Sir if you are out there and reading this I want you to know that it was not because you were black.  I am black.  I did not accept your crumpled up dollar bills because you were toothless and angry.

I took off in a smooth sprint/jog towards 131st Street and by the glory of God saw a yellow cab stopped in front of a Catholic church.  It was then that I had that recurring thought that my life is being secretly recorded because like no way.  My saving grace actually came in the form of a yellow cab in front of a church.  Look at God!  Won’t He do it?!  So anyway I got in the cab and headed to my temporary home in Harlem and I thanked God for sobriety and safety and slept until 2 pm the next day.  And that is the story of Chinatown and a hairless cat.

Ok ok I don’t want you guys to think this is a “whoa is me my life in New York is so tragic and hard” ranting and crying place.  My blog serves two purposes.  One is to post the fashion and style that I like and talk about it.  The second is to show people that life in New York is not what Carrie Bradshaw made us think it was.  Hence, the name.  You get it now, right?  I heard someone sum the New York experience up in this phrase: New York is like being in an abusive relationship with a really cool guy.  Obligatory disclaimer: I do not support domestic violence.  It’s just a metaphor so relax.  Or is it a simile?  Either way relax.  I hope to inspire another person to go after their dreams, but I want them to know that it will not be easy.  However, for every struggle, your success will be ten times greater.  If it helps you to read about my awkward weird obstacles to get you to go for what you want, then hey I’ll put myself out there to push you.  I can take the judgement…sometimes…in the privacy of my home I may feel a way though.

My life much like everyone else’s is a series of ups and downs.  No matter how bad things may get, they are only temporary and I will literally always end up better on the other side of things.  I’m ok.  I swear.  I was only able to write about the bad times because of my assurance that they won’t last.

So here are a few things that make New York amazing.

1. Culture.  There is culture literally everywhere here.  From graffiti to street artists to the guy that posts up in the West 4th Street train station with a sign that reads: Give a Dollar Name a Subject Get a Poem.  Street musicians and performers are a constant inspiration to me.  They are not waiting for a grand stage or a record deal.  They play their instruments and the perform anywhere they can just to be heard or seen, and they make their own audience.  This gets weird when the person is horribly untalented though.
2. Food.  There are an unusual number of great restaurants here.  I assume this is because there is so much competition and if your food sucks you won’t survive.
3. Free Shit.  This city is freaking expensive and everyone knows it.  I imagine that’s why you can get into the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Brooklyn Museum by paying literally whatever you want to.  There are lots of cheap hang out spots everywhere in the city and Groupon is your friend no matter where you are.  My baby sis and I speculate that rent is so high to compensate for the fact that there is so much free and cheap shit here.
4. You can be anything you want to be here.  If you have always wanted to be Batman then you can find a group of 20 other people that want to be the rest of the Super Friends and that can legit be your life.
5. You will always be reminded that your life is not that bad.  You think you’re having a bad day because you forgot to put on rain boots and submerged your foot into 3 inches of dirty slush.  That is until you see the woman sitting in front of Starbucks with her 3 year old daughter begging for change.
6. People will always be impressed with you.  It is easy to thrive in Atlanta where the air is clean, life is cheap, and you can have literally no credit or assets yet still manage to lease a Bentley.  Because everyone knows that New York is a tough city, expectations for you to succeed are pretty low.  They will be impressed with anything you do.  People are always like “what you take the subway all by yourself all the way to Brooklyn everyday?”  Umm yeah.
7. The summers are worth the winters.  There is always a festival, day party, or cultural event going on.  You will find yourself just strolling through the city because the weather is nice.  That or you drank too much at a day party.
8. Celebrities come here because everyone here is a celebrity in their own mind.  Everyone is doing something really cool and amazing and they don’t have time to gawk at Beyonce eating.  Wait, that’s a lie.  Everyone has time to stop and gawk at Beyonce eating.  But you get it.
9. Opportunities are endless.  As long as you’re willing to put yourself out there you will stumble upon a great opportunity.  I met my editor at a shopping event.  Not knowing her influence, we chatted for a while.  She asked me what I wanted to do and let me know that she would reach out if she heard anything.  And whadda ya know she actually did.
10. You will find your spirit animal here.  I have always felt like I didn’t belong.  Although my friends from home are the shiz and I love them immensely, they rarely agree with me or understand where I’m coming from.  People here just get it.  No one understands the shade of just missing your train like a new New Yorker.  I mean it is literally one of the worst feelings in life to have those doors close right in your face.  It’s like seeing your crush kiss your best friend.  That sinking feeling in your gut.  I’m being dramatic (big surprise there) but it blows.

I, like many young black girls was raised by a single mother and a multitude of other women that were very influential in my upbringing.  My mom is an amazing woman.  Everyone thinks their mom is, but mine is truly remarkable, and I didn’t realize this until I got older.  Because of who she is, there were always people willing to help her with my brother and I.  Not that she was famous or extraordinarily wealthy, but because she is the perfect blend of sweet and sour.  She is the classiest most beautiful woman in the world to me, but she will also read you for filth if you cross her or someone she loves.  Still as an adult I love watching my mom get dressed, because style is so effortless for her.  I would watch her come in tired and sweaty from working her blue collar job at Delta, and then transform into this immaculate well dressed woman that looks like she has a rich husband and a colonial in Buckhead.  I learned the power of deception that comes from being well dressed from my mommy. Now that I have sang the praises of my mom, let me tell you about one of the other less fabulous but highly influential women in my life.

There is a woman named Cookie.  No that is not her real name, but that is what I have called her since the day I was able to speak.  She helped my mother raise my brother and I.  The irony that her name is Cookie and people call my brother Biscuit, and me Muffin in completely unrelated ways is how I know that God has a sense of humor.  Cookie is very ummm… let’s say eccentric.  We grew up doing a shit ton of yard work.  Not cute yard work, but like real landscaping.  Until I was about 7 or 8 I thought this is what all kids do in their spare time.  Her very many idiosyncrasies majorly rubbed off on me and are quite possibly why I am such a weirdo to this day.  Cookie made me into who I am in the strangest way possible.  Example: when we would come in from school she would ask us how many I’s are in Mississippi or would make us say the alphabet backwards.  Things like this kept me on my toes at all times because I dare not get an answer wrong.

Cookie has a daughter named Sonya.  Sonya played a huge role in my life as well.  My brother is the sweetest person in the entire world and people have always been drawn to him because of that.  Hence, I was ignored a great deal as a kid.  Sonya, however took to me and I took to her.  Even still, I spent a lot of time alone and developed a huge imagination and this is where I began to write.  I would go to Sonya’s house and on her laptop (laptops were not common in the 90’s at all) I would write lots of short stories.  I looked forward to the days I got to hang out with my cool aunt Sonya, because we were always doing something fun and new and she indulged me in my make believe conversations about characters I had made up in my head.  I know that sounds weird but roll with it, I swear I have a point here.  One day when Sonya was in grad school for some reason she took me to class with her.  I was maybe 6.  I listened intently to what was being discussed and being the precocious weirdly confident kid that I was I raised my hand to ask a question.  Imagine this tiny little brown girl impeccably dressed because I am my mother’s child asking a question in a graduate level class.  I haven’t a clue what that question was, but everyone was so impressed by the way I asked it that they formed around me and started to ask me questions.  There was a man with an accent (don’t ask me what kind. This was years ago and I’m old now).  I said to him “I don’t wan to offend you but I know that you are a foreigner of some kind and I have a question about what you asked.”  It was on this day that I learned I have a real voice and I love to talk to people.

When I was about 8 or 9 it was someone’s bright idea to sign me up for the Jr. Atlanta Falcons cheerleading squad.  We would perform at all the home games and do random community service things.  For some reason we were always performing at Shepard Spinal Recovery center.  How shitty it must have been for those people to be forced to watch a bunch of privileged kids doing dances to hits from the 80’s.   At the end of our trash ass performance in this small room there was a Q and A session.  Why you ask?  I have no idea.  Let me get to my Lunchable and go home to do my yard work I thought.  Well one day I didn’t get up to answer a question that was posed to the group.  When I got to Cookie’s house afterward she chewed me out.  “Whenever someone asks for someone to speak, you should always be the first to go up.  You have a voice.  Use it.”  It was on this day that I developed a fear of NOT public speaking.

Fast forward to last night’s panel on diversity in fashion media.  They opened the floor for Q&A, and for some reason put the microphone smack dab in the middle of the aisle.  I imagine this was to discourage  too many people from going up at once.  Remembering my training from good old Cookie’s boot camp I went up and confidently asked: what is our responsibility as black media to hold mainstream media accountable for the appropriation of black culture?  Is that something we should still be concerned about given that hip hop culture has now become a part of pop culture, or should we celebrate that it is being accepted mainstream?  To my surprise the audience applauded me for posing this question.  People came up to me afterwards to thank me for asking it.  I am very weird and although I love being social and talking to people, I get awkward very easily when complimented.

I said all of this to say that nothing in life happens by mistake.  We are created to be who we are.  Every person that touches our lives is forming us in some way be it big or small.  If my father had never left my mother I would never have gone to Cookie’s house.  If I had not been a funny looking, marginalized but very fashionable kid, Sonya may have never taken to me and exposed me to the things that lead me to pursuing my passion in life.  Sometimes the situations that seem the most bleak are the ones leading right to the plan God has for our lives.  Don’t fight against your struggles.  Lean in to the curve and brace yourself for what you are being prepared for.  It’s coming.  Trust me.

My amazingly wonderful editor from StyleBlazer invited me to a panel discussion on diversity in media tonight at the New York Institute of Technology.  Wait.  Let me back up.  It was a whopping 1 degrees in New York tonight, 1.

The press reception began at 7 and the panel began at 8.  My editor and I agreed we would meet up at around 7:30.  Perf!  Well I have a piss poor sense of direction, which is a really bad trait to have in New York.  I got off the train at what I thought was the correct stop and realized that I was in Astoria, Queens.  The actual location is in Manhattan.  Here’s a map to show you just how wrong that is given that I live in Brooklyn.

Imagine my surprise when my GPS lead me straight to a diner.  I usually walk everywhere, because cab fare really adds up but it was just entirely too cold for life so I hopped in a cab and made it to the venue just in time for the panel intros.

The panel was amazing and I posed a question that literally got a round of applause from the audience.  I am very awkward and weird so I blushed immensely as the panel answered me.  (I will cover this in the next post).  Afterward my editor and I decided we need to catch up so I walked with her to the Whole Foods in Columbus Circle.  Let me just say this.  I freaking love Whole Foods, but I only go to the one in Union Square.  What I realized today is that any Whole Foods outside of your regular Whole Foods is like walking into Narnia or that weird portal that takes you to Hogwarts.  You don’t know where anything is and you look like an idiot holding your buffet food searching for the registers.  And the lines.  Why do we willingly wait in lines like refugees waiting for rations to pay for overpriced food?  Because Whole Foods is the shit that’s why.

Anyway though on to my point.  My editor is this amazing little curvy brownie (my pet name for brown skinned girls like me) that’s like a mentor in this fashion game.  (Imagine I said that with the voice of a young drug dealer who’s trying to get put on).  So we chat about lots of things.  On our quest to pay for her food she asked me with such sincerity, “why are you still single?”  That question haunts me like a pair of shoes I didn’t buy at a designer sample sale.  I have asked myself that question many times, and I finally know why.

I am brand loyal to a very specific type of ass hole guy.  If you are a kind of mean drinker that’s emotionally unavailable with an amazing sense of humor, a great smile, and built like a wide receiver, well hey I’m down.  Until I start liking guys that are actually good for me I will always be single.  This sucks for a few reasons.

1. Of my best friends I am the only one that’s single and I stick out like a sore thumb.  Two are engaged, and one will be very soon we are all sure.
2. The guy I have gone back and forth with for like three years revealed to me that he now has a girlfriend*  I always knew he wasn’t the one, but I took comfort in knowing that he would always be there as a safety to have someone to talk to.  When things failed to work out with others, I took a weird comfort in knowing I didn’t mind putting up with his shit in small doses so I could always go back to him.  I knew we would both get in relationships eventually and leave the other behind but I didn’t think I would be the one to get left behind.  I’m a better person than he is for crying out loud.  How dare the universe allow him to find love before me?!
3. I’m 27.  Enough said.

*I am freakishly perceptive.  I pick up on everything even via text, so I know when something is afoot.  He only revealed this to me after I asked because I can peep tea like no other.

So there you have it.  I am not crazy.  I don’t have kids or incurable diseases.  There’s nothing really wrong with me other than the fact that I choose to fall for guys that are truly terribly wrong for me.  That’s really it.

There are a few cliche statements that apply here:

1. Everything happens for a reason.  There are no mistakes in life.
2. It’s always darkest before the dawn.
3. Sometimes the worse things in life end up being the best things in life.

So with all of that being said there are some very valuable lessons to be learned from this entire experience.

1. When you interview for a company, you should be interviewing them as well to see if you are a good fit for their company culture.
2. Don’t trust women with bad hair or bad shoes.  They clearly don’t care about themselves and they definitely don’t care about you.
3. Keep a paper trail, and over communicate.  Cover your own ass at all costs.  Make sure you can prove your efforts at your job, and any feedback you receive good or bad.
4. Come in early and stay late.
5. Don’t ever kiki at work.  No matter what a co worker tells you, anything you say/ask can and will be used against you in an effort to save their own ass.
6. If you want to work in fashion try your hand at a bunch of things until you find your niche.  Many success stories in fashion are from people who started in one area and landed in a completely different one.
7. Keep multiple streams of income.  You always need back up money.  Mine is freelance writing.
8. Keep the contact information for a temp service on deck.  If you ever fall on hard times they will find work for you until you get something permanent.
9. Sometimes it’s better to bow out gracefully than to be kicked out on your ass.
10. Don’t panic (Amber Rose voice).  You will be fine.  There will be times when you feel that life is constantly kicking you in the balls and you don’t know why.  But trust you will be ok, and you will come out stronger.

So begins another day of me trying desperately to save myself and my job.

Photo: Harper’s Bazaar

I came in an hour early, as I had been doing for the past month and tried to prep for the day.  As soon as I logged in to my Outlook, my boss had sent me a series of emails “following up” on projects I had completed weeks ago, and asking me to complete others.  It suddenly dawned on me that I was being set up for failure, and she was building a case against me so that she could fire me,which is pretty much what she wanted to do at my 30 day review.  I gathered my things, sent her an email saying that I wasn’t feeling well, got the number for HR, and headed home.

Photo: Harper’s Bazaar

I talked to HR and pretty much got a “well girl what do you want me to do about it?” response.  I took another sick day to really decide what my next move should be.  After much prayer, I decided that I would rather resign than be fired from anywhere.  The next morning I sent in my resignation.

Photo: Harper’s Bazaar

My biggest fear wasn’t how I would eat or pay my rent, but how I would be disappointing my friends and family.  This was supposed to be THE job that would propel my fashion career forward, help me build my finances, and relinquish them of their financial responsibility for me.  How can I not just tough this out?  Am I really that weak?  Ultimately I decided that I have to do what is best for me and the love and support of my friends and family will always be there.  I walked away from that job knowing that I gave it my absolute best and that it just wasn’t good enough for them.  So there you have it.  I’m a quitter and I have no shame about that.

After a weekend spent with friends trying to reassure myself that I’m not a complete idiot and that I can in fact learn my job and be good at it, Monday rolled around.  I woke up that morning, read some affirmations and scriptures on being encouraged and said a prayer.  (I wake up every morning, and have a long chat with God as I’m getting dressed.)  I put on one of my absolute favorite black dresses, did my hair and makeup and bundled up to weather the cold both figuratively and literally.

As soon as I stepped into the building I felt an air of doom loom over me.  I sent my manager an email outlining all of her concerns and how we could fix them.  She responded by giving me a project that I definitely needed help completing.  My “training mentor” reluctantly answered a few of my questions.  Side note: don’t trust a girl that doesn’t do her hair.  I will spare you the details, but this turned out to be one of the worse days of my life for a few reasons.  Or maybe I’m not sparing the details, whatever.

1. No one would actually answer my questions the whole day.
2. I had a cross functional team meeting that I had no idea how to prepare for.  They ended up having said meeting without me unbeknownst to me.
3. I had a mild panic attack and sat in the bathroom for like 15 minutes trying to calm myself down.
4. I couldn’t eat, which is really saying something because I love to eat.
5. At the end of the day my manager called me in to her office and recited every question I had asked every person in the office that entire day.  They apparently had a secret meeting where they told her how much I sucked.  I was told that my questions were inappropriate for someone in their fifth week on the job.
6. The guy I thought I was talking to got completely ghost on me and hadn’t returned a single text or phone call the entire weekend and this continued for a week.  Why can’t guys just tell you when they’ve met a girl over the weekend with better edges and bigger booty?  Why?
7. My manager gave me four projects to do by the end of the week, but there was no way I could do them without any help.  And clearly no one in the department is willing to help me especially without snitching on me.

I went home that night a complete and total wreck.  Did I mention that the door to my place was frozen shut and I had to wait 30 minutes for my roommate to come back and let me in?  It was cold to say the very least.

I finally got in the house, showered, couldn’t eat, and went to bed with still no word from old dude.

Just as an aside I feel I should let you know that I truly despise cats, but this gif was fitting so there it is.  I do not have a cat, nor will I ever.  They give me the creeps and I refuse to fulfill certain stereotypes about single women and cats.

So things got off to a very rocky start at the new job as I mentioned before.  I was pretty much told that I wasn’t doing a good job, and was not meeting the standards and expectations of the position after two weeks.  Yes, after two weeks I was told that I don’t fully understand my job.  To which I say, well who does?  With this information, I decided ok maybe I should work harder to show my commitment and dedication to the company.  I started taking home my notes to study at night and on the weekends.  I came in at least an hour early to look over things and get a head start on the day.  After a few weeks I felt confident that I was doing better.  Things were making sense and coming together well.  So imagine my surprise when my boss told me once again during my 30 day review that I am still not up to par.

She looked at me with a smile and kindly told me that I am just not a good fit for the position (among other things).  At the end of her ripping me a new one she said: take the weekend to decide if you want to come back here.  Never have I been talked to so condescendingly in my life.  I handled her criticism with as much poise and humility as I could.  My stilettos clicked louder than I’ve ever heard them click before on the floor as I left her office and headed to my desk to gather my things.  I could feel everyone staring at me as I’m sure they knew what had taken place.  I barely made it over the threshold of the building before I burst into tears on my phone to my best friend.  I haven’t cried like that in years.  Anger, embarrassment, feelings of failure, and inadequacy overwhelmed me.  I lost all composure, and let out an audible cry that came out so strong that I started to shake as I told her what happened.  The walk from 11th to 7th Avenue has never felt so long.  The cold breeze from the Hudson dried my tears almost as fast as they fell down my cheeks and made streaks in my makeup.

Photo: E!

I snapped the closure to my fur lined hood in hopes that it would hide my struggle from the people walking by.  Everything seemed to move in slow motion, which is odd for a city known for its fast pace.  Is this real?  Is this really happening to me?  My bestie in her usual fashion asked me a series of questions I was not prepared to answer.  Among them was if I had considered moving back home to Atlanta.  That question snapped me out of my sadness and somewhere between 7th and 8th Avenue I went into survival mode.  I text my most resourceful friend here, Nikki.  I gave her the tea on what took place with my manager, and true to form she text and emailed me a bunch of contacts to reach out to.  I started going through my mental rolodex of who I could contact.  How can I make the money I have last?  How much do I have for rent?  By when do I need to have something else secured to sustain me in New York?

I got on the Q train to head home and in the most dramatic fashion I blasted some Drake through my earphones, and I got motivated.  I stopped at my favorite Jamaican spot in Newkirk Plaza on the way, and made a mental game plan while I waited in line.  The line is always jumping there so I had a good minute to figure things out.  I called other friends that work in corporate America and asked for advice.  Their response was unanimous: don’t quit.  I spent the weekend with friends trying to psych myself up to go back in to work on Monday.

Nothing has been a greater thief of joy in my life than insecurity.  It is a silent killer that sneaks up in the depths of your consciousness and slowly but surely steals away your happiness, your self worth, and your confidence.  It is like a cancer that eats away at the things that make you feel whole, and as those things lose their ability to give you peace, a domino effect starts and you quietly lose your shit.  Not only your insecurity, but the people around you’s insecurity can rob you of joy as well.  It’s a dangerous disease, but it can be cured.

I started week two at my new job on Monday.  The initial thrill of being gainfully employed with medical benefits, PTO, 401K, and salary wore off very quickly as I realized “oh shit this is real.”  Sitting in meetings and trainings all day learning what my new responsibilities will be, and how impactful my role is to the company sent me in a mental panic.

On my list of monthly declarations I said that I wanted a job that would challenge me in addition to being professionally and personally beneficial.  We must be careful what we ask for, because I certainly got it with this new position.  In addition to learning the technology and software used to do my job, I also have to learn the strategy and methodology behind how we make our decisions.  These decisions are incredibly impactful on the overall business.  I suppose my assigned mentor could sense my apprehension since she pulled me to the side to have a “touch base” meeting.  She shared that she could sense that I was feeling overwhelmed and urged me to be more confident in my new role.

I thought “damn is it really that obvious?”  My attempts to reassure her that I’m fine fell on deaf ears, and I left work that evening in very deep thought.  “How could she have sensed my doubts that I can do this job?  She just met me.  How is it that obvious?” I asked myself on the frigid walk to the train, while the disrespectful ass wind blew my fur lined hood smooth off my head.  I didn’t even put my earphones in, because I didn’t want to be distracted by anything but my thoughts.  I realized how much my self doubt and insecurity over the course of my life have taken things away from me.  In my 27 years I have accomplished some great things.  I’m no wunderkind, but I have done ok for myself.  And even in knowing this I still get too deep into my own head sometimes and the doubt sinks in.  Just to add insult to injury that same week a very close friend of mine said to me: “you have to be more confident in yourself.  Imagine how far along you would be if you just stopped thinking so small.”  Okay, God is clearly trying to tell me something here this week.

I said all of this to say that I am determined to allow myself to be great.  I no longer want to stop myself from doing things that I know I am capable of doing.  We have to be fearless and strong in the pursuit of our goals.  You cannot be timid about telling the universe what you want and that you are going to go get it.  Say that shit and believe it wholeheartedly. You have to get out of your own way, and even if you stumble, play it off and keep it moving.  This isn’t to say that everything will go your way if you believe in yourself.  Rather, it is to say that just because you may fail doesn’t mean you’re not still capable.  Failure and mistakes build character, they make you more human so don’t dwell on those times.  Learn from them and with a smile and a strong desire to be better, move on.  Keep telling yourself: I can do this and don’t allow insecurity to sneak in and remind you of that one time you messed up.  Rid yourself of the things that make you doubt you and be on your best Beyonce (or whomever).

The view from Barnes and Noble in Union Square

Read more.  I looked at the words I had written a few days prior on my list of things to do for the year as I walked around Barnes and Noble in Union Square.  I love that place.  I was killing time waiting for my baby sister to arrive for us to have a catch up session over dinner.  She was late as usual.  I finally gave up searching on my own and asked where I could find Diane Von Furstenburg’s autobiography The Woman I Wanted to Be.  Now any fashion girl worth her soul has an intense admiration for DVF.  Even if you don’t like her design aesthetic you have to look at this woman in awe for what she has accomplished in the industry.  In fact I venture to say that I don’t trust a girl in fashion that doesn’t love and/or respect Diane Von Furstenberg, creator of the wrap dress.

DVF with Wale for Harper’s Bazaar

I dove into DVF’s book on the train ride home to Brooklyn, following an intense conversation turned debate with baby sis about dating.  I fell under DVF’s spell even more, because I found so many parallels between her life and mine.  I dare not lead you to believe that I am a wealthy jet setting fashion designer with a who’s who list of industry friends, but I saw myself in much of what she wrote.  In lieu of giving you an essay on that I will let you in on what stood out to me most: her relationship with her mother and her life long pursuit of becoming the woman she wants to be.

Diane’s mother was an actual Holocaust survivor, and she had a determination to live and to see the best in life no matter the circumstance.  If her mother could do that in the face of such terror, then how can we not overcome the challenges we face?  Reading Diane’s account of how her mother was somewhat distant towards her, but that she came to understand the extent of her love after her mom passed made me so thankful that I see the value of my mother now while I still have her.  For years I thought my mother didn’t care as much about me as she did my brother, because she rarely came to my defense as a child.  I was never really coddled, even at times when I genuinely needed to be. I grew resentful of my mom for this during my teenage years.  I came to realize years later that my mother was teaching me strength and self sufficiency.  I am now appreciative of those times and my mom and I have the best relationship I could ever ask for.  I am strong because of her strength.  I am courageous because of the courage she taught me to have.  I know how to love because of the way my mom loves me, unconditionally.

No sentence resonated with me more than when I read: I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, but I knew the woman I wanted to become.  That sentenced summed up what my life has been since graduating from college the first time in 2009.  My friends were all in professional programs, and therefore had a clear understanding of what their career path would be following college.  I on the other hand had no idea.  I just knew the kind of life I wanted, and the kind of woman I wanted to be.  Even as a little girl I knew that I wanted to be very glamorous and fashionable, and that I wanted a fun and exciting life filled with interesting people and great adventures.  At one point I wanted to be a ninja spy.  I kid you not I literally wanted to be a ninja spy like James Bond meets Foxy Brown.  It seemed like a cool life until I realized spies have to kill people, so I gave up on that dream.  Taking an inventory of my life right now, I see how blessed I am that I am well on the way to becoming the woman I want to be.  I never imagined that I would be living in New York with a resume that includes three luxury fashion houses and a radio show.  I stumbled my way here all the while knowing the woman I wanted to be.  In moving to New York I rediscovered my love of writing and developed a more intimate relationship with the fashion industry.  I am genuinely thrilled about my future.  I have a slight idea of what lies ahead but I know for sure the woman I want to become and I am getting closer to her everyday.

Photo: Newsweek

You may not know what you want to do with your life right now at this moment, and that’s ok.  I encourage you to discover the woman you want to become, and I’m sure you’ll find exactly what you should be doing along the way.  You don’t need all the answers.  Life is no fun that way.  The fun in life comes from the surprises, the things you didn’t plan, or even the failed plans.  You will look back on those moments fondly.  Enjoy your journey.  Every high and every low.  They are weaving an amazing story for you.

I am obsessed with Diane Von Furstenburg’s book, and I recommend reading it.  Her spirit comes through so clearly in the words.  Her honesty about her triumphs and her shortcomings make her so much more human.  I truly hope to run into her on the street one day just to say thank you.