Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Manhattan anymore

A weekend spent island hopping.

As I’ve been invited to more and more events in Bushwick, Bed-Stuy, and Ridgewood, I’m debating on getting Global Entry.

On Friday night, I made my inaugural voyage to Ridgewood. I told someone I had never been to Ridgewood earlier in the week when explaining my weekend plans, and they were very surprised. I took this as a big compliment, assuming I came across as the type of person who frequented Rolo’s or il Gigante or some chic underground wine bar. In summary—assuming I came across as really cool.

When my coworkers and I emerged from the L after a mere 20-30 minute ride (post dinner at Bernie’s might I add), I felt very far from home. It’s at this point that if you don’t live in New York, this might sound like gibberish to you. I will attach a map explaining where I live, where I work, where I usually go out, and where I went. I have also linked the restaurants above to paint the picture. In the spirit of internet safety, I made these circles very large and not approximate. The pink circle, aka my home, has like, 200,000 people within it. Good luck finding me, stalkers.

It was an overcast evening. The sky had a slight orange tint to it from the sunset trying to peek through from behind, and it was the type of temperature that felt like nothing at all. In my post-martini haze, I was skipping down streets never before seen, visiting a beautiful apartment of a dear friend that had private outdoor space, stainless steel appliances, and a quiet street. When she greeted us at the door, it was like Glinda coming down on her bubble.

Friday evening at Bernie's. We waited a half-hour (flex).

My evening in Ridgewood was fantastic, and I would definitely return. Perhaps the people made the place, alas, I’m ready to discover more uncharted territory in this city I’ve called home for three years now. After the party, we got a night cap in Bushwick at Palmetto’s, which was also great. I got an $18 Uber home which basically felt free, and woke up not hungover. Win-win.

I have traversed to Bushwick an amount I can count on a single hand. Most recently a month ago for the first time in two years. The first time I went, I sat in the third row of an Uber that felt like riding in the bottom of a plane, and counted every 1 of the 45 minutes that it took to arrive to our destination. I proclaimed that I would never return, and stuck to that until May 2025. I retract the statement previously made, however I will avoid at all costs succumbing to another cliche. Living in the Lower East Side is enough.

Me, 2023-2025.

I frequent Bed-Stuy because some of my best friends from school live there. The most recent time I went, Saturday night, was the smoothest journey I’ve had. It was my friend Nicholson’s birthday, and I had just the top to debut—my Emily Dawn Long Kipling Tank.

This tank top is very scandalous in a fantastic way. I was waiting by the mailbox for it, and it was the first thing I put in my suitcase while packing for Mexico City this week. Nicholson’s birthday was filled with snowcones, tinsel, and Louboutins. Another successful night borough-hopping. I had to call it an early(ish) night, as I would be celebrating Father’s Day in Connecticut on Sunday. I woke up not hungover for the Metro North (a miracle), and got on a train for the third time in 48-hours. I also experimented with an Amazon lip stain that came highly recommended to me, and now I will be wearing it every day.

The only downside to spending so much time on a different island than the one I live on is the fact that I have to pay for cars home. The female burden of not being safe on public transportation after dark. With how I’ve been shopping, I should probably stay in my neighborhood for a while. I got a lot of goodies in the mail this week to say the least. The aforementioned sale products I talked about last week arrived, and I realized I spent $100 on a wristlet from Sandy Liang that can hold nothing. I still love it. The winner of the bunch were the Saint Laurent sunglasses, which I haven’t taken off my face since. I also got a ring from Faris that I love, but it’s turning my finger green. Not pictured is a North Face puffer—very sensible.

The glasses are making me feel like Jackie O and Willy Wonka all at the same time.

The blueprint(s):

The final fashion-thing I would like to share this week is the Prada dress I got from The Real Real a few months back, finally in action after a quick stop at the tailor. I’m really obsessed with this piece, I think it was an awesome addition to my wardrobe, and I will wear it for the rest of my life.

Love Island U.S.A. has full-on taken over my life and I’m letting it happen. Maybe our next chat could be a juicy episode, do you guys watch? Although I would never spend the summer being filmed 24/7 for six weeks, wearing a bikini on national television, risking extreme sun exposure while somebody’s son disrespects me for the entire world to see, I’m really happy there are people who will, and are. I’m also deep into Southern Charm, which will probably be the last Bravo show I watch for a while. This summer I want to dive into my Letterboxd watchlist instead of shows. Here’s what’s on my list right now:

1. Ex Machina

2. Heat

3. Drive

4. Brokeback Mountain

5. Pulp Fiction

6. Sinners

7. Companion

8. Her

9. Inception

10. Jennifer’s Body.

If there are any I should add, let me know. I want to be a certified cinefile by the end of this summer. With how the rain’s been for the past few weeks, it seems like I’ll have some time.