Socks & The City (Story Time!)

When I’m asked about my favorite experiences since being in New York, I’m always so fast to go back to a Tuesday night I spent in Soho with one of my roomies, Ella. It was September, it was fashion week, and I was still pretty new to the city and the life that came with it. Ella and I had registered online for a fashion show happening in Soho at eight o’clock, and I eventually ended up deciding to skip a class so I’d be able to go. Bold of me, since we’re only allowed two absences a semester and that was probably my third week. We were so excited for this show. We got to dress up for it- in typical New York fashion; we got to go to Soho for it- an area we were both new to, yet already obsessed with. We were still early in our friendship too, so we were both excited at the opportunity for some quality bonding and memory making- and it was our first NEW YORK FASHION WEEK! I think this was the first show we were going to just to watch and not to volunteer at. 

We got to the show 2 hours prior to the time the doors were supposed to open and stood in line- shifting our weight from one leg to the other, pretending the heels we were in weren’t killing our feet- counting down the minutes until eight. Believe it or not- nothing happened at eight. About twenty minutes past though, someone came out and explained that there had been confusion of some sort, and to wait patiently. So we did- so patiently. Eventually, through mass confusion, we were told we weren’t getting into the show (along with most others), but that the models would do a walk outside for us after the show. Disappointed, but not ready to give up, Ella and I entertained ourselves until the show ended and the models came out. As far as we were concerned, we were just getting a “special, on-the-street” version of the show! 

After the models walked, we were determined to continue our night. I’d skipped a class for it- and I was not about to let that be a waste. We looked for somewhere to get milkshakes and began our trek there. Barely able to walk by the time we got there because of our choice of shoes, we were faced with an empty restaurant and a sign about “new hours.” This is the point of the story where I thank God socks and heels were trending, and we’d both partaken. We collectively ditched the heels and decided our socks were enough barrier between us and the streets of Manhattan.

So we walked, 30 minutes back in the direction we’d just come from, heels in hand and socks on the pavement. Somehow, instead of being frustrated at the cards we’d been dealt so far, we laughed and talked the entire walk to our next destination- which- you guessed it- was closed.. We set from there to a third place for the milkshakes we were so hell-bent on getting. It wasn’t terribly close either- but it was OPEN. We sat down, got cozy, and prepared to order. It was a rude awakening, however, when the waiter informed us they didn’t make milkshakes past 11:00. Determined now, and far from ready to admit defeat, we walked out and onto stop number four. 

We took the long way to the next one, somehow enjoying every minute of our walk. As we walked (still in socks, mind you) we stared in awe at the city around us, and all we could manage to talk about was how grateful we were. Maybe we didn’t get into the show, maybe our feet were borderline broken, maybe every attempt we’d made at milkshakes had been a loss, but one thing none of those things changed? We were going to fashion school in New York City, something we’d both been dreaming of for so long and we knew that not everyone who shared that dream was able to actually do. When we eventually made it to our next stop- get this- WE GOT OUR MILKSHAKES. We finally relaxed, sitting at a little yellow table on the street, feeling so accomplished. 

That night we spent hours talking about how grateful we were. Even though everything we tried to do kept going wrong, it didn’t matter. We were disappointed, sure, but we decided that it wasn’t going to ruin our night. We bounced back every time. We were drunk on the possibilities of New York, on the excitement for the phases of our lives we were just merely beginning, on our dreams we were finally living.

I think about that night all the time. Ella and I still talk about it- in fact, we accredit it for having truly begun our (wondrous, gorgeous, amazing) friendship. It was such a beautiful thing- the entire night. Enchanted by our new home, somehow falling more and more in love with every shoe-less step. I learned, truly, that (most of the time) life’s what you make it. It was one of my favorite nights, yet nothing went right. When plans I’ve set for my life start to crumble, I think about Soho, and how lucky I am just to be here in the first place. I love New York. I love the life I get to live here. I will never stop being grateful for it, even when I can’t find a milkshake anywhere.

Xx,

Kiki in NYC<3