So hip it …
… must be Brooklyn?
Since I moved, I have largely restricted my activities to the island of Manhattan. For no reason in particular, you see; it just seemed the most natural course of action, given the sheer amount of stuff to do here. But the time finally came for me to get rid of my tunnel vision by … at the risk of sounding totally nerdy … taking a tunnel.
Now, there’s a lot of talk about Williamsburg as the new hip, trendy, “it” spot in Brooklyn. And it’s true, many designers, artists, and so-hip-it-hurts types live and hang here. But this was not my introduction. No. I went to a place called Greenpoint. Greenpoint has for years been a first landing spot for the bulk of Polish immigrants to the area, but it is since also being shared by new Puerto Rican immigrants. So, as you can imagine, lots of delis, and young boys in moustaches … both blond- and black-haired!
The scene: a surprise birthday that a graphic designer boyfriend was throwing for his karaoke-loving girlfriend in his commercial loft space that he lives in. So it’s pretty big even by Toronto standards, and the guy obviously loves his gf so much that he rented and set up a right-proper Karaoke stage, including a projector, stand up microphone, and enough room for all the leg-kicks you want. It was a slow start, but once the “Surprise” part was over, the singing began in earnest.
I felt pretty hip for about … oh … 15 minutes. Which is about when the lights turned on. Manhattan this was not! I looked around at the other guest, most of which comprised of graphic design students that all went to SVU (School of Visual arts – apparently pretty prestigious), and ivy-league trust fund kids that evidently decided to rebel against all things parental. Let’s just say I kinda stuck out in my Banana Republic top and Rock jeans … everyone else looked like they stepped out of the Cosby show set. The kicker was when three girls walked in, and I had to do a double-take to convince myself that I did not just see Chrissy, Janet, and Terry from Three’s Company. I’m not even kidding. “Janet” had the high-waisted dark blue pants, that were a couple of inches too short and belled at the bottom … “Chrissy” had the cotton, almost terry-cloth like short-shorts that curved up on the side with a pony-tail … it was pretty unreal. Then this one guy walked in and stood at the back of the room watching the performances. I thought he was a homeless guy that wandered in off the street. He had these faded, tight jeans cut off at the knees, a t-shirt, and carrying a backpack. His hair was dark brown, shoulder-length, and a touch greasy. He also had this small, dark moustache (a little old-school-German-looking if you know what I mean). Well, turns out his parents are some kind of loaded, and he owns an entire building in DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass — a neighborhood in Brooklyn that was sketchy until the models moved in and is now said to be the next SoHo — or so the story goes). So I guess he wasn’t homeless after all.
Again. Me. Banana Republic top. Imagine. (I’m still cringing).
Next, imagine the pressure when it came to song selection!! I knew I couldn’t bust out Fergie-ferg, but was not familiar enough with the Pixies, etc. that seems pretty popular among this art set. So I took a deep breath and decided for a short diddy by Simon and Garfunkel … Cecilia for those of you that know it. Yup, even fell onto my knees for dramatic effect. (Listen, I had to redeem myself somehow!) Some people actually talked to me after that, so it must not have been that horrific. (Thank g-o-d I didn’t tell them I worked at a bank. Social suicide for sure).
I’ll be spending the weekend shopping. And NOT at Saks.
Random quote heard on the trading floor: “We’ve only been married two weeks and my wife is already nagging me nonstop about having a baby … maybe I’ll have one just to shut her up ….”
Latest pick-up attempt: “I’m a professional wrestler … you can see me on channel 24 on Saturdays … “
