New York, New York
New York City. How I've missed you. You were something all too familiar to me. Like someone I met in a past life. Someone who had known me inside and out once before.
Truth is, I have been here before. I had just turned 15, and in Hispanic tradition, I was given the option to have a quinceanera. Or a car. Or a trip to New York City. Can you guess what I chose?
I went with my cousin Sofia, my grandmother, and my tia, and we had a blast. We explored all the touristy sites like the Statue of Liberty, Pier 35, and the Empire State Building. Sofia and I danced in the streets and tried food from every corner. We went shopping in Times Square and picked new outfits for the day. We were in NYC for 3 days. It felt like 3 seconds. When we left, It was the only city I ever thought about. And I never, ever stopped.
I have been manifesting going back to NY ever since. I plotted on my future, wondering which career is going to make me the most money to take me back there. But deep down, I knew I wanted to be a writer. Even though it would take time to make money from it, I wanted it anyway. Badly. I haven't put down the pen since.
At 19, I was working as a leasing agent for a large apartment company. This particular company had properties in NYC. This was my calling, I thought. This is how I'm going to make it back to NYC. Did I stop to think that this meant I was still going to be doing this miserable job, just in another city? Of course not. It’s NYC. Nothing else mattered. Until this bullshit company fired me.
Dreams of NYC came to a grinding halt.
Now I work for one of the largest hotel chains in the world, and it’s been amazing. The money is alright at best, but the benefits are top tier: 12 free stays a year, at any of the chain’s hotels, anywhere in the world. A lightbulb appeared over my head and beamed brightly…
I booked my hotel in October. Booked my flight in November. I landed in New York City in January. At 22, I was back baby.
I stayed for 6 days, at two different hotels, 3 nights at each. The first one was Bowery 50 in lower Manhattan, and our room had a spectacular view. I landed quite late but was buzzing with anticipation to step outside. I unpacked quickly, bundled up, and started my journey. I need greasy takeout immediately.
The walk to the nearest Chinese restaurant was 3 minutes, and all I had to do was follow the smell. Joe’s Shanghai was nothing short of delicious. I took my order back to my hotel and stared at the view from my room. A fork-full of General Tso’s chicken in one hand, and the other fidgeting with my necklace. Wow, I thought. I’m really here. But looking out the window had me thinking. Why is this place so special to me? I wanted to remember what it was I had been chasing all this time.
So at nine AM the next morning, I set out on a mission through the city. A mission to remind myself why New York had been beckoning me for years.
My day started with a hearty breakfast at Golden Diner: black coffee, eggs, sausage, and hash browns. While delicious, it hadn’t reminded me of my purpose there in NY. Onward I went.
I walked 30 minutes to the 9/11 Museum, to absorb the city’s biggest tragedy, and remember those who passed and those who lived to tell the horror of that day. When I tell you I have never cried so much in a museum, I have never cried so much. Living in Texas, you think you know all you need to know about the terrorist attack, but no. The artifacts left behind, the photographs, the stories of people who had lost their family, people who will never recover their family, and people who were stuck in the World Trade Center that day. Plenty of people had told me to skip this part of the trip, but I refused, and I’m glad I did. I left that museum a different person. I left feeling dread and sorrow, but somehow still hopeful, patriotic even. I carry a piece of that feeling with me every day. I was slowly getting closer to my purpose.
All the tears had made me hungry. For all my Austinites who have never been to NYC, I tried Joe’s Pizza, and let me say … I fear Homeslice is better! While iconic and casually star-studded, Joe’s was missing that Homeslice flare.
After hours of walking, I finally hit Canal St, a place known for haggling on the street with sketchy vendors for knock-off designer items. So that’s exactly what I did. And did I leave with a semi-shitty Dior bag? Yes, I did! It was enchanting.
The next morning, we hit a fabulous brunch spot called Citizens of SoHo. It should be called Roaches of SoHo because I found one in my food that day. Yes! You read that right! I dipped my spoon into my (otherwise) delicious egg bake, and before I took a bite, I noticed something peculiar. Six legs, and an exoskeleton. Needless to say, my $87 bill was comped.
I walked some more and kept on walking until I stumbled upon Saks Fifth Avenue. It was gorgeous. The architecture, the window displays, and the REAL designer goodies. I frolicked through Oscar de la Renta, Chanel, Christian Dior, Louis Vuitton, you name it. I even attended a Marc Jacobs sample sale nearby and scored $600 sunglasses for $60. Oh yes, I thought, now THIS is my purpose in NYC. But I'd soon learn, it’s just not quite it.
After exploring Manhattan, Times Square, and museums, I found myself at Rockefeller Center– often by mistake. I was seeking Grand Central Station or a specific restaurant, or simply admiring the iconic skating rink. That week, SNL was preparing for its 50th anniversary celebrations. I roamed the center, absorbing SNL memorabilia, the writer’s showcase, and early photographs of the show. It must be rewarding to be part of such a phenomenon. Those writers had the chance of a lifetime to work on one of America’s most-watched shows, now getting to celebrate a milestone. My longing for a career in writing grew stronger in that building.
And this fed the shit out of my purpose. It’s all coming back now as to why I was in New York City in the first place.
I walked through the streets, strutting in my pre-planned outfits, silently hoping someone would discover me (such a NYC thing to think). I packed elegant dresses I never wore. I don't know why, but I felt a different confidence in New York that didn't require sequins and jewels. A new Zoe was forming in place of the old one.
I also ventured to the Met Museum, and it was spectacular in all its grandeur. There is nothing like that in Texas. I mean nothing.
On my last day, I explored the New York Library, the one with the lion statues. How wonderful it must be to walk there on a warm sunny day, sit in one of the eclectic study rooms, and write my heart away. Everywhere I went I could envision myself living there, what it would feel like, and where I wanted to work.
I passed the Condé Nast headquarters and felt a head-rush, like a little girl looking at Cinderella’s castle at Disneyland for the first time. Now this– this is where I belong. The home of Vogue, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, and all the most quintessential magazines of my wildest career dreams. And mark my words, I will be there again.
I sat on the plane ride back home, playing a montage of the city in my head as I watched it grow farther and farther away from me. It was a somber moment, but it fueled something in me. New York, I promise to be back, and I promise to stay.
A city of opportunity, and excitement. A city that represents everything I had ever wanted to be since I was 15. Yet, I returned just as lost as the first time. But I left a brand new person, with bigger goals, bigger ambitions, and bigger dreams. When I come back to New York, start spreading the news– cause I’m leaving today.
xo, zo
