One of the things I love about New York is the collection of weird stories one begins to acquire after having lived here. This August will mark eight years for me, and in that time a few things have happened:
1. Being approached by a man with a curious accent that sounded like a cross between Transylvanian and Donald Duck, who offered me money in exchange for granting him access to my feet, which he wanted to lick.
2. Being approached by another man with a black eye and a bloody, bandaged nose at 3am while I was waiting for the crossing signal, who said he needed to tell me a secret, to which I was like, "Hey cool story, hold that thought I need to go see something on the other side of the street real quick."
3. Being approached by yet another bloodied man, who then fell on top of me.
4. Getting hit by a car and inciting a response from the driver of, "You ok? Yeah, you're good. Kbai."
5. Stopping a knife fight on the subway. Just kidding that didn't happen. I probably would have gotten off at the next stop because I'm a coward and hate blood.
6. Sitting next to a man who was dressed as The Colonel on the subway, who kept repeatedly rising, walking slowly around the car and eyeing everyone, then returning to his seat, before finally getting off at Union Square and yelling upon his departure, "WELL I DO DECLARE" (that did happen).
7. Being approached by someone at a bar, who in one breath told me I was an angel who had transformed the place into heaven, and then that I was a trashy hoe. Still not quite sure what happened there.
8. Having amazing opportunities (good).
9. Meeting amazing people (great).
10. Creating amazing memories (most excellent).
Zara jacket and boots; J. Crew tank; Anthropologie tights; BDG shorts; Banana Republic necklace.