Remembering the F.A.B. life!



I moved to NYC with nothing. I had $600, an apartment, one friend, and dreams. We have all heard that story. Tale as old as time, as they say. My first jobs were all in retail - like you do when you're in your late teens/early twenties. These were all jobs I couldn't hold down for longer than one or two months at a time. I was young, broke, fabulous, and a hot mess. However, I'd like to think that one of the reasons I was not able to hold on to a sales position was because instead of dusting shoes, and folding sweaters I was busy standing in the store front windows watching all of the tourists, locals, and socialites of the neighborhood stroll by, casually going about their days seemingly without a care in the world.


I wanted to be them: styled and dressed perfectly, money in hand, shoes whose soles were not worn down to an uneven slope by the grueling sidewalks of the city. That was 'making it' to me back then - just to have undamaged shoes. Some days I would put on my best H&M or MEXX (rip) and saunter down the avenues pretending I was one of their kind. Having the audacity to think that I blended in with the Park Avenue and Fifth Avenue crowd in my cheap polyester, hair extensions, and tarnished earrings. I couldn't have been less fabulous, but there was something about the combination of being young, clueless, fresh to NYC, and positively gorgeous (little had I known then) that sometimes made me feel like I could fly. In hindsight, they were fabulous times, but not for the reasons I wanted them to be.


F.A.B. is a direct narrative of that kid - mesmerized by the glamazons of Fifth Avenue and Soho all the while being fired from shirt-folding job upon shirt-folding job. But I didn't need those jobs. No. My early NYC education ala Sex and the City conditioned me to think that if I worked in a wealthy neighborhood that one day my Mr. Big would sweep me away from it all. And eventually he did, on two different occasions, and on both occasions, it fell way short of what HBO lead me to believe it would be. I hated it, and very early on decided that I needed to be Mr. Big.


Now, I don't know if I would consider myself to be a Fifth Avenue Baby, but I certainly have come a long way from the small town kid who quickly learned what he didn't want, all the while being completely captivated by it all.


Welcome to the F.A.B. life…

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