19th Street

Buildings reflect onto the window of a mannequin supply store on 19th Street. I worked a block away, on 20th street, for most of the time I lived in New York, 20 years ago. I liked to walk through Barney's on the way home because It felt good on the days I was covered in dye splatters to have a doorman open the door for me.

My first job though, was also the last interview I had left. One last address scribbled on a scrap of paper (How did we do these things before the internet?). The costume designer flipped quickly through my overly large portfolio, and said "We don't have anything right now, but if something opens up..."

After days of pounding the pavement and being bumped into in borrowed clothes, I flipped back. "This is where I want to work, this is what I'm looking for, I want to work here and I can start right now." He sent me right into the studio, where I helped paint sets for a Ralph Lauren runway show, while still in my interview clothes.

"Brave," thought the remembering me, with the realization that I am the future self that self was fighting for.