Posted by Christy on February 11th, 2017 under Articles/Interviews
It’s a trip of 30 minutes and many, many income brackets from where I’ve been living, on New York’s Bushwick/Bed Stuy border in not-yet-completely gentrified Brooklyn, to the mid-town Manhattan edifice of the Waldorf Astoria hotel.
It’s a truly, bitterly freezing cold day to make the trip too. A hard frost is riming the sidewalks and I’m thankful for the Swanndri bush shirt I’m wearing and the cheap pair of polypropylene gloves I’ve taken to keeping in my bag at all times.
Freezing, but spectacularly beautiful. Seen from the M train, racketing over the Williamsburg Bridge, the East River is a millpond, only disturbed by the bustle of ferries, garbage barges and – god alone knows why – one lone jet-skier carving some noise out of the frigid, steely water and the low winter sunlight.