In Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Holly Golightly (played by Audrey Hepburn, of course) stands in front of a window display at Tiffany’s. It marked a simple yet chic moment in cinematic history. Not only did it capture a distinct memory, but also represented a generation of those seeking New York’s cosmopolitan world.
Many pour into the city hoping to live a life, which would inspire Truman Capote to rise from the dead and write about it in a controversial book. Invites to the Met Ball, fashion week, art gallery opening, extravagant parties, doing lunch at an Upper East Side cafe and even the simple joys of sitting in a Central Park bench, allure thousands to the city. Many arrive to escape the narrow mindedness of their hometowns and seek creative freedom. While others descend into the city, since films, books and TV make New York seem like the most exciting place on earth.
Then there are tourists who want to have a moment in front of Tiffany’s and not pay $2,000 a month for a studio. Tourists fascinate New Yorkers. While most New Yorkers attempt to bolt past Times Squares, many tourists stand in awe at the glitter and flashy advertisements. However, some tourists don’t just come to taste a real bagel and visit the Whitney Museum. Some are looking for more than a tour guide.
Like any proper Sunday, I took my evening stroll downtown, came back to my apartment and looked for a date via the Internet. I was looking for a New York guy who said “fuggedaboutit” after every life crisis. Instead, I got a “y’all.” This guy from Texas messaged me. I was intrigued actually. We chatted and he asked “I am taking my first trip to New York, want to hang out?’ he asked. I gave a nervous smile as I typed in yes.
Our meet up was to be determined. However, after he arrived in the city, he texted me “I am on Fifth Avenue, meet me at the Gucci store.” I lifted a right eyebrow in an “oh please manner, seriously? Gucci?” For some reason, I didn’t text him back, saying that’s pretentious, instead I replied, “ok.” Even though, I walked down Fifth Avenue everyday on my way to work, I had never gone into any of the fancy shops. Curiosity tickled my senses.
After work, I layered up and emerged into the freezing cold Manhattan night. I walked into the Gucci store, since Mr. Texas said to meet him at the entrance. I looked around and around, but couldn’t find him. Feeling dumbfounded, I called him ” hey I am at the Gucci store, where are you?” I am here at the entrance, he said. Then I walked over to the security guard, “excuse me sir, this is the Gucci store right?” I asked. He laughed, “No sir, this is Louis Vuitton.” I also giggled, since all those fancy shops looked a like to someone who shops at outlets & H & M.
Finally, I found out the difference between Louis Vuitton and Gucci. Mr. Texas and I didn’t get along so wonderfully. Mutually we agreed that a little booze would strengthen our bond. So we traded in luxury consumer goods for grungy East Village dive bar. Even though there wasn’t a love connection, Mr. Texas made a delightful drinking buddy. I stepped outside for some fresh air when I saw him. He was the blond and mirrored preppy me. His sweater was equally charming. I felt just like Holly Golightly standing in front of the Tiffany’s window mesmerized.
After making contact, I made conversation with Mr. Preppy. He was delightful and down to earth. Suddenly, when I wasn’t looking, he planted a kiss on me. I rather enjoyed it. Gritty Second Avenue flourished with romance for a brief moment. I smiled. He smiled. However, we didn’t make a love connection. Mr. Texas also found romance while at the dive bar. I said my goodbyes to Mr. Texas.
After an evening of the unexpected, I hailed a cab and went back to my apartment. It was another wonderful Manhattan evening. A year later, I would go back to the Gucci store with Natalia. As I wandered the glittery racks, I saw the sticker price for sweaters and almost fainted. “Wow, this sweater costs more than my rent,” I proclaimed.