Urban Drowning

It's a fascinating concept. Urbanites suffering at the hands of Nature because they paved everything. Drains are flooded, feet are wet, even the dogs are miserable. Kids no longer wanting to jump into puddles. Today, for a change this week, I'm actually dry. I placed my shoes in a plastic grocery bag, rolled up my jeans legs, and walked out into another miserable day.

Which is funny, because I actually really like rain. Just not when I have to go to work in it. My boyfriend said this morning he couldn't wake me up even though I told him too. It was like being in a drugged sleep. I could have slept for hours. But I didn't. Instead I dragged myself out of bed and made it here fifteen minutes late, as compared to the twenty minutes late yesterday. If it doesn't get sunny soon I'm probably going to start using my sick days!

But more importantly than that, there comes the numbness of "urban drowning". I realized last night, walking home that I was walking by stores by some of the most important designers out there right now. Dolce and Gabanna, Chanel, Donna Karan, MaxMara, La Perla. It occurred to me, looking into their warm, DRY interiors, that I work in a place that allows me to walk by them everyday. I could essentially pop down to Louis Vuitton during work, or Mont Blanc right after. It's amazing. I'm in charge of my life, and surrounded by the designers I love, yet I can't afford any of them. It makes me wonder how many other people who work down in this neighborhood in "poorer" career choices (i.e. anything other than i-banking) think the same thing and eventually let themselves drown in the show of labels in the store windows and more importantly on the streets. Because they are everywhere. There are always rich women tauting the latest design and the prices shoot up the minute one of those designers makes it to a sitcom or drama.

If I wanted to, and if Mr. Visa would allow it, I could deck myself out in every name brand you could think of, every day. I could turn into a rolling rack girl. I could show up to work in Manolos and a Dolce skirt, or an Anne Fontaine shirt paired with classic Chanel pumps. And I wouldn't even have to leave my neighborhood to have access to these places. Because they're all around me all the time. Which makes me think of what one of my co-workers was saying recently about the development of SoHo. She remembered being a little girl and coming through here with her father when there was NOTHING but actual warehouses and factories. No one lived down here except for a few poor hippies and writers. Now, an average Soho loft goes for about a million per bedroom and a studio here starts at well above $2K per month. To live down here, you can be artsy or as much of a bohemian as you want, but it better be a Roberto Cavalli bohemian skirt as opposed to an actual cheaply made substitute.

When I first began working down here I imagined myself knowing all the windows all the time, watching as they changed their mannequins to accomadate new looks and seasons. Instead, I ignore them, for the most part. My window shopping has even gone out the window. I walk by Chanel without glancing inside. Okay, maybe not Chanel, but I definitely sped past DKNY and MaxMara last night without a second look. It's what I call the urban drown. Being able to fully ignore the fact you work above Prada or down the street from Versace. Being able to walk into your office wearing Banana Republic and Gap and try not to feel the shame that goes with that if you happen to work with someone who does, in effect, wear the store windows.

It's actually become okay that I probably won't be wearing any designer names for quite some time. I'm happy to stick to the middle-class American look- Levi jeans (not even the premium denim-gasp!) and Banana Republic sweaters over J. Crew undershirts. It is just a label, right?