In true New York fashion, since I landed here it has been pace.
I have been studying and working in fashion since 2011. I’ve come to be known as “That No More Fashion Victims Girl” due to the notoriety of my blog; the mouthful name I condense into NMFV. The dream was to be a fashion designer, but along the way, I fell hard for styling. I chased the opportunity to learn more. to London and New York, doing courses and just absorbing the culture in these capitals. While my navel string remains buried deep in Trinidad and Tobago, surviving as as a young (30 is the new 20. Don’t let anyone tell you differently) fashion stylist, both creatively and financially, is demotivating to say the least. After spending all of the last year networking in New York City, and burying myself in Visa paperwork, finally I am able to step away from the twin islands for a while, and stretch my legs in an environment where a stylist can struggle with better odds.
Travelling first of all, involves too much human interaction for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, but I prefer to choose the humans that I need to spend time with. So after being sexually harassed during bag inspection at Piarco International, then jumped over by an anxious geriatric on the plane (who then proceeded to shout at all the passengers in front of him. Dude, the doors are still closed. Just take the dump in your Depends) and interrogated and doubted by the immigration official who thought “Stylist” was a word I made up, the Universe gave me a bligh with a decent Lyft journey, and some helping hands to take one of my three pieces of luggage up the five floor staircase that lead to my home for the next few months.
“… the seed has to crack for the plant to grow. Only then can we someday get fruit.”
I’m moving in, while my friend moves out. So we’ve been shuffling boxes, while I use the skills I acquired from hours of Tetris on Gameboy, to fit a ridiculous amount of awkwardly shaped odds and ends into square containers. From Saturday morning to Tuesday night, this was our life. Mind you I have no bed yet, and on night one I realised that my air mattress pump needed batteries, that I was too exhausted to fetch, so I slept on it deflated, just to fool myself into thinking it was not actually the floor. The heat was off for a couple days so I waddled around the apartment in multiple layers, so thick that I couldn’t lift my arms fully. Good times. Honestly though, good times. As a friend put it, a little small suffer builds character. And while I seem to be complaining, I’m really not. I have learned to genuinely welcome hard times, knowing that they come with lessons and magic growing beans attached. Everything happens for a reason, and while New York is always hard on me, I’m also always happiest here. People my age here seem so much older and smarter than I am. I get it. In a matter of days I feel so much tougher. Can you imagine how years of this build you? Granted you’ll take some breaking first, but like I always say, the seed has to crack for the plant to grow. Only then can we someday get fruit.
Now today, the heat has been cranked up. My blow up bed might as well be a Tempur-Pedic, as I can’t tell the difference. The fridge is stocked. Internet is working. No boxes need to be moved in a rush. And all I’m thinking is, why is it snowing? I think I’ll just go downstairs to see what’s up. I feel too lazy just sitting in here writing and watching Netflix. Life is funny like that.