Living a Nolita Fairytale.

When your grandmother spends $1000 on a beautiful wooden piano, you feel compelled to take a few lessons. And indeed when a ten year old version of myself suddenly found I had a new musical instrument in my possession, I enlisted the services of Hannah from “Andy’s Hall of Rock.”

As the only individual without piercings in compromising areas, Hannah seemed the quintessential externally defined version of normal. In slimming maxi dresses, she defied the Ramone-inspired dress code at Andy’s.

When, after only 10 lessons, Hannah left New York to start a life in West Virginia, I was hardly surprised. I also determined that without Hannah I could not continue to feign musical talent, and so I put my grandmother’s feelings aside and allowed the potentially melodious instrument to gather dust.

However, I soon entered my teen years and Vanessa Carlton, a singer with a gift for the piano, became my idol. Suddenly I was willing to spend ungodly amounts of time beside an aspiring punk rocker at Andy’s if it meant I, too, could live the “Nolita Fairytale”:

My mother, however, was hesitant and, like a good New Yorker, skeptical. I had a tendency to aspire to be people that for a variety of  athletic and musical limitations I could never actually become.

When I was nine, I wanted to be Tara Lipinski, the figure skater who won the 1998 Olympic gold medal. I enlisted in classes, and within days I was wearing a hockey helmet because my lack of grace necessitated its presence.

Then there was my David Beckham phase. My coach assigned me to defend the goalie, and when I failed to adequately complete that task, I was permanently reassigned to the sidelines. After one season, my soccer career came to a sedentary close.

And so instead of allowing me to re-engage in a musical rendezvous, my mother instructed me to live the lyrics rather than play them. Well, avid readers, today I made my lyrical dreams a distinct reality. Along with two lovely Wellesley women, I became a proud renter of an apartment in Nolita.

Aside from the fact that we live across the street from the BEST CUPCAKE SHOP in North America and on top of an adorable shoe boutique, we are also within walking distance of two excellent coffee shops: Cafe Habana and Gimme! Coffee. And with a name like Gimme! Coffee, I believe I may have found my soulmate– or perhaps soulbuilding?

I may be living paycheck to paycheck, but I am determined to maintain the caffeinated lifestyle I have grown accustomed to. And with a fifteen minute walk to work every morning, I am going to need all the Gimme goodness Nolita has to offer.


2 responses to “Living a Nolita Fairytale.

  1. Gimme! Gimme! More.
    Gimme! More.
    Gimme! Gimme! Mooore…coffee.

    Okay, you can come back now!

  2. skippingstones

    I don’t drink coffee – wait, am I allowed to read your blog? – but if I did, it would be in a place called Gimme! Coffee. How could you not?

    I’m enjoying your blog, and it’s making me a little nostalgic for being young. I wouldn’t do it over again, but I would definitely shave off a few years if it were somehow possible.

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