PULL UP CARRIE BRADSHAW i just want to talk
How unrealistic is Sex and the City REALLY?! GUN TO MY HEAD my writing will get me a brownstone. Word is bond.
Sunny and 75 on a spring day, iced coconut latte in hand, headphones playing the new Billie Eilish album on a loop, and rows and rows of pretty green trees and even prettier brownstones.
Listen, I stay minding my business, but as soon as I see a human being walk out of one of those brownstone $60 million townhouses my mind wonders what the hell they do for a living to afford to live there. I assume it’s something boring, the boring jobs always pay well; data analyst for some hedge fund (what even is a hedge fund?), head of sales for industrial piping, some obscure position they have difficulty explaining themselves. OR I assume they’re an artist that sells their art for $70k a piece. Right?!
My walk down West Village was divine, as always. Something about the tree-lined streets and flower-filled stumps makes me believe life is worth living…idk.
I sat on a stoop to fix my lipgloss, as one does, when a young older man opened the door to leave. His salt and pepper beard made him look like he could be a grandpa and his kind eyes were so bright. I immediately apologized and prepared my things to get up but he gently patted my shoulder and said “Stay where you are I’ll be out of your way in a sec, sweetheart.” SWEETHEART?! Yes, I am thank you :) He seemed nice enough, and really he’s just a person in the world, so I asked what he does for a living. “I work in book publishing” he answered. NO WAY. — I dream of working in publishing. Of writing for a living. I dream of dying in a beautiful brownstone filled with stacks of books I’ve helped publish and writing that shifted my world. I sipped my coffee and joked, “OH, like Carrie Bradshaw!” He laughed and agreed before collecting his briefcase and walking down the stoop, wishing me a good day.
Looking up at the windows and trees, breathing in the sounds of distant cars and leaves, this is what I want. BUT CARRIE BRADSHAW?! How the hell did she afford to live here?! Is it even realistic?! AND HER SPENDING HABITS?!
SO, it turns out I am NOT completely delusional and IT’S COMPLETELY KIND OF MAYBE ATTAINABLE to afford a West Village apartment as a writer. Exhibit A: the writer I literally just met living in West Village and bopping around with the life I want to live, no big deal.
After extensive research (googling), I found that Carrie was probably contracted for around $60k to write exclusively for The New York Star, by the end, she was a freelance writer for Vogue mag. Somewhere in the series she mentioned her apartment was rent stabilized and $700 a month. However, that was 1998 and we all are very aware that rent would lean more towards… $4k…I’m still not completely delusional, follow me here. IT’S STILL POSSIBLE. BECAUSE THE STOOP MAN SAID SO.
Also, while Carrie Bradshaw is fictional, the woman she was based off is very real.
Candace Bushnell, author and journalist for The New York Observer back in the 90’s. She created a humorous column for the paper called what? Sex and the City.
Candace was making $5k a month writing for Vogue on top of her contract with The Observer.
By the time I finished all this research my latte was at its end and the stoop man returned with a coffee and a book. Did I talk to him? Yes of course this was my only chance.
He smiled while walking up the stairs and I word vomited. “It’s my dream to work in publishing… and be a writer… and to live here. Is it even possible anymore?” Had to get it out before he left.
Stoop man took a step back and said “It’s possible. I moved to the city in the 80’s to work in publishing. It was a dream. But I write because I have stories to tell. Why do you write?”
“I write so I can breathe again. I read books so I can see.” I replied. He smirked and said “Yeah, you’re a writer. Don’t give up and you’ll be my neighbor soon enough.”
This bared the question, how much are you willing to go through to make your dream reality? Take the $60k contract? Be broke for a few years? So you can write for a living? Or make clothes? Or paint? And eventually, one day, make it to the brownstone in West Village? Doesn’t sound so bad. Carrie wrote because she loved it. Candace wrote because she loved it.. a la lucha!
ANYWAY,
this was my little story of the day and where it took my mind. Find me here or there, coconut latte in hand, headphones playing something on a loop, writing and reading.
Authored by Gisélle.
You write with such flair!! Also, how nice of that stranger to actually talk to you and give you some words of encouragement. The key to doing anything well is to love what you’re doing, and I honestly believe if you love what you write then you’ll find others who love it too. I loved this!!
reading this felt so personal to me! i forgot for a second that i was reading because i had the feeling you were just telling me about your day! that is what they call having a great writing style!!