Listening to It Feels Good To Be Around You by Yumi Zouma

Letter's to my Daughter #3. My year in New York.

Hi baby,

I wish I knew what song I was listening to as I flew into New York on December 1st, 2015. I found an old playlist and this track by Yumi Zouma was on it, I remember listening to it during my final days of being in New Zealand, maybe it was this song... I do remember that I was sat next to an American couple who were coming to NY to celebrate their wedding anniversary for the weekend. They were somewhat bemused at my juvenile excitement, before realising I was moving there, and hadn’t even visited once. Quite a novelty. I didn’t really understand how impulsive that was of me at the time, alas I was 22, why the hell not. I’m sure you’ll go on to make your own equally impulsive decisions one day. I’m sure this is what your twenties are for, to live.

I’m sure they said something like “you’ll never forget what it’s like to see the city lights for the first time” and I haven’t. We circled in the air for a good 30 minutes before we could land due to all of the traffic arriving into JFK, so it gave me a chance to take in Gotham City in all its glittery, expansive, darkness. It was close to midnight. I was so excited. My fresh start was starting. I felt lucky. Like anything was possible. Before I knew it, I was dragging my vintage leather suitcase (it had no wheels of course, incredibly impractical, as my own Mother had warned me) across the arrival terminal towards the yellow cab line outside. The next minute we’re driving towards that famous skyline, window wide open, the midnight wind rushing through my hair.

Winding through the dimly lit streets of Brooklyn, I felt so alive, so free, and so trusting of my decision. Arriving to my new apartment in Bushwick, Beka greeted me at the door, welcoming me into my home. I now shared bedroom walls with 4 girls. Everyone else was awake to meet me, even though it was the early hours of a weeknight. Truly the city that never sleeps. Eating a burrito for dinner, taking a sleeping pill and crashing out in one of the girls beds, owning nothing other than my suitcase, I wondered to myself how I got to be so lucky. How was this my my life.

Waking up, I’m in a different room than the one I went to sleep in. I stumble to the doorway and peer out, Beka laughs and says, “we carried you into Greta’s room this morning after she had left to work, so you could keep sleeping”. I must have been out so cold from the sleeping pill that I hadn’t stirred at all. Kooky, but I remember feeling so loved that the girls had taken care of me like that. Checking my phone I had a message from another Kiwi friend who lived on the same street by chance, welcoming me and asking if I was interested in an interview for a job at Zimmermann, where her friend was working. I said yes please and jumped in the shower, purpose emerging for my day and life unfolding by the minute, all within hours of landing in the country! That’s just the type of city New York is, one buzzing with potential, moving at speed.

Everything just fell into place. That was how it felt. All that I had been dreaming of over the last year just flowed; the apartment in Brooklyn, the job in fashion, friends, a life... The only thing that was missing was Marino, who I couldn’t help but want to share everything with. All the details. Discovering dollar beers on Flushing, furnishing our entire apartment with film set art department left overs sold from a stall outside Swallow one evening, our first Thanksgiving, bagels for breakfast, speak easy bars underneath Mexican restaurants in Soho, landing an internship for Bing Bang jewellery and visiting the diamond district just like Julia Fox would do for Uncut Gems a few years later, train trips upstate to Dia Beacon, dumplings down Bedford, late nights at Rock n Rolla, and so much pizza. Every day was an adventure here.

Something else that began bubbling it’s way to the surface was the realisation that I was geographically closer to my Dad now than I had ever been. Ever since I was 2 years old, we had been on different continents, until now. My Dad lives in Canada, in the same house that I was born in, nestled amongst the Rocky Mountains, and so did I before my parents divorced and I moved to New Zealand with my Mum. In hindsight, I can see how my start in life might have driven my desire to leave New Zealand the minute I was free from the structure of school and university. Returning to North America felt natural to me. I found myself chatting away to strangers and feeling a sense of familiarity in their accents, everything reminding me of my Father, and connecting me to a feeling I had long ago tucked away and not allowed myself to feel.

Cross continental love and, in my parents case, divorce, can lead to decades long distance. Baby girl, by the time I came face to face with my Dad again, it had been 19 years. That’s a letter for another day, but I know I was meant to close the distance between us, even if that meant leaving everything behind in New Zealand and starting again. And what better place to do it than in New York as an aspiring fashion stylist?

Cut to, I’m blowing off steam after work at Beverley’s with my angel Casey. We’re dancing to Hands To Myself by Selena Gomez, I mean, what a time it was to be alive. Bathed in pink light, we were just two 20 something girls in a tiny street level bar on the lower east side, surrounded by skater boys, drinking modelo’s. A millennial dream.

The idea of being with Marino was becoming fainter, I was devastated to admit. We didn’t have a future. I remember my colleague Ella commenting one day how many times I checked my phone during my shift at Zimmermann. I felt ashamed to realise I was compulsively checking to see if Marino replied every hour, if not every minute. I began to feel torn, like I was missing out, like I was doing myself a disservice. Everything I had dreamed of was happening for me here, but I was still checking out. So on January 28th, 2016, I did the only thing I knew how. I cut off all communication. Removed him from all social media platforms and sent a brief email to explain myself. The 2000’s love letter if you will. It went as follows. Please excuse while I die of cringe.