… so I decided to stop my stupid moping and go read somewhere other than my couch. It was still raining, as it had been all morning – but I thought maybe it would feel romantic. I walked down the block and wondered if maybe Black Press is a better place to meet my husband. “Autumn” I said to myself, “who TF cares, where do YOU want to get the freaking coffee?”. I wanted Frame, it’s my favorite. Plus – it’s just aesthetically more my vibe, so I keep walking the extra block; and before I even enter I see absolutely no place to read my book. I figured maybe the universe was guiding me somewhere different; that’s what I always say to myself when something doesn’t go to plan. However, some days that’s easier than others. 

I turn around and go back to Black Press. I got an unusual order for me: a white chocolate raspberry latte half sweetened and hot. Now, I’m normally a quad-shot-iced-Americano kind of girl but I’m trying something different today to see if it helps pull me from my funk. It’s drizzling at this point, and there is nowhere to sit inside, but there are some benches under an awning outside and I think it’s just the right place to sit and enjoy the rain without being directly in it. I’m actually super happy I left my house, –  I needed a change of scenery. Badly.

If it’s not obvious by my tone, – I’m not doing so well here. And a week before my birthday no less.

Well actually, outwardly, to the world, I’m doing wonderful things. I have my own Fine Jewelry Company, ‘Always, A.’ and it’s slowly and steadily building traction – just enough to allow me to maintain it and my full time job without pulling my hair out. I have incredible friends; I like to dress in cool outfits; I like to think; and I live in the cutest little rent stabilized apartment on the Upper West Side, right in between Central Park West and Columbus. And before you go on with your assumptions, no, I likely wouldn’t be able to live here if it was an INSANE deal.

Additionally, I really wouldn’t live here if they hadn’t let me pull my own credit score for the apartment and – with that stroke of luck, I faked my 550 credit score to a 630 to secure what is now mine. I knew I could pay the rent, but my student loans have destroyed me in the credit sphere, and I was not about to let that be the reason this miracle didn’t happen for me. 

P.S. Antionette, if you are reading this – please don’t hate me, I really love my home (that I have paid for consistently for almost 2 years now hehe).

When I say miracle, I really mean it. The story on how I actually got this apartment is kind of bonkers. 

Basically, freshly single, had just quite literally had the rug ripped from under my relationship and while I can now see that this moment was going to be a blessing that I would reap benefits from for years to come. At that time though, I was devastated and so confused. They took my innocent little romcom loving, hopelessly romantic heart and chucked it off the empire state building.

I started searching for new apartments immediately. We didn’t live together but I needed a fresh start. I toured several but nothing was worth the money. One on west 86th had a hole in the door, no sunlight  and basically exited directly onto an express stop street – $2,500 and I wouldn’t have been able to have more than a bed and maybe a chair. Another apartment was on w 96th street. This one was also rent stabilized but had a move in date ASAP. I waited in a line that strolled down an entire west side block (those are long as crap, by the way). I was obviously never going to get that one but hell, I tried. 

Then, I saw this one… $1,900 a month at the time in the 70’s and baby, was it was dreamy. It had a move in date of September 1st and it was early July, but I had a flexible move due to a convenient circumstance of my other best friend also going through a break up and moving into my old bedroom. 

I went to tour the apartment and really hit it off with the broker. She was an older woman, who had fabulously been showing brownstones in Manhattan for many years. We talked about my break up and me needing a fresh start, she had great advice and if for nothing else, I was grateful to have met her and be reminded that life goes on. 

It always does. 

With that, she told me how people were flying from across the country for this apartment, throwing money at it and offering double or even triple the rent to live here. After that, I was like, welp I don’t even have a credit score that would allow me to rent a box at this point, so I really don’t know how I’m going to make this work but when I opened the door to this apartment, I just felt it in my chest… I was home.

A few days went by and I followed up with Kathy, the broker. She let me know that she loved chatting with me but that the landlord had chosen someone else’s application, and wished me the best of luck on my search. I was so confused! 

It felt like mine. It felt like when I was on a plane for the first time coming to New York, right after high school. We were still in the clouds and I remember never feeling more normal about something, I knew at that moment that coming to New York, even for the very first time, felt like coming home.

I toured a few more apartments after that, but this one stayed in my head. I followed up with Kathy about a week later because I could see that this listing was still “in contract”, and knowing that with Manhattan real estate things often move quicker than Hotdogs at a Yankees game or the Q train when you catch it on the right day, that maybe I’d have a shot. To my dismay, she let me know that the following morning the contract was being signed. I responded by saying:

 “Blahhh, okay I just thought I’d check! Thanks so much for keeping me updated (:”. Using pleasantries to mask my disappointment.

However, I’m feeling hopeful and trusting that against whatever negative odds I can come up with, that everything is working out in my favor and I’ll get MY apartment. I guess that just wasn’t it. That night, there was a full moon and being the woo woo girl that I am, I manifested HARD. I wasn’t manifesting this apartment. I manifested for my apartment, whatever that may be.

I woke up Monday morning to a text – it was Kathy. 

Basically, she told me she woke up to a text at 5am from the girl who was supposed to sign the contract that day. Apparently, her boyfriend asked her to move in with him and she no longer needs the apartment. Is your jaw on the floor? 

She said that the landlord told her she could take her choice of who she thought should take the apartment. She said she couldn’t help but think back to the text I sent saying, “Blahhh, just thought I’d ask” and chuckled, she hoped I was still in the market and felt I deserved it. 

My jaw is on the freaking floor.

Is this real life? Is this happening? More so, did I make this happen? I’m moving out?! And to an apartment practically on central park west that I CAN AFFORD?

Within a week, I had my contract signed and I was ready to start packing. Come September I was in my new little home.

____________

Which brings me to now. Spending all day on my couch feeling blah and not being able to pull motivation out of anywhere, except to read my smutty little romance book. That for the last week, had been able to pull me slightly out of a funky head space. If not for the hope of real love, for the hope of an enemy to lovers’ sexual escapade.

I digress. 

____________

I stepped in the salon to get my nails done, really – it is my birthday week after all and while my saturn return is well, returning, super fucking hard, I refuse to not have a little birthday magic in my life. 

“Mani pedi please”, I say with a smile that I had to pull from the depths of my soul. As I choose my color and get settled I pull my book back out to continue figuring out when Kelsey and JP are finally going to just fall in love and have mindblowing sex. 

My pedicure takes a while, because obviously I chose the one with a 20 minute massage. If there is one thing you should know about me, it’s that I love a service (insert sparkle emoji here). After my pedicure, they move me to the manicure table. Overhearing the conversation next to me, it looks like one of the salon employees’ daughter is sketching a portrait of the woman next to me. As they were finishing up, she came over to me. A very sweet young girl who’s maybe 17? 

She asked if she could draw me a self portrait – Listen, I’m a woman of the arts and who am I to deprive the youth of our generation a moment of artistic exploration. Plus, I could use a pick me up. Also, she said she accepted payment in the form of hugs…for real, a lady after my own heart. This is exactly what the world needs more of.

We spent the next 10 minutes chatting. She asks me about my jewelry company and how long I’ve lived here and I ask her about school and where she started drawing. Before I knew it, she turned around the sweetest and honestly, mosy beautiful version of me sketched on to a piece of printer paper. I start to tear up, as I celebrate her talent. She had no idea how much I needed that.

We hug and I say bye to everyone at the nail salon, as it was kind of an intimate experience today. After that, I head to Trader Joe’s to try and get myself set up for the week, just a few things for lunch and breakfast and some frozen meals for dinner. Working a full time job and running a business can get super overwhelming, especially for me because, well, I’m a perfectionist and the minute I feel like I’m not giving my all to something I panic and go into freeze mode and how I am supposed to never feel that way, when it’s almost impossible to give your all to two things at once? 

Yup, I eat, sleep and breathe fine jewelry and I LOVE IT. No, really I do and I feel so unbelievably grateful to have the job I do. My boss is amazing, all my coworkers are cool, we make super sick stuff and more than all of that, my boss knows I have my own company and is okay with that, which allows a lot of freedom. Not every job I’ve had here has had the same outlook and I’ve been through some pretty toxic environments in this industry, but those are a story for another time. 

Anyways, giving my all – that’s where we’re at. 

I can be really mean to myself, and feel more often than not like I’m not showing up enough. For me, for my friends, for my jobs. 

I have a lot of people in my life that would and often do come at me with pitchforks when I say this, because they think it couldn’t be further from the truth. I always appreciate that sentiment, of course, who wouldn’t love being told, “you are doing so much and doing it well”, “you’re thriving”, “you’re such a badass” but for whatever reason, I can’t let myself believe them. 

You’re probably asking yourself, “why, Autumn? If you know all this and know you should believe them, then why don’t you?”. GREAT QUESTION GRETTA! Why don’t you ask my therapist, I’m sure you guys will have a lot in common on that topic. 

I’m sorry to the fictional Gretta, it’s not your fault for being curious. I’m curious about it myself, but at the end of the day, I’m just not there yet. 

Heading home, I grab a bottle of wine and some Thai food to go and head back to my cozy little abode. The rain had finally stopped for the night and I can walk leisurely. 

As I’m walking onto my block I hear a small voice say something towards me, but I can’t quite make it out. I look over my shoulder and see a familiar face. Now, I’d love to tell you I remember her name but it escapes me; however, I do see this woman around very often.

The very first time I spoke with her, I was walking home from work, headphones in and sunglasses on just releasing the stress of the day with some Vanessa Carlton in my ears. A small elderly woman puts her hand out and stops me, I remove my head phone and she says, “You look so cool. I know you may not feel that way, but you do”. 

Be still my freaking heart, ARE YOU JOKING? That was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to me.

Ever since, I see her pretty often walking down our block with the same pizza box in her hand. The one two blocks down, with the best slice on the UWS. It’s called Freddie and Peppers, and I also frequent there when I’m in the mood for a good slice.

I can never tell if she actually remembers me, because when we do talk it’s always the same kind of conversation but I’m never bothered by that. I find her very endearing and I like to think she enjoys a nice little chat with a stranger. 

Today, I ask her about her pizza and asked if she got her usual. She’s told me before, she gets the veggie slice because its the easiest way for her to get her vegetables in… that melts my heart just the same now as it did when she first told me months ago. She replies with a nod and asks me if I wanna see what it looks like, of course, I say “oh my god, please!”, I know it makes her happy to have someone be interested in her little moments. 

It makes us all happy to have someone interested in our little moments, that’s half the fun of life, and I hope that maybe one day if I find myself older and alone with a pizza slice, that someone cares enough to ask me about it.

With that, I bid her a goodnight and headed upstairs to get myself situated with dinner and a glass of wine. It was in this moment that I realized, New York just reminded me in the span of 3 hours, exactly why I moved here and how special my life has become. 

Okay change of scenery, I see you. 

It was during all of this today, and maybe everything over the last 9 years of my life, that led me to write to you.

Life is messy, dreadful, beautiful, abundant and everything in between. As much as I’d like to tell you that my life is as glamorous as the aesthetically pleasing photos on my instagram or the diamond jewelry in my ears – it isn’t.

I try everyday to be the best version of myself, the version you all get to enjoy at over cocktails, at work or at dinner but the reality is, behind closed doors it can get a little messy and even a little sad – dare I say, human. 

Coming into this year of my life – my goal and promise to myself, and to you, is to be more transparent and authentic. Some nights are glamorous and I live for the magic of those moments, but some come with a lot of thoughts and feelings that aren’t as pretty.

If I’m sharing one, I will share the other, it’s only fair.

So cheers to the end of my ever confusing and ever evolving twenties and to the beginning of a decade that feels more genuine.

Always, Autumn.