In memoriam: Dollar Pizza Place Down the Street

RIP Dollar Pizza Place Down the Street #nofilter

RIP Dollar Pizza Place Down the Street #nofilter

It all started when Dollar Pizza Place Down the Street suddenly closed.

It was a Tuesday night and I was ordering two slices of plain to go, digging out the quarters from the bottom of my wallet whilst nodding my head sympathetically as Pizza Guy behind the counter told me how his wife’s back was still troubling her. The fluorescent lights in the teeny tiny take-out restaurant blinked maybe more than they should have and I doubt Pizza Guy could even hear my vague yes-I’m-still-listening mmhmms over the buzz of the ENORMOUS refrigerator rattling in the corner, but I was enveloped by the aroma of possibly fake, impossibly delicious cheese and by the warm knowledge that this man, this slightly balding discount pizza connoisseur with crinkly eyes and a wife whose back was still troubling her, was the only person who had consistently been there for me since I first moved to the city, doling out happiness for the mere price of 99 cents a slice. I found peace in knowing that at least I would never starve so long as I had him as my ally.

And then, two nights later – TWO NIGHTS LATER — looking to bury my burdens under a mound of grease and cheese, I made the two-block jaunt to Dollar Pizza Place Down the Street only to find out it was CLOSED. For good. Completely shuttered. Game over. The gate was down across the door. The warm light that once served as a beacon for the drunk and the hungry was out, the red awning gone. Pizza Guy had packed up and left without even the tiniest hint of a goodbye. Zero warning. Total devastation. You think you know a person, I thought. You FINALLY LET YOUR GUARD DOWN, I thought. And then all these memories I forgot I ever had came flooding back: the way PG would wink at me on Saturday nights when I asked for two sets of utensils to make it seem like I wasn’t about to eat 4 pieces of pepperoni by myself. The time I had to explain to him I wasn’t dead, I had just been at home visiting my parents for six days. Dollar Pizza Place Down the Street was my lifeline, my provider, and now it was gone. I had no one. Hangry and hopeless, I felt the sadness settle over me, sticky and unshakable, as that one line from that one Robert Frost poem I was forced to memorize in high school foggily crept to mind: “So dawn goes down to day / Nothing gold can stay.” I had been abandoned. I was alone.

…….

When I’m hungry I get a little melodramatic ok?

Look, I have a point. Life’s a doozy and even the tiniest of upsets can suddenly send you spiraling toward the darkest, most shadowy recesses of your mind that you didn’t even know existed. I’m not saying that the great Dollar Pizza Disaster of ’14 is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but it did make me realize that I’ve been, well, stuck in something of a rut these last few months, dependent on routine and un-open to change because I couldn’t, in my head, imagine life looking any other way.

It’s like one of those allergy pill commercials where they show you a shot of a flower-dotted field under a blue sky and everything LOOKS normal and you might even think to yourself “wow, what a nice looking patch of grass” and then – THEN – some magical TV force peels away this previously invisible filmy filter to reveal that, no, that’s NOT just a nice looking patch of grass, it’s the most beautiful TV meadow you’ve ever seen, practically PULSING with color, as a voice explains to you “there’s clear, and then there’s Claritin clear.”

It’s time to rip off the film.

Anyway, wherever you are, Pizza Guy, I hope your wife’s back is feeling better.

Lolololol remember when I used to write about clothes and stuff?

Whatever. Pizza is ALWAYS in fashion.

Posted in New York City | Tagged | Leave a comment

Hot child in the city

It’s that time of year where I dramatically wipe my brow and say, “Have you ever even been this hot in your life??!” and then you say “Phew it’s a scorcher” and then we collectively try to remember if temperatures ever climbed higher than 95 degrees last summer (they did).

I figured I had three options today: I could melt. I could curl up in an air conditioned Zara somewhere or I could go to Starbucks and watch the city slump while I slurped iced beverages. My darling mamma, constantly monitoring my caffeine levels, surprised me with a *$’s card in the mail and seeing as how I’m practically living in poverty after handing over all my money to Rebecca Minkoff last weekend, my decision was pretty much made for me (noregretsmostamazingbagever).

YIKES have you ever even been this hot in your life?

Spent the 4th of July in a Brooklyn backyard that had just as many puppies as it did hipsters but honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I decided to celebrate the occasion by whipping out my favorite razor blade necklace. A friend told me it was very “emo chic” but please, have you ever seen an emo kid with such a standout neon belt? My friend Ryan opted for more traditional patriotism with his red, white and blue and did you know? He’s a top notch grill master. Just check out those shrimp skewers.

Beach escapes to the Hamptons, seashell hunts and human cattle herds around Prince Street. See? Summer isn’t so bad.

A trip to the High Line proved to be very handsy — and also impossibly crowded. I blame the amazing mango chili popsicles to be found every few feet. And the fantastic views of the city, though none as great as what you can find street-level. Some friends and I were romping around midtown last night when we stumbled across the Empire State Building and pleasantly remembered we live in New York City. It’s easy to forget sometimes.

The couture shows in Paris held my attention for a hot minute this week but then I realized it’s impossible to lust after clothing when your only sartorial goal is to have as little fabric touching your body as possible. But oh, that red coat dress with the pockets. Welcome to Dior, Mr. Simons.

 

Posted in New York City | Leave a comment

Words to live by: Elsa Schiaparelli

Photograph of Elsa Schiaparelli wearing a &quo...

One of these days, I’ll go to the Met Gala. Until then, I’ll sit at home and eat leftover pizza and teddy grahams and refresh Twitter every five seconds waiting for Rachel Zoe to post another twitpic.

Today I threw it out there that maybe last night’s red carpet wasn’t as amazing as it has been in years past (a side effect of hype, no doubt), and you all FREAKED OUT. But because I’m not about to gush about *gasp* gold sequins or 90s lipstick, I decided to focus on the one lady that actually piqued my interest: Elsa Schiaparelli.

Ok so I’m slightly embarrassed that I only knew her for that one lobster dress prior to “fashion prom” fever, but that’s more than most of the models partying down the street could say last night. Anyway, because I’m a serious investigative journalist I did a little poking around on the Internet and I found THIS AMAZING THING that Racked posted earlier. Not only was Elsa Schiaparelli “that Italian artist who makes clothes,” she was also the world’s smartest woman. Behold, her 12 commandments for women:

Continue reading

Posted in Words to live by | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about princesses

So I’ve been thinking a lot about princesses lately. As in, how to become one. In theory, this shouldn’t be that difficult. I’m practically a Royal Wedding expert — I was on that beat HARD last year — and if there’s anyone to turn to for princess lessons, it’s obviously Kate Middleton, who’s not so much a princess as she is the world’s most perfect person with a penchant for high street fashion and cocker spaniels.** And, lest we forget, her parents were merely millionaires trying to put their daughter through college when she cleverly used her girl-next-door charms to win over a man who just so happened to hit it big at the gene pool, premature balding aside, of course. Really, he’s the lucky one, right? Kate did all the work. So maybe the moral of this story is to go to school and play field hockey and wear nude pantyhose and shop at Zara and be your best self and eventually, someday, the man of your dreams will take notice and before you know it, bam, you’re a princess and everyone wins. If you know what you’re doing, how hard can it be?

Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Is this the cutest dog you’ve ever seen?

In the event that the last seven days of your life have been as messy and mind blowing as mine, I give you this. Somewhere, this fluffy brute not only actually exists, he’s been given the fitting title of “world’s cutest dog” (like seriously, it’s official). And then, because Urban Outfitters has been jonesing for some positive PR, they decided to jump on the adorable pomeranian bandwagon and bring us this incredible stuffed likeness.

Spent this rainy Sunday doing a little sole searching a la literally looking for shoes. I’m in desperate need of sensible black ballet flats but my last shopping trip resulted in a pair of sky-high wedges and pink (really pink) trousers. C’est la vie, no?

Posted in Things I want | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Be back in a GIF-fy

Sooooo remember when Coco Rocha and Jessica Stam wore fake nails and really bad weaves and pranced around in front of Steven Meisel for Vogue Italia and called it a “haute mess” and everyone else called it racist?

Well anyway, that’s old news. But the point is, before there were controversial photos, there were controversial GIFs. And in the spirit of controversial GIFs, I decided to make a few of them myself.

Here I am in Central Park with a really big stick that I later used to swipe hot dogs out of people’s hands (just kidding) (kind of).

Here I am COMING AT YOU:

 

And here I am hopping across the street without ever moving my legs:

 

Let’s drop any glamorous pretenses and just call this one a “hot mess.”

Ohh but don’t you like my purple jacket?

Posted in My outfits | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Caution: Spring cleaning work zone

Today, I tackled the beast. It was a six hour battle where victory was never certain. It was hard. It was scary. It was physically and emotionally draining.

Today, I cleaned out my closet.

As a general a rule I don’t believe in spring cleaning, mostly because I try to avoid anything that may require exertion on my end, which cleaning inevitably does. But then I realized it was taking me at least 20 minutes longer to get ready in the morning because I spent too much time digging around for dresses and tights and things I could have sworn I once possessed before it occurred to me my closet was actually a black hole and blah blah blah, I decided to straighten up. It was now or never.

It took me six hours, with several meltdowns and froyo breaks in between.

Continue reading

Posted in My outfits | Leave a comment