New York City Here I Come!
Did I go by bus or train? I'm not really sure. In retrospect it had to be a bus, trains were more expensive. Does it really matter? I got to the East End Hotel for Women after being hired, as I was now living on my own I had no one to tell or answer to. Once again I blocked all implications, off I went. I had gotten the job as a receptionist in an exclusive salon in New York City, at Bergdorf Goodman. The interview was in the manager's office, she was noticeably a powerful blond woman. At the time I had deep auburn colored hair, I started dyeing it when I was 14, while I was tall and thin, she was tall with a striking middle aged powerful appearance, Miss Lanier. Probably in her 40’s. I was too full of myself to care or notice much else about her or care. 40s was old then, I wanted to leave Rochester and I got the job. My boss in the salon in Rochester said I had to get out and away from my notoriety after David left. I knew this was a truth, an inevitable escape.
My destiny was written and I had to hold on and let go. Self caring, awareness and anxiety would come later. I was about to explore one of the largest cities in the world. My wide eyed presence was almost country girl in a style of naïve exuberance. Any details were unexplored, setting into my new life. I was guided to my room at the Hotel blindly. The door opened and closed behind me. The East End Hotel for Women. The window in front of me was open and the heat poured into the room. There was no air-conditioning. It was the beginning of July. I cried as I sat on the smallest of beds I could imagine. Maybe the size of a Girl Scout cot. The room was so small, I could touch the dresser as I sat on the bed and I could barely turn around. It was to become my college of living in New York City. In college I would have had friends and parties and guidance and classes to set me on my way. I had to create my own life in the blaring heat of New York. Miss Lanier was to direct me in a sophisticated aloofness. I wanted a mother. She was not going to supply that. There I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands over my face beginning to cry uncontrollably. My bathroom was down the hall and I felt trapped. A feeling I had to discount and the need to run. If I could, I would have, I couldn’t. Not yet, I had to muster my intrepid courageous self and go to the home office, or to my boss, and whoever would listen to my trying to create the standard I was used to or I liked to think I was.
Horns and sirens blaring I could barely sleep but I was not going to be defeated . Rochester had become an unsafe place and I was bound to show my fashion conscious self to the world of this overpowering city.
Sleep had to be conquered, it was a long time friend and escape, I knew. I had to get up in the morning to make a statement when I walked into the salon. I was my own version of Twiggy and my makeup alone took at least an hour. I had taken a razor to my very curly hair and cut it as short as possible. Everything for me was about feeling and letting my wishes propel me.
