Category Archives: people watching

I see all sorts walking these city streets and riding the subway. Sometimes I take pictures or write about them.

On Mr. Cunningham

On our way to the parade my friend Ariel mentioned that she hoped to see Bill Cunningham.  I didn’t know who this was, and she gave me a brief overview.  As soon as we reached 57th street, there he was! Taking our picture, many many times.

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I knew how much it meant to her, so I took a few snaps with my camera and my iPhone, this is my favorite one:

bill cThe next day Jason and I watched his documentary and now I am about as thrilled as Ariel was! I am SO GLAD I got his pic.  He is a New York Icon–living legend this man.  Go watch the film.

 

Moment

She passed me on the street pushing a double stroller full of newborn baby boys. She had beautiful hair and skinny leggings-clad legs sticking out of her puffy coat.  She walked faster than me, she must feel so light without sharing her body anymore.

I thought about how much work 2 would be and that she would lose a lot of that beautiful hair in a few months. She walked briskly past me and in a block I saw her stop and kiss a man, who I presumed to be her husband.

I passed them as they stopped to look at their sons. I looked back for one more glimpse. He pointed to the baby in front and asked: “That’s Clyde right?” She replied: “Clyde, yeah,” and then they were out of earshot. That’s how new they were, Dad didn’t even recognize his own life yet.

People Watching: What MUST that girl be thinking?

In an effort to be more interactive, what do you think that girl watching Lolly is thinking? If you could add a thought bubble, what would it say?

People Watching: Twins

There are so many times on the streets I find pairs or small groups of people hanging out, wearing almost the exact same outfit.  The vibe will be very similar and sometimes even the elements of the outfit are identical.  I think humans take comfort in blending in.

The other day on the street I walked a ways with two girls who I thought went through the same exact routine that day. They had perfectly pedicured, bright-colored toes, sandals with the same design, their color scheme was identical and the proportions of their outfits as well. They each had long hair with little bobbypins here and here to pull back a little bit of hair, a large handbag on their elbow, Starbucks in one hand and smartphone in the other.

They were SO BUSY reading their phones that they didn’t even realize how similar they looked. At first I though they knew each other, proving my above theory/observation, but they didn’t.

People Watching: Dreadlock

I have never seen a dreadlock situation quite so humongous.  It reminded me of a huge chewed up tootsie roll or something else, less candy-like.

I imagined it was probably quite a heavy load to carry around and there might be hidden objects to be found and that perhaps it smelled, but I didn’t get close enough to see if I was right about any of those things.  Is there hair in their from the 1960′s? How long did it take to become that piece of hair art?

Dreads always make me wonder how the scalp feels and if it ever feels clean and fresh. I will never know, because I think I can safely say, I will never have dreadlocks.

People Watching: My People

I love when I see a fellow fiber artist riding the subway.  In 2010 I would approach them and tell them about the Lovescarf project.  I didn’t get anyone to follow through, so I stopped accosting people.  It does bring me joy to see someone working on a project.

I wish this subway knitters group I joined on ravelry was a little more organized.  I want to check out the podcasts.  Do you think they know about worldwide knit in public day? Do you think it still counts if I crochet?

People Watching

People Watching: Mismatched

I sat across from them for several stops.  The nature of their relationship became clear right away, they were obviously a married couple.

Listen, I’m not gonna lie, when I was looking for a spouse, one of my prerequisites was that he be taller and bigger than me.  More specifically, that my butt would not be much larger than his at any given time (pregnancy, other).  That has since gone you know where in a hand basket since Jason has wasted away to a non-existent backside, and mine has just stayed big.  I digress.  Despite my personal vain standards, I support couples of any body size.

This particular couple though just got me. I kept staring at them and admiring how they each found comfort enough to be together for a very long time (I hope!).  Please don’t nonquestion me on formspring, I know I should never judge anyone for how they look or pair together, this is not a judgment on them, but on me.  13 years ago, I was too shallow to marry someone smaller than myself.  I feel more confident now, but it is already done, so I can’t say if I could do it today.

People Watching: Feisty

I sat down to lunch the other day and in walked a woman who is unforgettable.  Last year, we happened upon each other in the subway and she basically demanded that I help her navigate the stairs.  I always help a blind person when they ask or just seem to need help.    She was very dominating, telling me exactly where to put my arm, how fast or slow to walk, bossing me the entire time.  It was awesome.

I decided that if I were blind, I would be the same way.

This was my second sighting of her.  The manager of the restaurant walked her back to a table and she ordered the manager to read her the soup menu.

“But, I don’t eat any red soups, or red meat.”

The manager began reading the list and she would interrupt after almost every one:

“That’s too spicy.”

“But that’s red….it has red meat.”

“Oh, and I don’t do bacon either.”

After setting such parameters, the list became quite short, and she asked: “That’s it?”

She then asked for 5 different samples. The manager gladly obliged, ladling her the samples and bringing them back to the table for her to try.  When the manager stepped away I observed my feisty blind friend more closely.  I noticed that she had beautifully painted red nails and jewelry on her wrists and fingers.  Of course it got me thinking about how this adds to her identity even though she can’t see it.

I paint my face, costume my frame and adorn my appendages every day, and I don’t see it either, only if I pay attention to my reflection if I happen to pass a mirror.  Why shouldn’t she do the same thing?

Of course I started wondering about her story. Had she always been blind?  Does she always come to this restaurant?  It was nowhere near the last time I saw her.  Would it be easier to be blind in a city or the suburbs or somewhere else?  I considered going over and sitting with her to have lunch.  I wondered what she would picture when she heard my voice. Would she know how old I was?  Would she remember me from that brief encounter months ago?  I was short on time, so I just smiled and watched her and took her picture. I made sure I got the red nails.

People Watching: Sleepy

Confession: I wanted to trade places with her so badly.

Confession: I didn’t want to trade places with her for anything.

How can you feel two things so strongly at the same time?

Will that ever go away? The longing, then…the sigh of relief?