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.
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:
The 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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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?