I was on the phone to Suzy. She mentioned Joe Dispenza, who I’d never heard of. It’s my last day in NYC, I woke crazy early and after the call I pottered about for a bit, packing, then came down to the salon at 4am, as has been my habit this past week, with my bag of mushroom coffee where the night porter sorts me a pot of hot water. As the lift doors opened I heard the voice of a man talking about intention, and the importance of sending clear messages to the fabric of this universe. The night porter was listening, I asked him who it was, and he said, Oh, I don’t know, I just turned it on. A few minutes later, here I am by the fire, a pot of coffee, lap top open, and he walks over with a post it note. This is who it is. Hello Joe Dispenza. Hello listening fabric.
So, let’s figure this out from Sunday. Met David for a lovely early morning walk in Central Park. Sights (the Friends fountain!) and talking in sunny weekend weather; dogs and bikes and books and suddenly a field of pink t-shirts, breast cancer running. We looked out over lakes and green. He is the most generous spirit. Took a cab downtown to meet Adam for brunch (have you written it yet, Adam Nathan? 😬), eggs and tea and glorious deep dive into our worlds. We could have been in Paris. Parted on a street corner, I headed off to meet Matthew for lunch. Our place looked deserted, Should we worry we’re the only ones I hear? It used to be somewhere else, and better, a Japanese shoes off sit on the floor bowls of rice. But the truth is it didn’t matter. Our catch up mattered. My oldest friend. We are family.
We too, parted on a street corner, I headed off to Westbeth on a hunch sent by Margaret that it would be interesting. By chance it was open studio that day, and tours were happening around the factory turned largest artists community in the world. It houses over 700 residents in what was the HQ of Western Electric (which vacated in the 60’s to Jersey, a new building where Severance was filmed). A creative warren of industrial proportions, a vast and cavernous nest of creative feathers, everyone there lives and breathes the artistic life. I wanted to move in immediately.
Monday I walked up town to meet Peter for lunch. Last saw him in Scotland, and we updated over soup in the park. In homage to my mother, I went home via The Breuer Building
Note the cock-mobile parked bottom right next to the trash can. Jeez.
Tuesday dawned, the main event, the Empresses gathered. Kim, Alisa, Heather, Erinn, Shannon and Betsy. Me. We kept saying the whole night and into the next day, admitting out loud what we kept thinking, Look at these women! How did I get myself here?! It was a covenous spell of multiple proportions. It was power. We took a car to David’s, the night began, Debbie our gracious hostess, and she did the biscuits again and the napkins and Jason was there drawing cartoons. The room filled with us and us and us, new friends and old friends and connections weaving again and again. Kirsten and Kim took their seats beside David, he held the conversation as it flowed. I was listening too much, enjoying too hard to take photos, so this is all I got…
A celebration of Kimberly Warner in all her glory and the sea swell love for her memoir took us through fairytale and magic to the shores of witchery and belonging. Kirsten Miller injected fuel for the engine of our growth, and Kim carried us home.
It was a night of women which picked itself up again at breakfast where we gathered for frittata and coffee refills and Empress chat and each other. What a collection. Again, the thought, Kim and I laughing that we were both thinking it; how did I get here?
And then Times Square which was like a rollercoaster with your best friend in the mood you want to be in to thrill the full excitement of wind whistling glory. Me and Kim & Alisa, a cab uptown. New York in all her car horn shout. Crowds. Everywhere. Buildings soaring, glass reflecting and the billboards dancing for our eyes. The thrill of heads up and waiting. The countdown clock counting. And then suddenly, there it was.
Unfixed: A Memoir of Family, Mystery, and the Currents That Carry You Home on the big screen!!! The sea, the fathers, the book itself; holy moly. We laughed, we cried, they hugged - the starburst that is Alisa in the arms of the river of love that is Kim. It was the most glorious, enchanting moment. What an achievement. Over excitement doesn’t cover it.
Thank you, all you phenomenal friends who held me, the space, each other in this week which culminated in a billboard in Times Square. To mark all that has happened, I took myself off to Hidden Rose in the east village for a tattoo. It’s on my wrist, healing, so that I never forget the wild. There’s been an upgrade.
Eleanor
