Towning It, NYC-style

Attended my first ‘event’ in NYC. Yes, despite Chinese podcast renown, I’m not quite big enough yet in this town to rate invites to ‘events' (oh how I miss pseudo-stardom); I was invited along by another recent emigrant from Shanghai. At the last minute she couldn’t make it, but I decided, what the heck, I’ll go alone.

Grand. It seems on any given street at any given moment in this city, people are ‘eventing.’ I was just happy to be on the inside. Or I could even say, happy to be inside, as it was -10 degrees and falling, outside.

There is a real guest list. Fortunately I am armed with my friend’s name, which is Chinese, but apparently I look the part because they don’t question it. The 'are-you-posh-enough-to-enter' security measures seem quite strict. After six years as a western person in China, you take for granted your seeming ability to blend in due to the very fact that you stand out. Not so, here. Now I find I am just another slightly under-dressed member of the unnervingly tall crowd. Crowd viewing from the perch of my 5 foot 9 inch frame has taken on a decided upward angle.

On taking in this new scene, I find it reassuring to know that events in NYC have free drinks as well; especially considering the $9 glasses of wine that have done a good job of drying me out from my high-fluting Shanghai days. It’s a charity event; I’m glad I saved my booze budget to contribute to one of the little kids that need bus fare for field trips. Makes me feel a little less like an affluent white person at an event. Conscience-salve.

Events in NYC have people with last names hyphenated with things like ‘Scorsese.’ There are photographers. They’re photographing everyone but me!! I think I manage to get an ugly chewing-appetizer shot taken of myself, luckily; collateral damage in a photo of someone markedly better dressed. I knew I should have brought more clothing, less gift tea, on my exodus from China.

Working the room. I meet cool people. How is it that every single person in New York City has a cool job? I still don’t quite understand who staffs the Burger Kings, as I’ve never met anyone who isn’t an artist, designer, musician, opera-singer, curator, actor. Surely there must be a lot of job openings for street-sweepers; I make a mental note to apply. Times like these, having an ex-job that no one quite gets (ex-podcast star) is a real plus. You say it fast and they are afraid to question; perhaps it’s the next up-and-coming thing that they haven’t heard of. Or perhaps they hear it and relate it with the other ‘ex-‘P’ star’ profession. It seems to give me some credibility, anyway.

Scanning the room, I do, indeed, find a lot of handsome specimens of the male variety. This is something new for a Shanghai gal… nice. Chatting easily with some hotties, I find myself increasingly yet secretly perplexed: extremely well-dressed? very in touch with their feminine side? gay? Yes, I can tell a Shanghainese person from a Taiwanese, but it seems that my gaydar has completely gone awry. So many beautiful men… so not sure what team. Just when I’m sure, I’m not. Gorgeous staring from across the room… suddenly lays a hand flirtatiously on Beautiful next to him. Flamboyant… after what feels like girl talk, asks for my number. The mystery deepens. I give it, the number, of course, with the singular reason of the opportunity for future observational studies… well that, and the off-chance that maybe he’s just a really good dresser? ;)