I get knocked down, but I get up again

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Last week I was running to catch the train. It was just starting to snow, and I was hoping to get home before things really picked up. The doors were closing and a man stuck his hand out to hold them open for me—how nice of him.

Two steps to go before I would be safely inside and I slipped in the kind of way you see cartoon animals slip on banana peels. I slipped and fell hard on my back. I lay for what felt like two minutes but was probably closer to two seconds before realizing my right arm and leg was between the subway car and the platform, a dangerous place for which new New Yorkers are warned to stay away. I quickly, dizzily rolled my way over to the platform and slowly sat up.

“I think I hit my head,” I said to what I thought would be a crowd of strangers hurrying to lend a hand.

But no one seemed to notice except for the subway conductor who gave me a thumbs up before closing the doors for good. It scared me more than it hurt me, at least until the next day when my whole body ached from what I presume was a combination of whiplash and landing flat on the corner of the subway platform. But not one single person asked me if I was ok, not even when I was sobbing on the stairs for 22 minutes while I waited for the next Q train. Yeah, now you know why I was running to catch the previous one.

Here's my theory... because I refuse to believe everyone in this city is horrible. Maybe no one thought to comfort me  because I was wearing my black leather jacket. Girls in black leather jackets don’t usually look like they need help. Girls in black leather jackets always look cool and independent and effortless and they also probably don’t fall in public places. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I’m wearing my leather jacket.

I have always wanted a real leather jacket to keep forever and hopefully pass down to my future daughter. And I think this one is pretty perfect. I imagine it camouflaging all of my a-line dresses and and delicate blouses, just so everyone knows I mean business and don’t need your help. Except when I fall.

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[jacket-uo (similar), top-free people, jeans-zara, shoes-doc marten, necklace-madewell]

snowbank sweaters

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Winter clothes are my favorite, but only a select few (roommates, co-workers, since I am a full-time employee now!) have seen my elusive winter wardrobe as I am normally bundled up to my nose with scarves, masked with a long down coat and another scarf just to be safe. It took a while, but the romanticized dreams of a city dancing in snow has faded, and I'm pretty much ready for some warmer weather. Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful. But all good things must come to an end. Within 30 minutes of snowfall, blanketed sidewalks become slushy and grey, sprinkled with toxic chemicals to hasten melt time. While I wait for spring, I'm sticking to neutral-toned sweaters that match the blackened, road-stained snow banks that form on the sidewalks.

I haven't strayed much from the grey and black sweater, black jeans combo. It's just too damn cold to wear anything but pants and boots. I've made a uniform of sorts, and it cuts my getting-ready time in half.

For the record, New York is still kicking my ass, but I've definitely grown stronger with it. I'd say we're just about neck and neck. We're kind of like a "love-struck," dysfunctional high school relationship. I'm always running back to him because he's the hot shot quarterback, but he won't invite me to hang out with his friends yet because I'm just not cool enough. But he promises he loves me and buys me flowers when I think about ditching him and I take him back reluctantly only because he's hot.

So basically New York is John Tucker, the epitome of awful high school boyfriends. But who actually wins these battles? Brittany Snow does, and you, because you're probably not with your high school boyfriend anymore, and New York won't. Soon he'll drop the veil of deceit and cave to pressures of my hard-work and tears. So don't you worry, I'll whip him (New York, John Tucker?) into shape in due time, I've never been one to let someone else call the shots for long.

So I tried to talk fashion, I really did. And then my emotions invaded this precious space and I didn't even ask them and I can't really help it. I hope you guys don't mind. Thanks for listening.

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[sweater-zara, boots- doc martens]