#1 Adjacent to Woo Adjacent
Exploring past lives (but not in a Shirley Maclaine way)
I was going to title this one Past Lives but it sounded very woo.
One of my newsletter-writing heroes, Laura Belgray, claims to be woo-adjacent. I’m not sure if I’m even woo-adjacent. I’m more like adjacent to woo adjacent? I write a weekly newsletter for an SEO expert who has wandered so far off the reservation lately with crystal bio mats, angels, channeling, higher-power stuff and akashic records he’s gone full “woo.” Not that I’m knocking it? I’m just a nice Jewish girl from Brooklyn and at this stage of the game a lot of that stuff still sounds like it’s out where the busses don’t run.
That being said, as I strolled through (and rode a Citibike through) my hometown of NYC these last two weeks, I thought of the past lives I have lived--the younger me, who went for ice cream with my dad at Howard Johnson, got asymmetrical haircuts on Astor Place, danced at discos in the ‘80s, skateboarded in Central Park in the ‘70s.
Riding around the last few days, I felt amazed, as I always do, by the proportion of the buildings and the striking drama and beauty of the skyline. I loved the glimpses of small random moments that I caught: a man walking with a watering can, a woman walking with a bald mannequin head, the little girls waving to Rita and Rita waving back as she waited in front of my Mom’s building so we could grab a catch up hello and omelet at Le Pain Quotidien.
Anyone who has ever lived in New York City shares the feeling that the back pages of their lives are told here by the streets, parks, off-Broadway theatre houses, and bodegas. The nooks and crannies of the city that tell you the stories of your life every time you walk by, smiling as it all unfolds, seemingly just for you. The Three Brother’s Diner we tried to wash our hangovers away in on the Upper East Side, the no-nonsense jewelry supply stores in the diamond district I frequented for a decade or so, the twirling bears at the Central Park Zoo, oh and these two places.
The first one is Jue Lan Club. But what is it to me, (and anyone of my generation)? The Limelight! Opened in the mid ‘80s, this was a disco hotspot. But it wasn't until the '90s, when the club opened Rock and Roll Church and became a mecca for A-List celebs and club-kid superstars, that the Limelight exploded as a total scene.
Daniela Kirsch wrote about the scene in its heyday in the Patch. As house photographer for Peter Gatien's four iconic clubs, Steve Eichner had a ringside seat for all the action.
I was always looking for the best party, and going to parties in a church was always the irony of Limelight. The club designers restored and backlit the giant stained glass windows depicting biblical scenes, so it looked like sunlight was pouring through them. They were a constant reminder that we were desecrating a holy place.
I was amazed at the posh outdoor café that exists there now in the Limelight’s latest incarnation, Jue Lan Club. It sounds like a book club book. We chatted up the nice maître-d who gave us a take away menu to keep. Definitely not cheap, but incredible atmosphere, and according to him, some of the best Chinese food in the city. We could see a private party gathered for cocktails on a warm spring city night. Craft cocktails, appetizers, tony millennials drinking up. Times have changed from the days of club kids raving in the Shampoo Room in the Limelight circa 1991.
I grew up in Queens and Brooklyn, and then when I was nine we moved to Hastings-on-Hudson, a river town which is a 35-minute train ride—a commute my parents took every day. I wrote about Divorce through the Viewmaster for a Christmas contest in Inspired Writer on Medium and my piece was chosen as an editor’s pick. It’s a fun little read, you can check it out here.
It's incredible how the city gives all of us the gift of these incredibly personal landmarks. Some bring a smile, some make you laugh out loud, and some make you feel aallll the feels.
The city belongs to me in a way that no other city ever could, or would. The sight of Central Park in October, the industrial/concrete/iron/human smell of the subway, the East River midtown where as a little kid I gazed, amazed at the incredible ships that rode up the river celebrating the Bicentennial, July 4th, 1976 underneath an incredible fireworks display…Madison Square Garden where I had my first blind date at a Ranger’s game with a guy I ended up moving across the country with…these things are part of my 3-D tripping through time customized memory book that I would not trade for anything.
One of the most amazing qualities about New York is that some places are new, (lovely Little Island Park on the Hudson River at 14th Street) and you can create new memories there, while others are indelibly marked—dog-eared in your back pages.
Driving by the art deco Chanin building on Lexington and 42nd where my dad worked gives me a pang. An even more bittersweet pang is the sensation I get when I walk by NYU Medical Center on 33rd and 1st where my dad died. I pass by the deli where my dad had ordered me to get him a diet Dr. Brown’s celery soda because that was apparently the thing he was craving when he was sick. And just like that, as I was turning 30, my dad died and a chapter of my life ended.
The next stage of my life began at the top floor of this building
where I got married in 1997. It’s a loft where commercials are filmed, ad campaigns are shot, and people get gussied up in tux’s and Vera Wang gowns, dance to Into the Mystic and profess their love to each other in front of 125 of their inner circle.
As I rode my Citibike by, I looked at the top floor loft feeling all the feels. And not just the hurt, anger, and resentment of a marriage gone sour, but a feeling of gratitude. I did have the big wedding. I did wear that killer Vera Wang dress very well! I did marry for the right reasons; I loved the guy, and we had our own adventure, including the chance for me to be mother to two very special humans. It is what it is. This place still stands—it may or may not have significance for other people, or they may walk on by and think it’s a fairly unremarkable building.
There’s a reason this town gets under people’s skin, becomes a part of their heart, soul, their guts. My past lives have built up like so many layers of graffiti that get painted over, but they’re there, cumulatively, comprising the person I am today. There is no other place like this city. If you grew up here and got to see New York in the funky ‘70s, the punky ‘80s, and the shoulder-padded ‘90s, you are a lucky so and so.
In this f’d up pandemic I did not get to see enough of my people and places, so now I am going to ride my bike down to Battery Park City and I’m having drinks with my best friends, seeing my family, my favorite cousins, checking out Little Island Park and the Whitney, soaking up bike rides in Central Park, and strolls through the village. In the words of my childhood crush, Billy Joel:
I know what I'm needing
And I don't want to waste more time
I'm in a New York state of mind
Rebecca
P.S. I know you signed up for this newsletter for SEO tips, deep thoughts, rants, and Medium tips, but this week was a Trip Tik from the heart--I hope you enjoyed it.
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I absolutely appreciate each and every one of you who has signed on, and I thank you for joining the Mojo Writer tribe! I’ll be back June 27th. Write on.