My friend is from California, and while she may have had San Francisco at her beck and call, I had Astor Place, the village, soho, and all the cool places in between. Starting at the age of 12, my parents put me on a train to NYC with a friend, for a weekend day, pretty much whenever I asked. And let me tell you, this was a great alternative to the Galleria Mall! Looking back, it wasn't such a big deal......we agreed what train I would take home, and the other stipulation was that I was NOT allowed to take the subway (we are talking 1982/1983 when the subway was not what it is today). Other than that, there were really no rules or regulations to my visits.
So, I collected the money I earned from working at the library, hopped on a train with a friend, and usually spent the day in the village. Destination was 8th street and below, Antique Boutique, and all the stores down Broadway. We always walked through Washington Square Park, and were ALWAYS approached by drug dealers wanting to sell pot to us. Vintage clothes, army/navy clothes, Madonna style clothes, anything neon, this was my goal! At the end of the day, I hopped on my train, right when I was supposed to, and came home safely....my Mom usually picked me up at the train station. And this was how I rolled, a young suburban teen in the 80's-- my parents gave me loads of freedom and I always arrived home safely. Everything was all good until the time, in 1985, I visited the village with my then boyfriend, who was 18 at the time. He was from Michigan and had never been to the city. Well, I was the expert, so I HAD to show him around, right? I am certain my sister was also with me. Same drill, Metro North train into the city, go down to 8th street and do my thing. This time, however, I decided I MUST GET MY HAIR CUT AT ASTOR PLACE. Boyfriend went first, got a good cut, a little edgy 80's but he was preppy at heart. My sister got a female version of flock of sea gulls. I then sat in my chair, and asked for the style du jour, Long on the top, and a little shaved underneath (I know most of you know EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT). Here is an image of what I had in my mind
There was CLEARLY a miscommunication between Mr. Astor and I because this very sassy short hair cut is not at all what I came home with. The best way I can describe it, because I don't have a photo here (although I know one exists, and I am wearing my sweet Benetton Cabbage Rose sweater in pale yellow), is someone put a small salad bowl on top of my hair, and took an electric shear, and buzzed cut around the bowl. Was my hair long on top? Yes. Was it short on the bottom? Yes. Did it look like that photo? NOOOOOO. This was a radical change because prior to this cut, I had long hair. Another adventure I had on this particular day was a trip to get a triple pierce in my left ear. My ears were pierced when I was born, and I got a double pierce, condoned by my Mom in 7th grade, but now it's 9th grade, and I was ready for my third! It was this day, in 1985, when my Mom said goodbye to her long blond haired youngest daughter.
I knew I looked different and was DREADING showing my mom what I did. I knew she would have a heart attack, I would get AIDS from the shaver or the ear piercing for sure. The entire train ride home, I was thinking how I was going to avoid being trapped in the car with my Mom while she scolded me on my choices.
My grand plan was put into place: get off train, huddle behind boyfriend and sister, get in car behind the driver's seat, and be safe from Mom's wrath until I got home (where I would run upstairs and stay until my hair grew back long enough to cover my ear pierce, right?).....But my sister betrayed me. During her phone call to tell my Mom what train we were on, she told my Mom what I did, so the second I sat behind her, she said, "YOU CAN'T HIDE MICHELLE, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!!".
Needless to say, I survived the day, my hair grew back, but not before I was given the nickname Q-Tip by my sister and friends. This nicknamed stuck for a few months, and thankfully went away after my hair grew to a more desirable length. I listen to A TRIBE CALLED QUEST as I write this, and always laugh when I hear the line, "Q-tip is my title.....I don't think that is vital...." Seriously, I laugh and think about my Q-tip hair do EVERY time I hear "Push it Along".
This brings me back to yesterday, on the ride home, I shared this story with my friend. The thought that I was put on a train at the age of 12 astounded us, although at the time, I was more than prepared to be let loose in NYC for the day. Do I think I would allow my own children to do the same when they are 12? Right now I would say No, and it saddens me to say that. Do we live in a different world now, yes, but I actually feel NYC is far safer now than in 1982-1985 (and I am right, i just checked the NYPD statistics, and there were more than double violent crimes per every 100,000 residents in 1985 vs 2007). I sometimes wonder why we don't trust our children more and give them the Independence that we had when we were children. It's a very odd phenomena to me, and I constantly evaluate this issue as my children grow older.
One final note: I was so inspired by SoHo yesterday, I was dying to take my kids there today, take them to Evolution and Kidrobot, so they could see what I saw. I told my friend and she said she was plotting the exact same thing! But, of course, as I said, yesterday was a luxury....today I had to pick my dog up a the vet, take a child to the Dr......etc, etc, etc......
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2 comments:
I went to all of those places too, but unfortunately I went during the week! Stuyvesant's location was too tempting for me! Jealous that your parents didn't let you take the subway. I HAD to take the subway alone starting at around age 9 or 10 occasionally and then every day starting at age 12. My daughter is 8 and I would never let her take the subway alone now. I can't even imagine when I would let her. For sure I'd let her take the T into Boston in a few years!! Go Sawks (sox)!
I hope the Sox was a joke, or are you finally drinking the kool aid?
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