The Arrival
It started with a 6 AM United Airlines flight and an obnoxious TSA line that made absolutely no sense (aside from overhearing a woman that’s vintage chic, referring to me) —mostly because I hadn’t had coffee yet.
I’m always early to the airport, but somehow the TSA chaos had me cutting it close, so I headed straight to the gate and rolled the dice on a randomly assigned seat. I lost.
Middle seat.
Two snoring businessmen.
Crying baby behind me.
Flying in and out of Orlando is always an experience—kids either crying with excitement for Disney or crying because they have to leave it.
I landed in Newark slightly disoriented but caffeinated enough (thanks to a much-needed Starbucks latte) to find my friend—pregnant, glowing, and living a whole new chapter of life.
We spent the day working side by side, pretending we were back in those Gelman Library chairs at George Washington University, writing midterms and having no idea what was ahead of us.
The Place That Inspired the Search
New York has always inspired me—but this time, it hit differently.
Saturday started with one mission: vintage.
But first, food. Always food.
I got off at Penn Station determined to find a true New York bagel…only to realize everything felt different. For a second, I didn’t know where I was—New York felt like DC, and I felt completely out of place.
So I reset.
Smoked salmon, cream cheese, everything brioche, espresso at Daily Provisions at "Manhattan West".
Back to center.
On my way to the subway for Industry City, I saw a line—so of course I asked what it was for. Because if you’ve learned anything, it’s that lines in New York matter.
It was an Alexander McQueen sample sale.
Obviously, I stayed.
No phones. No photos. Just racks and racks of beauty. I left with one piece for me—and more importantly, pieces for my customers. Intentional sourcing. Always.
Then came the chaos of the subway—wrong train, express reroute, stranded at Chambers Street, no trains running where I needed, Lyfts priced like private jets.
So I walked.
A Memory From Another Life
I ended up at One World Trade Center—a place that always feels sacred.
Especially our current political climate.
Especially remembering being there with my dad not long before he passed.
And then I walked into the Oculus.
Pure magic.
Modern, bright, alive—and suddenly I wasn’t just in New York anymore.
I was back in another life.
Upper West Side days.
Trips to Montreal.
Moments in Paris.
Why? Because I was standing outside Épicerie Boulud, remembering the macaroons, I fully convinced myself—for a brief moment—that I was French.
That’s the thing about sourcing.
You’re never just where you are.
You’re everywhere you’ve been.
The Piece That Found Me
This trip wasn’t just about one item—it was about evolution.
From sample sale finds to vintage shops to stores that upcycle, organized by color instead of size (which honestly felt like the truest form of styling intuition).
Because here’s the truth:
You are not your size.
Clothes are not consistent.
Style is about instinct.
I picked up vintage Levi’s for a friend, pieces for my customers, and inspiration everywhere I looked.
But the most meaningful “find” wasn’t something I bought.
It was reconnecting—with friends, with past versions of myself, and with how much my style has shifted.
There was a time when Fifth Avenue would have been the priority.
Now?
Brooklyn vintage markets.
Sample sales.
Deadstock.
Preloved with a story.
That’s the shift.
Bringing It Home
I didn’t make it to everything.
I missed A Current Affair.
I didn’t get to Connecticut.
My body forced me to slow down.
But maybe that’s part of sourcing too.
Knowing when to pause.
Knowing that not everything is meant to be found in one trip.
I still had:
Dinner with friends who feel like home.
A surreal visit to a leather warehouse in the Garment District.
Solo meals in Little Italy discovering pieces of my own heritage.
Walks through SoHo where vintage is no longer hidden—it’s celebrated.
And one final realization:
This was my first trip to New York where I never went above 35th street.
After nearly a decade living on the Upper West Side.
That says everything.
Because the best pieces are never just found — they’re remembered.