I never envisioned going to galleries as part of my NYC existence. There was one night in Paris when Anna, my AirBNB host, and I walked around the Marais and into a gallery opening.
But NYC? How would that factor into anything I was doing?
And yet there I was tonight with Rafael. Four…five exhibits? Just running around the LES looking at art and having opinions about things.
The last gallery had a big to do. I scanned the crowd from outside and said my thought out loud, “I don’t know if they’ll let us in. We’re not wearing beanies.”
Half the crowd were in beanies. And I said this as a woman in a colorful beanie walked out. Rafael assured me that she laughed at what I said.
Oh and Penn Badgley was walking out as we were walking in. It’s like I traded places with Nikola for the night. When I mentioned it to him he said, predictably, that he used to see Penn around when he lived in the East Village.
Then onto bars. 169 to meet Joyce, who’s in town, and then something with Flowers in the title. The wait was 25 minutes so we drank outside and there was Penn again, outside the bar.
There are times when I wonder if someone will pop out of the crowd, say something like, “Ma’am, would you come with us,” and then escort me to some regional airport to export me from the greater tristate area. I’m an imposter.
Only I’m not.
Rafael spotted the artist at one of the galleries. He loves her work and follows her on the social medias. She followed him back last week and he was so excited. I asked him if he wanted to talk to her and he said no! So I sidled up to her and fan girled about her use of bleach on dye. That it was like sculpting…removing instead of adding. Because I stood nose to canvas and studied her work to figure out the process. She asked if we were artists and you know what I said? Yes.
No one escorted me out of NYC tonight.
And my red lipstick was FLAWLESS. It’s like 2018 all over again.