love/hate NYC...or blogging at 2am

Every time I am in New York City I am always overcome with so many mixed emotions. Frank jealousy is usually one of the first to bubble up, mixed with a humbling adoration for the gorgeous bits of creative genius tucked in around every corner, plastered on any random wall, or most humbling of all, walking by you. By that I don't mean celebrity siting, that's not really my thing, more the random artist/writers/musicians that seem to be everywhere. The beauty of the sweet little boutiques filled with dresses that are nothing less than works of art, the subway tile at The Liquor Bar, breathtaking street art pasted to a crumbling wall, and the effortless eclectic style of the 20 something New York hipster are all things that fill me with a sense of awe, desire and lust. The creative force in NYC is undeniable.

But creating is a blessing and a curse. New York is full of creations, every where you look there is more to buy. For a person trying to shrink her ecological footprint by making better consumer choices, the sheer magnitude of non-green items can be overwhelming and a little spirit crushing. Shop after shop we went into, drawn by the gorgeous designs, but let down that the items we craved were not green.

Please, don't get me wrong. There were green purchases to be found, and had we carefully planned and researched where every green store in Manhattan was, we would probably have had better luck. But this was a casual fun weekend, not so planned out, and the casual sampling of stores did not yield a ton of results. Yes, I guess I was pouting like a baby being in the middle of stores who's aesthetics I loved, but had nothing green to offer me. And, yes, I had guilty pangs of jealousy watching a friend I was with fill her shopping bags with items I probably would have purchased in December before making my sustainable clothing resolution.

I was a little mopey by Sunday morning, when I found some awesome retail therapy in vintage clothing and original pieces from reclaimed materials at Hairy Mary's... which I will detail at length in the next blog because the store was so great it deserves more consideration and lovin then my bleary-eyed, exhausted self can give it at the moment. It's now 3:30 am and my insomnia is sure to bite me in the ass in the morning. I am also a little afraid to see what this rambling looks like with less groggy eyes and a cup of coffee.