Monday I was sitting in Aida’s Cafe in Bed Stuy at Norstrand Ave. and Halsey St. working with some of the friendliest people. The owner is delightful and so are the other customers who have been calling me Miss St. Louis since they relized I wasn’t from here. And who said New Yorkers were mean? Such a malicious lie. Aside from some subway workers, everyone has been super nice to me … even if it’s dead obvious to every native New Yorker that I am not from here. Having “I’m Not From Here” tattooed somewhere on my person has been both good and bad, but so far good has won.
My press n’ curl, which NY’s heat happily murdered, has now been beautifully transformed into Sengelese twists by one of Brooklyn’s finest hair masters, Ms. Betty of Concepts Salon on Rogers Ave. and Maple. My friend Sabrina (and faithful Snob reader) took me on a tour of downtown Brooklyn and to the promanade. We went to a flea market. I found some gaw-geous earrings and nearly lost my bag of souveniers from Junior’s Restaurant.
Before that I had dinner at Junior’s with my friend Jada where I had the world’s greatest waiter, who could tell what I wanted just from a raise of my eyebrow. Jada was my ace the whole week, being my dinner date three times and going to a party with a ton of black accountants I was invited to.
Here are some final photos from my time in NYC.
More after the jump.