swept away

Been awhile... the hubub of spring and warmer temperatures has engulfed me and the city in a fog of busy-ness. Not to mention working a lot, but that's another story itself.

Shedding our shrouds of dark wool and down, the true seasonality of New York is fun. Spring is like waking from hibernation. We lose the leggings and stockings and find hems creeping and shoulders bare. Boots give way to the strappy sandal of the moment and the plumage of bright fabrics and patterns emerge. We dive deep into spring fever in a matter of a week or two when the temperature breaks.

Spring fever... it's everywhere. Eyes in the subway, glances over happy hour drinks, walking arm in arm beneath the street trees. The East Coast is a little more traditional in relation to the genders- men will more openly check women out here, and if you find yourself in a more working-class neighborhood, a girl on her own or among other ladies is likely to be addressed in terms relating to her appearance, in coos or whistles if not shouts. Doors are held. Older men smile at you as if to say, "oh, if I was younger..."

I found myself in Spanish Harlem yesterday on my way to the Museum of New York City and it was like being in a stereotype of NYC from another era- thick with people socializing on the streets; men in groups on the corners almost territorially; conversations sitting on the stoops; and people shouting from the fifth floor windows down to their neighbors across the street; all happening on a per-block basis. Of course I was addressed and watched, but it made me smile.

Feminist that I am, and coming from the more gender-neutral, Scandinavian-esque northwest, I notice this more than some might. But I love it. I won't say I've not been caught up in the spring fever the past couple months. It's fun.