Last Day of Summer

I like to spend my Sunday afternoons napping and writing, but last Sunday I got a little off track. You can thank my mom, she sent me a digital camera.

Overhead View from the South Ferry to Governor's Island


NYC Waterfall at Governor's Island


Governor's Island


No Cars - Only Biking and Walking on the Island


I don't want to call them picnickers (because the word picnic bothers me)
so I'll just call them "New Yorkers enjoying an outdoor meal"



The Statue of Liberty from Governor's Island

♥ J'aime Bianca

Never Forget

During last semester, in a cognitive psychology course, I learned about the concept of "flashbulb memories." Flashbulb memories are "memories of emotionally charged or especially memorable events that have been claimed to be particularly vivid and accurate." It has been debated that flashbulb memories become less and less accurate and vivid with time; however, when it comes to the catastrophic events that occurred on September 11th, it seems almost impossible to forget.

I remember exactly where I was when I heard the first plane hit the South Tower. I should have been up getting ready to go to school, but I was in bed trying to ignore my mother who was making a fuss in the den. I was positive she was coming to wake me up again, but instead, she ran into the room and told me that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. Still groggy I replied, "It's probably the Russians." When I finally got up, I sat in front of the television in complete shock. Peter Jennings was covering the breaking news. During his report, he paused to allow another correspondent to speak about what was happening on the scene, then suddenly, the second plane hit the North Tower. In my life, on that day, it was a life changing news report; I went to school, I came home, and I continued to watch this story unfold from 3,000 miles away. But for many New Yorkers it wasn't a news report, it was real life.

Now that I am a New Yorker, I felt obliged - to the city and to those who passed away on that fateful day - to pay my respects at Ground Zero. I visited the site two days prior to September 11th, and I noticed that the city had a different tone than usual. Volunteers were setting up the stage for the memorial program and architects were delivering a model of the National September 11 Memorial & Museum, yet, they were all working slowly with such caution and precision. Tourist even stopped taking pictures and took a moment to observe the former location of the Twin Towers, SILENTLY. Sorrow and somberness seemed to reach up to heaven because it rained in a matter that seemed like the city itself was crying. I felt so mournful and enraged.

It's possible I left my feelings there that day; I returned to Ground Zero September 11th and could hear the commotion before I emerged from the train station. There were those who were there crying and mourning the lost, and there were those who were speaking about the controversy that surrounds the "attack." I immediately gravitated to a man who was talking about the "unexplained" things that occurred on that day. He argued why the buildings fell demolition style, why many New Yorkers believe that it was only two buildings that were destroyed in the World Trade Center plaza, and a bunch of other incidents that somehow added up to the number seven. Much of what he said - mostly the seven mumble jumble - was senseless, but even I know there are things that just DO NOT add up from that day. Out of respect, and fear of government surveillance, I'll refrain from giving my opinion about what REALLY happened...but if I send you a postcard from Cuba with a picture of me and Assata Shakur on the front, it's because my super came over unannounced to "inspect" my apartment.

Just as I was about to create a soapbox, made of street meat foil, and trump this man's information with facts, my friend kindly pointed out the Tribute in Lights memorial. The memorial was amazing; approximately 88 search lights directed towards the sky, towering over the city as the buildings once did. When I began to take pictures I noticed large unidentified particles floating within the lights. It definitely wasn't snow, and the particles were too large to be moths, so naturally, we walked towards the lights - which were located quite a few blocks away from Ground Zero - to see what they were. As I stood directly underneath the memorial, which was located atop a parking lot near Battery Park, I ruled out every logical object it could be. The New York Times reported they were "insects (and perhaps birds), but I beg to differ. Perhaps it's just something that cannot be explained, or maybe, just maybe, it's the spirits of those who were lost in the tragedy. If they cannot explain how St. Paul's Chapel, which was located directly across the street from the World Trade Center, suffered no damage on 9/11, than its quite possible the objects traveling within the lights are unexplainable as well.


There were 2,970 plus people who died on that day. Four hundred thousand people were exposed to the World Trade Center dust, sixty four of which have died of September 11th related illnesses. Countless volunteers and rescue workers who worked during the relief efforts are now dealing with illnesses that include post traumatic stress disorder, respiratory disorder, and cancer. Seven years later, it is still very clear that we will NEVER FORGET, especially when 9/11 related problems still persist.

My heart and my prayers go out to those affected by this catastrophe.

♥ J'aime Bianca

Fashion Weak

Labor Day seems to invoke a number of different emotions. For those who actually get that day off, it provides a sense of relief because the three day weekend allows you to circumvent the usual Monday blues. For parents, it brings forth an overwhelming sense of joy because it means the kids are going back to school. And for New York fashionistas, Labor Day brings forth feelings of love, passion and creativity because Mercedes Benz Fashion Week is right around the corner.

I must admit, I was eager to be apart of this seasons festivities. I applied to several different internship postings via craigslist with the hopes of being underneath the magical tents. Evidently, I was not the only girl, or guy or transgender person nowadays, who wanted in because my willingness to labor for free was denied. I was completely content with pursing this quest again in the winter, until I met Tom. He was the Wille Wanka to my fashion factory. It is my personal goal to become a fashion stylist, and when I overheard him tell someone he was a fashion stylist on the train, I had to introduce myself. A few extra stops and a business card later, I found myself with the golden ticket – an invitation to a fashion show.

Unfortunately, I let my fashion fantasies exceed my reality. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I was going to be underneath “the tent” between Heidi Klum and (my all time favorite editor at large) Andre’ Leon Talley, however, the idea of strutting into the promenade or the salon in my lacey pumps had become a reoccurring day dream of mine. The show I attended was not exactly a Fashion Week show; it’s what I like to call a “Fashion Weak” show.

fashion weak (‘fa•sh^ən ‘wēk) noun. – small scale fashion shows that occur during Fashion Week that are not sponsored by Mercedes Benz (does not denote that they are unworthy of attending or that the designers’ collections are weak, they’re just not as glamorous as the shows in Bryant Park).

After fighting the tropical rain storm, spilling pizza grease on my dress (which thankfully did not leave a stain), and breaking the tip of the heel of my shoe on the sidewalk, I stepped off the train at 42^nd Street Grand Central Terminal – a few avenues away from Bryant Park – with my confidence surprisingly still in tact. My bad luck made me perfectly on time to meet Tom and a few of his friends. He greeted me with the same kindness and sincerity that he did when he first met me, and wasted no time telling me about the exciting Verrier show he had just worked at Bryant Park. We watched the Kahri show, which made me covet the “Leader of the Pack” jacket and “Love Child” top, and I made a few new contacts. By 11:00pm, my stain resistant dress and broken lacey pumps were back in the closet, and I couldn’t have been happier. It definitely was not my Fashion Week dream, but it was well worth the adventure.

♥ J’aime Bianca