When I was 16 years old, I got the chance to travel with my 10th grade history class to New York City, New York. Before then, the only thing I knew about NYC was what I saw on television, and I was excited to go based on my partial perception. I didn't know what NYC totally had in store, and I didn't know that I was about to experience a love affair that would never end. When I got to the city, my heart melted. I felt like I was home.
Ever since that summer of '98, all I did was talk about NYC. I began listening to every New York rapper I could find. I watched tons of movies that were based in NYC. My brother thought I had gone crazy; he was correct. I was obsessed. I went so far as to declare my first child's name would be Brooklyn (yes, New York was that serious to me). A lot of people go to NYC and fall in love with the tourist attractions and aesthetics. Those things didn't move me at all. The tall buildings didn't excite me nor did the bright lights make me beam. What got me was the hustling vibe I felt. I was amazed at the fact that everyone was on the move, and they were laser focused on their journeys. Worrying about what other people were doing didn't seem to be on New Yorkers' agendas at all. They concentrated on getting where they had to go to handle what they had to handle - this was definitely my type of place.
Fast forward years later, and I have visited NYC several times. I've sat in small cafes in Brooklyn, brunched with some fly girls in Harlem, partied at the 40/40 club in Manhattan, and walked aimlessly through the Bronx. However, my recent visit tops all of the other ones because I GOT THE CHANCE TO EXPERIENCE NEW YORK FASHION WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!