Like A Double Rainbow: Folklore and First Apartments
- champagnewishesand
- Aug 9, 2024
- 3 min read
Updated: Oct 10, 2024
Bear, Birthdays, Broadway, and Relocating from Bed-Stuy to Park Slope
These last few days I have been contemplating the power of fairy tales in our daily lives. The novel Bear by Julia Philips is a book I couldn’t put down, and I can’t stop thinking about. Her novel begins with an excerpt from a Grimm’s Fairy Tale, an uncomfortable passage about two siblings taunting a bear. Philip’s narrative centers on two sisters and, as Carmen Maria Machado says, is “a haunted house story” like most stories ever written.
For the last few months I have been considering centering my novel in progress around Irish Folklore. Currently I’m reading the Irish Folklore compilation by W.B. Yeats, so this was particularly interesting to me. Even more so, the bond between the two sisters continues to haunt me. I consider Sisterhood my greatest joy and my greatest sorrow. The nuances of this complex relationship is characterized well in Bear, how this unique bond can run inexplicably deep and shallow. How the love forged between sisters is undercut by secrets we don’t even realize we’re keeping, misunderstandings, assumptions, and betrayals with the best intentions.
If I have a deathbed, I imagine seeing my sister’s faces and mourning the relationship we didn’t cultivate. Perhaps one needs to move somewhere green to feel the aftershocks of a desert. The most hopeful parts of me believe a weed’s roots cannot take a foothold. Time remains. It’s a matter of courage and gumption- transplanting love where pain stubbornly resides.
From a writing stand point, I was particularly jealous of Philip’s deft handling of grief. She wrote a funeral scene I felt in my body. Whether laughing or crying, frightened or thrilled, I continue to reel at how intricately fairy tales are woven into our psyche. All Philip's needed to do was drop a bread crumb or two to tap into dormant background knowledge planted in childhood. Brilliant.
"Daddy says, Never Accept a Starting Offer:"
Clare Horowitz said it best in the cult classic, Clueless. So, I’ve spent the past weekish like Goldilocks skipping from one apartment showing to the next until finally, my Bear found us one that’s juuuust right!
A regular Prince Charming he is, finding a lovely apartment in a prime neighborhood. On budget. No broker fee. In unit laundry! Take it from me darling, first apartments are like first husbands. Don’t accept the starting offer. Trade up! To celebrate Barrett's apartment prowess, I took him out on a date in our new neighborhood at a legendary restaurant called Lore.
Last week I mentioned I would spill the tea on my terrible movers. As they have yet to deliver my belongings, I will wait to share my feedback on their business practices. To reframe, we don’t have any boxes to unpack! Brooklyn Blues step aside. This week, we are painting the town red with birthday celebrations for my daughter who is turning 18.
Manhattan Yes Day!
The four of us indulged in a Manhattan Yes Day of movable feasts, shopping, and sightseeing: First stop was Librae Bakery: a middle eastern bakery slinging craft croissants and pastries with such speed and precision, they are warm from the oven when purchased. The flaky layers of this exquisite pastry shatter with each bite- a baptism of butter. My favorite is the pistachio rose. I know I’m American. But every so often, I will eat flavors reminiscent of a home far away, a generation ago. And because fairy tales can say it better: I’m Neo in the Matrix side eying that black cat, that deja vu, and I feel so incredibly grateful to those before me whose incredible leaps across continents and countries afford me the privilege to pay 6 dollars for this croissant and feel like home.
From here we traipsed through Washington Square Park, spiraled through the Harry Potter NY Headquarters, and bought a Delorean at The Lego Store. Photos coming soon! The day closed at Eataly: a vibrant Italian marketplace where cheese wheels reign supreme, prosciutto is piled high, and hand made pasta is served, slurped, and sold. Take my money!
For a special treat, last night Liz and I saw Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club with Eddie Redmayne and Gayle Rankin! As it was just a few hours ago, I’m still processing this extraordinary experience. I have chills just typing now.
Before I close, I would be remiss if I didn't shout out my friend, Bri who sent me my very first piece of fan mail!! A lovely letter of condolence for the ripped shorts I wrote about last week. Dear Reader, I blush and I thank you!
This week’s champagne toast is to my daughter, a magical creature strutting among us mere mortals. You, darling, are my double Rainbow!
United Kingdom, gird your royal loins and hoist the Union Jack! Queen Elizabeth is returning to Kensington!
"If I have a deathbed, I imagine seeing my sister’s faces and mourning the relationship we didn’t cultivate. Perhaps one needs to move somewhere green to feel the aftershocks of a desert. The most hopeful parts of me believe a weed’s roots cannot take a foothold. Time remains. It’s a matter of courage and gumption- transplanting love where pain stubbornly resides."
This was hard to read. I felt judgment radiating from myself. Sometimes we pour so much into the oasis in the dessert, that we never allow ourselves to lay in the lush grass that is a true family.