Come on girl, take the night off from dreaming and ride with me. Speeding over the Brooklyn Bridge and into the Manhattan skyline. Arrive at apartment 6C on the Lower East Side. Walk up, wine and playing dress up in the mirror. Red lips and vintage sequin garments on the floor. Curled hair, blonde locks and switching between sipping pink wine, and peeking at your look in the bathroom mirror. All dressed and ready for adventure, first stop the Bowery Hotel.
Boutique vibes and a burning fireplace, walk right up to the person in charge and demand a table. You pretend you're a hotel guest, and slip to the back. St Germaine champagne, $30 dollars a glass. Velvet chairs and Mona Lisa vibes, we're all smiles and class. Blonde hair hanging in the velvet ropes, boney arms and boots. Gold rings and empty glasses, it's on to the next location.
Glide inside a Moroccan restaurant on the Bowery, a glass of Rose and fresh hummus. The place was filled with glowing lights and red rugs you'll never be able to steal for your studio flat. We twist in our chairs and talk about our personal histories. None of us attached to anything in our past, we're ready for night adventure. Barley twenty-something and dripping in all that Manhattan has to offer, we take up the entire sidewalk with our giggles. Lovers in gold, blush.
Running around outside like wild East Village youth, we stop for M&M's and sit atop other people's Japanese motorcycles. She looks so cool in her new camaro, all teal and racing stripes. Slide your body across the top and smoke your cigarettes at the stars. Drunk on the feeling that we are gonna win, spirits and warm smoke circles. Got to think it off your mind. We run into a castle, swing our legs across the superb gold detail and sink into the velvet chairs. Hanging from a chandelier, we hear a sound over on Avenue A, and take off running.
The rhythm was all they needed to hear, they skipped the line and climbed five flights of rainbow stairs to the dance floor. And they danced their way into the night, through palm trees and djs and red-stained makeout sessions. Come close, nobody cares what's going on inside that mind. Hung in the feeling. Now the sound of loving is all they hear, as they cast themselves back inside before the New York sunrise. Got to keep it all in line.
sequin dress by Nasty Gal
photos by Jen Senn