When everyone’s gone, don’t stop judging

In New York there’s normally no shortage of people judging you. They voice-blog in real time all around you (way too close even *then*)

Your hair may be a little behind, or like me you may have stayed with skinny jeans a season too long because you now like your legs and can’t quite bring yourself to follow Anna Wintour’s edicts.

I’ve been trialling my new 1990’s Mom Jeans for the past six weeks and enjoyed the easy-in. All of the neighborhood Millennials have returned to their Mommy & Daddy nests in HFL (Hedge Fund Land) Greenwich Connecticut, so I’m safer from open judgement.

Above all, now is a time for quiet and reflective judgement.

Liberation means being able to walk your motorbike chassis on your favorite skateboard, and there’s nary a snarky twenty two year old left in the West Village to tell you otherwise.

For the first time ever, NYU Professors can roam East 9th in khakis and not worry about ratemyprofessor.com comments.

The city is being overrun by those who live here.

They talk of an immunity passport, but how will we get recognized?

We stayed. Not out of obligation, but out of necessity (with a side of passion)

It’s almost 7pm, time to prepare.

We’re all here now.