It’s about time you met this lady. Her name is Mary Lane.
She lives in New York City. Has for almost 6 years. Wonders if that is enough time to call herself a New Yorker. Knows it is in some circles, but not the ones that matter. She lives in Hamilton Heights, a Manhattan neighborhood that most people have never heard of. If she wants to feel bad ass, she can say she lives in Harlem. If she senses you’ll worry or judge, she can say, “just north of Columbia”.
Mary Lane’s go-to pizza place, Bella Vita, is on a side street of Times Square, a block away from where she works. Yeah, she works in Times Square, often on weekends. Which means if you catch her on the way to work on a Saturday night, steam is pouring out of her ears. Why can’t people move through Times Square? I hate tourists! She doesn’t really hate tourists. She loves entertaining them. Lucky because that’s her job.
Magnolia Bakery is too cliché (really too sweet) even for her. She prefers her cupcakes from ChikaLicious or Sprinkles. But hell yes, she loves a good cupcake. Macarons even more, but those little French cookies have never exploded as a New York trend. She’s never bought a pretzel from a street vendor, and part of her feels a little sad about that. You’ll think she’s a vegetarian when you first meet her, but nope, she’s not. To tell the truth, ML is a bit of a snob and thinks hot dogs are icky. Her drink is Bacardi and pineapple juice, though she’s recently developed a great fondness for tequila. Wanna see a gal do a tequila shot without flinching? That’s always been easy for Mary Lane. Sometimes she wonders if there’s something wrong with her taste buds.
Her favorite subway line is the D. Favorite building is the Chrysler. Favorite bridge is the Brooklyn Bridge. Honestly, no other bridge makes much of an effort. Favorite park is Central Park, no matter what the season. There’s a castle there, how do you compete with that? Favorite neighborhood is the West Village because she doesn’t know it that well. It still holds the thrill of the unknown, sometimes a New York girl needs to feel the thrill of being a little lost. Favorite river is the east river because, yuck, New Jersey. Lord, Mary Lane is a total New York Cliché.
No kidding. She’s such a big New York Cliché, for years she’s identified herself as such. Writing a personal blog about life in New York City, it always felt safer to take advantage of the easy anonymity that the internet allows. As she became a better writer, Mary Lane began revealing more of her vulnerabilities, realizing truth and honesty breathe life into words like nothing else. The prouder she became of her writing, the more she wanted to attach her name to it. At the same time, she became tentative to let the whole world know these were her struggles. Her heart breaks, her doubts, her triumphs, her moments of abject ridiculousness.
Then she thought, Hey, this is me. I have nothing to hide. I’m going to own it. Own my words, attach my name, show you just what I look like. Will there be ramifications? Maybe. But this is who I am, how I think, how I write. Hiding behind anonymity makes me look ashamed, cowardly, or at the least tentative. No, internet, I am none of those things! I’m a New York Cliché and damn proud of it!
So hi, hi everyone! My name is Mary Lane. This is my blog. Nice to finally put a name and a face to it all, don’t you agree? I would love it if you would introduce yourself in the comments section, just say hi! Have you been reading for a while, or did you just stumble here today? Does my name get the song “Penny Lane” stuck in your head? What’s your proximity to NYC? If you blog, link me up! I pinky promise to reply to each and every one (for once). Let’s tear down all the yellow caution tape of mystery, on all sides.
If you support my uh, shall we say Blog Coming Out, I hope you’ll share New York Cliché on…shall we say your social media platform of choice. You can find me on Facebook and Twitter. True thanks to the best readers ever! Here’s to taking it to the next level as my true self!
All photos taken in Rockefeller Center by John Michael Decker.