Greenwich Village


This is part of a memoir series on my friendship with Renee who I met in college and focuses mainly on our escapades during our late teens and early twenties. 


One of the things that stood out about Renee and I was that we had visibly distinct styles.  Renee was preppie to the core whereas I was alternately edgy, punk, bohemian, or avante garde.  Some people thought I dressed crazy.  🙂  I might have on fatigues, an army belt, leopard skin pants, or a prairie skirt and cowboy boots.  Who knew.  Renee on the other hand would be sporting an Izod or Polo shirt and lots of pink and green.

I’m pretty certain that Greenwich Village was not her favorite place.  She brought me there out of love and knowing that I would love it.  I spent countless hours roaming around in thrift stores and odd boutiques. Renee grinned and beared it.  Then we would inevitably go and eat somewhere and talk for more hours.  Friends.


2 thoughts on “Greenwich Village

  1. Yes, the word friends’ says it all. Your story resonates. I think about my friends, and how we celebrate our zany differences. Let’s take, for example, the bread basket at a restaurant. Some of us obsess over it, and attack it with ferocity; some of us don’t even notice the bread because we are intent on the conversation. I’m enjoying your memoir!

    • Friends are so wonderful. I love your brass basket example. I manage to attack it and talk at the same time! 🙂 I am glad you are liking my little memoir. It’s been fun going back through memory lane.

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