Anonymous said: Your bangs are always amazing! Do you have a hairplace in nyc??
Thanks!! After years of searching (and many awful haircuts) in New York, I finally found MY GUY last year. His name is Erik and he cuts at Shampoo Avenue B in the East Village. Please tell him I sent you! :)
I can’t pinpoint the evening our little tradition started (but Foursquare probably can)—sometime before Amy moved to San Francisco last year, we started getting together for girls’ dinners at Ootoya.
This is how it goes. We fight our way through the hairy Elmos and naked cowboys and idiot tourists in Times Square. Someone is always late. Upon arrival there are big squeals and big squeezes and a little bit of pleading with the hostess to seat us though our whole party’s not here.
It always starts with tofu salad for the table. Fresh and light with a vinegary dressing. We catch up on everyone’s latest jaunts here and upcoming bachelorette parties there. Next comes the yakitori: tomato wrapped in pork belly, a couple skewers of chicken thighs with green onion.
Once our bellies are primed for more we order our mains. There are about three things that we ever pick: kaasanni (breaded soy sauce chicken cutlets), mini kaisen don (sashimi over rice), and salmon saikyo (perfectly moist, flakey grilled Atlantic salmon).
By the time our entrees come our conversation has gotten reaaaaal fluffy. This is the kind of conversation that—if you’re sitting at the next table over—you wonder if these girls have anything going on upstairs. We talk about boys. We talk about bags. We talk about rings. We lament over the hilariously practical gifts the men in our lives have gotten us and shamelessly critique/admire/gape at ____’s new rock/crop top/eyelash extensions on Facebook.
We laugh. A lot. The kind of outrageous, no holds barred, super horsey laughter that makes you embarrassed on behalf of us if you’re sitting across the restaurant.
Dinner never fails to end with something sweet: two scoops each of green tea, sesame, and earl grey ice cream. It ends with us shutting the place down… dragging our heels to pay the absurdly reasonable check. There’s never a need for alcohol because we’re deliriously drunk with laughter. It ends with happy giggles, fierce hugs goodbye. Though we make it a point to do it regularly… it feels like our winter coats turn into floral sundresses and then back again by the time we get together for the next one.
At the beginning of next month we lose another to California: Nancy heads west for Labor Day. In this city, your friend circle seems to be a constantly rotating cast of characters: For every one that hops on there’s another one that hops off. I can’t count on ten fingers the friends I’ve lost to bschool, to Dubai, to Miami, to Shanghai. In a city in which you can sometimes feel like you know a million people but also no one at all—I’m grateful that every now and then when I look around that table, I’ve got girlfriends that make New York home.
I love my incredibly eloquent BFF teresawu. Ootoya nights 4eva!
“[Sherpaa’s] moving medicine into an electronic age, where most doctors don’t email with their patients, like who doesn’t email? That’s the days of dinosaurs.”