|Rachel Roy Silk and Cotton Blouse, Rachel Roy Skirt, Kate Spade Shoes|
Despite all of the hustle and bustle of New York Fashion Week, I could not forget that Sunday was the tenth anniversary of 9/11. As much as I love September and late summer, 9/11 always looms on the calendar. I've gone back and forth about posting about 9/11. My blog provides inspiration, frivolity and a dose of happiness, but it's also a reflection of me.
While growing up, my father would tell me stories about his watching the World Trade Center go up, from across the Hudson. It took six years for the first building to go up and people were transfixed by the construction. I always found this amusing because the World Trade Center seemed like it had been there indefinitely to my childhood eyes. The towers were my marker. Easily identifiable in the skyline; when you spotted the towers you were headed south. I loved the chaotic pace of offices. As a family we would visit the World Trade Center shops or pass through the towers in route to other destinations downtown. My aunt worked at the World Trade Center, so there was a familiarity. My aunt was working in the World Trade Center during the 1993 attacks and had to be evacuated. I was too young to remember much about the 1993 attacks, but my aunt was shaken, but safe.
September 11, 2001 was a beautiful Tuesday late summer morning. There was a perfect blue sky. It was the era of Rudy Giuliani; and the city, for better or worse, had a grittiness. I remember, coming out of my first class and running into a classmate who was hysterical. I remember she was so upset that I couldn't process what she was telling me. She grabbed my hand and I remember entering a classroom with a TV just as Flight 175 hit the second tower.
I'm not comfortable with going into great detail about that day, but I'm from an area that saw a lot of loss of life. I called my parents on their various phone lines, but the phones were jammed. It would be late in the evening when I was able to get through. I alternated calling my parents while shaking and watching it all unfold. Then the tower collapsed and I felt paralyzed. I clasped my classmates hand and prayed for all of the people we knew who worked and passed through those buildings.
The coming days and months were very touch and go. My best friend insisted on sleeping over because she couldn't get in touch with her dad. I found it hard to sleep for months. I would close my eyes and think of the acrid smell that lingered or the smoldering rubble. No one wanted to be alone. There was this sense of taking things one day at a time. The city and the world changed. I'll never forget all of the missing persons notices posted downtown, and how they weathered and stayed up until they turned to dust; or my brother's classmate, who after a few days of not making contact with her father, was asked to provide his toothbrush to aid in the identification process. It was purely terrifying. Sadly, it's a feeling that too many people throughout the world have felt.
In spite of all the grief, I've encountered many stories of hope. The punctual family friend who never hops off the train in the morning, but hopped off that particular day because she wanted a bottle of water. The neighbor who took the longer route to work just because... For every story of heartbreak, I know someone who has triumphed and used this tragedy to relish the simple things. People who have changed careers and found a way to feel more fulfilled. People who spend more time with their families because they realize just how special that is. September 11th humbled us.
I think it's important to take a little time out to reflect. So, this is me, spending a little time at one of my favorite peaceful spots. Everyone needs a peaceful spot. I'm wearing a Rachel Roy silk and cotton blouse and a Rachel Roy skirt. Both were purchased a few years ago. The line has been rebranded from a designer line into a contemporary line. It's a line that I like for its' femininity and subtlety. I love that she did pleats before they were a trend. There's something classically beautiful about Rachel Roy's clothes. Utter frivolity, but sometimes you need the little things to pull through.