I was remembering brick like that, like home, Grand Street, the faces of women who never appeared without lipstick or stockings, unless they were at the laundry mat on a Tuesday morning, running four machines at once - colors, whites, linens, socks - and then they wore audacious curlers and important house dresses bought on sale from Klein's or Alexanders.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.