A year ago, I wrote a Sunday Salon post inspired by my reading of The Red Leather Diary. (And speaking of which, happy birthday two days late, Florence Wolfson.) In that post, which was noticed by author Lily Koppel and later mentioned on her blog, I pondered the idea of what it must have been like being part of a literary salon in New York City.
I wrote, on 7/29/2009: How I would have loved to have been part of Florence Wolfson’s literary salons …. Can you imagine what it would have been like? Discussing literature and exchanging ideas, escaping from one’s everyday life for the time it takes to write a blog post and being something more than what we do as a profession or a career or whoever we pay the bills striving for something more than materialism from getting rich at any cost?
And then it struck me: I am part of such a salon, just in a different form than what once was in the 1930s. If you think about it, it’s really not all that different than what we are doing here, online, with our blogs and in forums like She Writes …. It’s especially apropos this weekend, I think, with the finale of BlogHer ’09 in Chicago and several of us (myself included) beginning to make our plans for being at BlogHer’10 in New York City (how apropos, with the subject of this post!) a whole year from now.
|Attendees listening to Kamy and Deborah.|
A literary salon was kind of like what last Thursday night was like, as a group of us got together pre-BlogHer in Greenwich Village for a She Writes meet up.
(I do meet-ups much better than parties. I’m so not the party girl. Proof of my non-party girl status is a) the fact I wasn’t invited to any of the BlogHer parties, b) nor was I even aware that I needed to get my sorry self on the list for them, and c) I needed to ask people who the entertainment was. C’mon, tell me I’m not the only person on Earth who hasn’t heard of Gavin DeGraw.)
|Deborah and Kamy welcoming the group.|
So it was that I was thrilled to be worthy of an invite to the She Writes meet up, party, whatever you want to call it. A gathering. Of women, of writers. Those who love literature and writing and are passionate about the craft. A group of incredibly talented and creative women, all talking about writing and process and the how’s and the why’s.
After successfully navigating the subway, my roommate Florinda and I promptly got lost – wandering through … the Lower East Side? Chinatown? Greenwich Village? All of the above? Whatever. It didn’t matter. Somehow we found our way to Lolita, a cute little funky place where we met She Writes founder Kamy Wicoff as well as Deborah Siegel, who is She Writes’ VP of Education.
|One of the good things about occasionally getting lost is that you never know what you might fnd. We were fascinated by this scene in Greenwich Village (I think it was in Greenwich Village) of this concert … a salon of a different type, perhaps.|
|Bonnie, Densie, Florinda, and Kamy|
The streets were crowded. Men wore fedoras and women wore gray, brown, and occasionally maroon suits, with calf-length skirts cut on the bias and razor-sharp pleats, all clicking along on high heels. They seemed to be walking too fast, like actors in a jumpy olf black-and-white reel. Not a strand of hair protruded from under the hard line around the faces. The world was spinning faster and faster. No one wanted to be left behind.”