I’ve recently been considering my place in this city and this city’s place in my life. I went upstate with frequent newsletter character J. this weekend, and everyone there seemed to be a New York City dropout.
In my three years here, I’ve already watched the early acolytes peel themselves off. They quickly tired of its chaos, its challenges, the way it constantly tears you down just as you’re building yourself up. This is a city built on transience. A city of renters, of up or out promotions, of transplants. It’s a city that threatens you daily, daring you to leave. Of course, it would be cleaner somewhere else. Cheaper somewhere else. Easier somewhere else.
But it wouldn’t be New York.
I moved here hoping to stay, a resolve that was tested almost immediately. I arrived in the cold depths of the pandemic, able to count on one hand the number of people I knew here.
A year in, with my husband living abroad and unable to secure a visa, we discussed for hours where we could live and how to make it work. At one point, Berlin seemed to be the center of triangulation around jobs, visas, and money. I took the effort seriously, speaking to my previous employer about expanding our team abroad. But as soon as I said out loud that I would move to Berlin, I burst into tears. Sometimes, the heart knows what the brain won’t admit.
I wasn’t ready to leave New York. Not so soon. Not ever perhaps.
So I stayed. My husband eventually, finally, was able to join me here. I made friends. I started tying myself down in small ways. Getting involved with nonprofits. Meeting my neighbors. Having a preferred bagel shop. Greeting my dry cleaner by name.
It started to feel like home. Little by little.
This city has shown me it’s worth all the difficulties again and again. On every corner, there is someone doing something wild and creative and amazing they couldn’t get away with anywhere else. Everywhere I go I meet amazing people who challenge me, inspire me, and open me up to new ideas. I love the sense of endless possibility here—you truly never know what a day will bring. I love being at the center of the world—of art, fashion, culture, innovation, entrepreneurship, business. I love that just when I feel like I’ve seen it all, there’s something completely different happening, or I discover a new street, or a new person, or a new idea. I couldn’t imagine having a life full of this much texture anywhere else.
I recently visited my older brother in his new home in Cambridge, England, where he moved to be a professor. He lived on the Upper West Side for ten years, and it was my early experiences visiting him, starting as a teenager, that first showed me what this city could be.
I told him how much I was loving New York. How I had become a “New York or nowhere” person (except perhaps Paris). How I missed the city while traveling. How I loved it more than I ever expected, because I didn’t know what to expect when I moved here.
“I always thought you would stay here a couple years, maybe go to graduate school, and move back to San Francisco,” my brother said to me.
I considered this observation. With apologies to my parents, I’ve never seriously considered moving back to San Francisco. It will always be my first home, the city that shaped me, the city that made me a city dweller. But it’s not who I am today.
That’s something about change—sometimes you’re the last to notice.
Today I am a New Yorker. And maybe one day I will be a Parisian. Or an Istanbulite. I try to remind myself that life is long. But as I look to the future, I see New York.
One of my go-to questions to ask people these days is “what makes a New Yorker?”. The answers I’ve gathered have ranged. “If you live here for two years,” “five years,” “seven years.” “You’re only a real New Yorker if you were born here.” Or “If the rats don’t phase you.”
My favorite Substack Café Anne has a fantastic quiz that told me that I am, in fact, a New Yorker (thanks to a recent trip to Staten Island, because a real New Yorker has been to all five boroughs!).
But the answer that felt the truest was the person who told me “you’re a New Yorker if you don’t belong anywhere else.”
I know I belong in New York. Not transient. But permanent.
Quick poll
And a very quick poll! I love writing this newsletter and would write it for 10 subscribers or 10,000. I want it to be most fun for you. Let me know what kind of writing you like best, and if you want to offer any more feedback, shoot me a note at claire.akkan@gmail.com.
Updates on the bag project
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fd1af2b72-93b9-4d1b-b0f6-77bd2ca30fa8_1082x1456.png)
Oh baby, we’ve got updates!
Four new bags are newly on the site, with more coming this week. We’ve got some fan favorite black and brown leather Gucci bags (bamboo handles and all!) with linings ranging from neutral and classic (see The Goldie above) to fun and vibrant.
I am still aiming for more professional product photography once the next batch of bags comes in.
This weekend, I also worked on retail outreach(!) to see about securing another retail partner, and media outreach to some of my favorite Substackers to see about featuring the bags.
More soon!
Look of the week
Spotted at a runway show hosted by Liv (the gal in whose store I sell my bags!). The runway show was in honor of Earth Day and featured upcycled garments of all varieties, modeled by dancers who performed a meditation on consumption. It was, shall I say, the most Brooklyn thing I’ve ever been to. There were many wonderful fits. I particularly loved this young woman in her Alaia bedazzled mary janes, long floral dress, pink feather (faux one assumes) coat, and piles of jewelry. You can see the pearl-emblazoned bag strap of her white (vegan?) leather bag. She looked very fun and different, yet still pulled together and chic! Honorable mention to the woman next to her for those shoes that look straight out of the Wizard of Oz.
What’s on the bedside table
The English Understand Wool is a slim novella that genuinely confounded me. It’s so strange, I’m not even sure how it got published. But some of the sentences Helen DeWitt came up with are absolutely breathtaking—the kinds of sentences that make me jealous I didn’t write them myself! I really don’t want to spoil too much, as I would encourage you to read it. Loosely, it’s about a person whose life takes an unexpected twist and she’s left piecing together the puzzle of her highly cultural and international upbringing. Just when you think you have a grasp on what’s going on, there’s a massive twist that will make you reconsider everything you thought. I read it in an hour, it’s not that long, but a fun read for a light night. Highly recommend.
Thanks for reading Cappuccino Thoughts. If you want more where this came from, subscribe here.
If you liked this issue, hit that like button or leave me a comment! It’s really helpful for me to understand what you all want more or less of.
This week I am….going to see Uncle Vanya, which combines several of my favorite things: theater, Steve Carell, and sad Russian stories. Though I’ve heard it’s not set in 1890s rural Russia, but today. Curious!
Catch up on recent issues: