notes on dimes
as told by someone who visited way too much in a single week
remember when people used to refer to downtown manhattan as lower east side? but due to reactionary, nu right podcasts n apolitical print media, lower east side has been rebranded as dimes square™ — the epicenter of culture.
as a 24, writer girly w Taste, i sometimes frequent the area. i somehow do so more now than when i actually lived a few blocks north of da microneighborhood. last week, i went on a girlboss mission to cover a collection drop n performance at a cool girl boutique. jus like every other time i visit anywhere under delancey, it was extremely underwhelming.
due to my gad, i dragged my friend bunny — a loweky fashion girly — with me. we pulled up to the storefront n was met with older, waifish white girls smoking cigarette n talking to the guy versions of themselves. they were da slightly alt version of da fratty overload happening in northern les. all they did was stare; we stared right back at them. unsure what we got ourselves into, we walked into the store. one of the workers was pouring wine into cups for guests, but didn’t offer any to us. nor did she greet us. as a retail worker myself, i empathize with service workers — jobs suck n most people do too — but this lack of interaction felt targeted. since we weren’t frequent clients or friends or oomfs, we didn’t exist. our experience would’ve changed if i revealed i was covering da event for a magazine, but what’s da point in that. its not like we looked like we / necessarily dont belong / either, were cute girlies who dress cute! but whatevaaaa. we tried to limit da space we took up while looking at da collection on a single rack in a tiny room.
i felt bad for making bunny cross da bridge for an / event / that we stayed at for less than five minutes, so we decided to eat. for da bit, we went to dimes da restaurant. after being seated in da muggy af room, bunny was brave enough to ask if we can sit outside. “there’s plenty of seats outside,” da waitress replied. of course on my way out, i accidentally walked into one of da tiny tables n disrupted da overall ambiance. now im cursed foreva.
da menu was small with nothing eyecatching nor mouthdrooling. i flipped it over, nothing on da back. bunny didnt notice n did da same thing later. we decided to share, choosing da potatoes as one option because that’s always safe — until u start to wonder why da hell r u spending 10 on a potato but its too late. while we waited, one of the waiters brought out bunny’s drink — an overpriced concoction with blue ice that smelled like gucci bloom — then immediately walked back inside. he was already half way there by da time bunny’s thank u came out. dat was da second time he did that n also da last we saw of him. it made me think dat mayb i can make it out in da restaurant business after all. (my thoughts changed after da meal, when i realized only my side was dirty). since we were in da treat ourselves mood, we said yes to da dessert menu. it was even smaller, probs da size of my palm. options included: buckwheat cake, saffron rice pudding, vegan coconut dulce de leche cake (which was actually more of a pie). i assume this is because in this neighborhood, girlies r counting their calories.
we agreed it was a 3/5 stars — experience + food. we debated going to home sweet home, to keep da bit going possibly seeing da dare dj. but were dimes lightweights n needed to head back to *crying emoji* bushwick. equally annoying n freighting, i kno.
bushwick is to dimes, wha dimes is to bushwick — a fever dream vicinity u hope to avoid while people living in bumfuck have wet dreams abt attending its bars, clubs, raves, parties, etc. they have become places that surpass the physicality, existing as an ideology, a look, a meme thanks to da internet. i would argue that at least bushwick is queer n contains more than a single tokenized black person, however, if i was in a different class bracket, my opinion might b different xD…. ..!
a cloud of clout floats above the two, which is why these neighborhood often become unbearable. for example, at dinner, bunny n i sat next to one of / da new hottest djs / in da transgressive ~ indie sleaze revival. ~ he was dressed like young julian casablancas w a bright ass red conductor type hat. he was also da dude who sent my roomie dick pics while he was w his gf when we were 19. across da street was someone i partied w a couple of times while out w friends. they def have given me k at some point. a few blocks down stood da biggest hyper pop duo from da unground. bunny said she knew one of them because they went to the same college. but we didnt talk to anyone else – we jus whispered abt our proximity to these people while trying not to b obvious when confirming it is who we think it is.
this is expected n normal n usually occurs when the person in question is a celebrity or shit even an influencer, but these r all jus scenesters, 3 mutuals away from an oomf. this parasocial relationship is uncomfortable to face in reality. when i come across these people behind my screen, im allowed to assume they’ve seen my account one way in another, some point in their lives. when im face to face with them n not a single action of recognization is offered, im dusted off to oblivion while anxiously navigating the best way to react.
i suppose if i wasnt so in my head, i could stir up a simple, nice convo but then that means acknowledging i have less followers n therefore a predetermined, embedded ~ lameness ~ to me. while da internet often becomes a sense of community or da start of friendship for many users, the following currency of da current social media applications has created a power-infused dynamic that infiltrates certain physical spaces as well. to save us all, we must return to referring to da lower east side as da lower east side……. ..<3