It was October 2001 and I lived in New York City. I was twenty-two. I, like many of my female friends, suffered from a strange combination of post-9/11 anxiety and height-of-Sex-and-the-City anxiety. They are distinct and unnerving anxieties. The questions that ran through my mind went something like this: Should I keep a gas mask in my kitchen? Am I supposed to be able to afford Manolo Blahnik shoes? What is Barneys New York? You're trying to tell me a place called "Barneys" is fancy? Where are the fabulous gay friends I was promised? Gay guys hate me! Is this anthrax or powdered sugar? Help! Help!
In October 2001, a twenty-two-year-old woman living in New York City felt overwhelmed by two distinct anxieties: the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks and the pressures of living up to romanticized expectations influenced by cultural depictions such as "Sex and the City." Her thoughts constantly oscillated between the practical concerns of worrying about safety, such as whether to keep a gas mask on hand, and the social pressures surrounding fashion and friendships that seemed unattainable.
This inner turmoil highlighted her struggle with feelings of inadequacy, as she questioned whether she should be able to afford designer shoes and why her life didn’t match the glamorous expectations set by popular media. As she grappled with these modern dilemmas, she felt isolated, wondering about her place in a city where her image of an ideal life, filled with chic friends and confidence, fell short, leading to confusion and frustration.
