I am a New Yorker

Carrie Bradshaw, Miranda Hobbes, Charlotte York and Samantha Jones are the women who introduced me to the New York City life.

Fabulous apartment in Manhattan. Parties here and there. Brunch at a trendy restaurant. Posh bars for those night out with the girls. Cosmos and vodka martinis. Fabulous clothes and shoes and bags. And careers that enable you to pay for all of that (or maybe not quite).

Minus the sex with multiple men over the course of six seasons, Sex and the City was my ideal life in NYC. I dreamt of standing in the middle of Times Square, walking along the tree-lined Central Park, watching Broadway shows, seeing the Statue of Liberty up close, living in an apartment in the Upper East Side, wearing fabulous clothes and Jimmy Choos.

The reality is this: working at barely $60 an hour in NYC doesn’t give you the financial freedom to live in an apartment in the Upper East Side and buy Manolos and Choos and Dior. If you’d rather be as thin as a stick from malnutrition or bury yourself in credit card debts, then by all means live extravagantly.

In case the secret is not out yet, I’m saying it now: Living in NYC is expensive (cue the screams of outrage and shock).

But you know what? (WHAT?!)

I’d rather live in a modest house (or apartment, depends on our financial stability) in Queens, and wear Old Navy or Gap or Banana Republic, and enjoy EVERYTHING that New York has to offer, with the love of my life.

One day, we’ll be able to afford a place we can call ours and buy designer clothes and shoes (or maybe not. Too frugal, we are!)

Until then, I have Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha, my fictional girl friends who taught me that whoever I meet and whatever I do, living in NYC with the love of my life will not be a piece of cake.

But I will love it.

And it will definitely be fabulous.


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