THE CLUB FOR UNCONVENTIONAL WOMEN

On a Friday afternoon I am waiting in line on a sidewalk in SoHo to get into a new vintage designer bag boutique when zips around the corner to meet me. Her razor-sharp neon pink bob and angel wings greet me before she does.

I always love seeing her. Gala has that electric, unapologetic energy that gives other women permission to live their lives as fully and colorfully as possible. Our conversations are always of the two women living life on their own terms variety. We talk about freedom, creativity, and the ongoing art of building unconventional lives.

Gala moved from New York to California and is engaged to a man there that she does not share a home with and never will. She recently leased an apartment in New York City because she missed the energy here. She goes back and forth between the two cities whenever she feels like it. She doesn’t want children. She’s not in a rush to get married. In fact, she may not get married at all.

And yet. She loves her fiancé. She has an extremely healthy, fulfilling relationship with him. But she also has one with herself.

I’m a born-and-raised New Yorker who recently moved to Florida to be with the man I am engaged to. The plan is to stay in Florida until his youngest teenage daughter gets through high school. I love the life we’re building together, but I also miss my life in New York.

So I fly up to the city every few weeks to reconnect with my family, my friends, and most importantly—myself.

Moving was harder than I imagined.

Not because I don’t love my fiancé deeply or the world we are building together. But because I underestimated just how much New York is my identity.

I know it might sound bizarre to give that much credit to a city, but if you know, you know. New York is so much more than a place. It’s a feeling. An intangible energy that charges this city with a current so strong it’s impossible not to feel like absolutely anything is possible.

It’s meeting friends for lunch at 12:30 PM and then winding up at a gay bar at 6 and then at Jackie O’s grandson’s political pep rally at 8 and then at a pub at midnight talking about life, love, and—you guessed it—New York, with two women you just met.

It’s screaming and crying and hugging strangers in a packed bar in Brooklyn as you watch The Knicks win the championship with the same friends you’ve been celebrating life with for twenty years.

It’s waking up the next morning and eating a bagel and wondering how the hell you got so lucky to be in this exact place at this exact moment and also know that this is the city that made you who you are.

Florida has given me a gift. I’m able to build a life with the man I love. I have space and time and a peace I desperately needed. But this New Yorker thrives on edge and energy and aliveness. On adventure and possibility that you just cannot find anywhere else, even when you are inside a beautiful, healthy relationship. And I think that’s okay to admit.

No, fuck that, it’s brave to admit.

I think women are sold an idea that life has to look one way. That it is selfish to suck the marrow out of life and noble to sacrifice who we are for a lover or for our children. That relationships mean you must trade a piece of yourself in order to be in union with another. That if we decide we want an unconventional lifestyle we are somehow “unhinged” or uncompromising or incapable of commitment. That there is a rule book we must abide by or else we are deemed too much or all over the place.

But what if that’s all bullshit? What if some women simply need more? What if some women desire deep love and partnership, but also sovereignty and a fierce commitment to their own personal joy, whatever that looks like?

I am here to tell you, we get to have both.

Sitting at lunch with Gala that afternoon, listening to her talk about the life she is intentionally designing that may not make sense to everyone, made perfect sense to me. Witnessing another woman who I respect honor her own needs reminds me that I must honor mine.

I am fortunate to have a partner who supports this. Who understands the way I am wired, who fell in love with the way I am wired, and can set me free without fear or resentment when I need to put my wings on again and fly for a bit.

As I sit here in my Manhattan office (also known as my mother’s bed lol), with my wings securely fastened, I find myself looking up studio apartment rentals and setting new financial goals for myself so that I can start making a second home in New York a real plan. And I can’t help but feel just so fucking grateful that there are women who are willing to go first. To call out the bullshit script we were all handed and simply say, no thanks. To live life on their terms, and without even trying, inspire other women to do the same.

I’m also grateful for New York on an entirely different level now. You grow up here and spend your whole adult life here becoming who you are that you sometimes forget this place is made up of people who go impossibly hard for themselves. Who make New York the wildly addicting, thrilling, incomparable place that it is.

Millions of people have a story about the day they first landed in New York to build a life. Less people have a story about leaving and coming back different. I’m glad I get to write that one.

xx
Cara

Before you go! My writing community, Hot Girl Writing House, is growing quickly and honestly is the best place on the internet for literary girls. The work we do inside this space is far bigger than a Substack essay or a piece of content. It’s about taking control of the narrative of your life. A room where women can dream, get honest, and literally become the author their next chapter.

When you join Hot Girl Writing House today, you’ll immediately receive:

• The full replay of this week’s Confession Session workshop

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The best part of Hot Girl Writing House isn’t the workshops. It’s the women. The women writing books, launching Substacks, publishing essays, building businesses and lives around their ideas.

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