The New York Happy Meal

Tomorrow is July 4th. And this year, it’s also our country’s 250th birthday. Lately, I’ve been seeing a lot on Instagram about this term collective effervescence, a sociological concept developed over a century ago that describes the emotional synchronization that happens when a group is present for the same experience simultaneously. It might be a music festival where everyone sings the lyrics in unison, or how I imagine Manhattan felt after the Knicks won the NBA title, or the energy at a World Cup game. I almost think of it as a bubbling-over point for collective joy. After the winter we had in Minnesota, we are overdue for it.

We’ll probably spend our holiday as a family on the lake, in our own sphere of effervescence. I like to keep our days leisurely in the summer. We’ll stay outside as much as we can and watch local fireworks to cap off the night. I do know for certain I’ll be wearing something breezy, like a pareo with a swimsuit and an Eleanor Shirt. (As I write this, it’s a sticky hot mess outside. The “feels like” in Minnesota is in the triple digits today.)

I sometimes wonder if I think about independence more than the average person. I was a political science major who genuinely thought she’d be president someday. I’m fascinated by politics. I’m involved in my local government. But I’m also highly motivated by a different form of independence: entrepreneurship. The freedom to start something from scratch simply by finding a need, building a community around it, and watching it become real.

I started Eleanor Leftwich as an anonymous account more than eight years ago. I used a family name and started posting about clothes I loved and my vintage collection. One day, TIBAL (@things.I.bought.and.liked) reposted me, and I went from 600 followers to 8,000 overnight. I didn’t have a product at that time. I didn’t even have a plan. I just had a bunch of people who suddenly cared a lot about what I was saying. So I built the thing they were asking for, which, over the last three years, has grown into a real clothing line that’s made transparently and sourced directly. I launched it in five months because nobody told me that was impossible (naivete is often a superpower!). And I’m still growing in year three.

Building Eleanor Leftwich was different from the other entrepreneurial ventures in my life. The demand came first. The product came second. That’s backwards from how you’re supposed to do it, perhaps. But it’s allowed me to fill a real void in the market. It’s one that grew from something I sincerely believe in.

Honestly, I thought I was the only weirdo who built a brand this way. Then someone from our digital marketing team tipped me off to Martinis with Fries, and I realized I’d found my people.

What made you decide to launch as an anonymous brand? Was that intentional from day one, or did it evolve?

(Funny to hear you call Martinis with Fries a brand—but I guess it is one these days!) I want to stay anonymous because I don’t want people following me as much as they’re following an account that highlights the best combination out there: martinis with fries. It’s almost like a community, and I’m just another person in it.

How has anonymity shaped the way people interact with the brand? Do you think it changes the relationship compared to a personal brand?

The anonymity has made followers feel more like part of the conversation—they share their own experiences at bars and restaurants too. I love when someone comments “this is one of my favorite spots!” or “can’t wait to go there soon!” And I live for the messages and pictures from people who’ve tried places I’ve reviewed, or who reach out asking for recommendations.

If someone wanted to start an anonymous brand today, what would you tell them about the realities versus the appeal?

Start anonymous if you’re even a little interested. You can always introduce yourself later—but it’s a lot harder to go the other way around.

When did it stop feeling like a side thing and start feeling like an actual brand?

When the “top 10 places to get martinis with fries” post went absolutely viral and got liked by Joe Jonas. Then he showed up at my number-one spot a week later and posted a picture of a martini with fries. That felt like the “we made it” moment. (He went to Cecchi’s, by the way.)

How has your relationship with martinis and fries actually changed over three years? Has the appeal stayed the same, or shifted?

I’ve loved martinis with fries for a long time, and even after 250+ spots across NYC, I still get genuinely excited ordering an ice-cold martini with a side of salty, crispy fries. I will admit I’ve gotten a little snobbier about them, though.

Who is your audience? Who do you think you’re speaking to?

Truly anyone who likes martinis and/or fries—which I feel like is almost everyone. And if you’re one of the rare few who likes neither martinis nor fries... I really hope you find some joy in your life in other ways.

July 4th is about independence—do you feel like you’ve built your own kind of independence through this brand?

I think the 4th is also about identity (the United States creating its own) and celebration (of the country). And I’ve found an identity and a voice through martinis with fries—it’s genuinely become part of who I am to my friends and family. Every catch-up now starts with “Had any exceptional martinis with fries lately?!”

What’s YOUR martini order? Fries style? Any pairings that genuinely surprised you?

One thing I’ve learned doing this is how particular a martini lover is about THEIR martini. I’m usually team vodka, slightly dirty, regular olives—but I’m also happy with a gin with a twist... or a vesper... or a lychee martini... or a cucumber martini... or an espresso martini... should I keep going?

Where do you want to take this in the next year?

I have some big plans for Martinis with Fries, though I’m not sure yet when they’ll come to fruition. For now, I just want to keep enjoying The New York Happy Meal, exploring new and old restaurants, and making new friends along the way. (And if anyone has a contact for Dua Lipa or Stanley Tucci, I’d love to gift them a hat.)