Grace started it wonderfully.
My hat was bright yellow felt. The dress was a simple rayon A-line with long bell sleeves. Pink, turquoise, and yellow print on white.
Getting four instant pictures for a dollar was such a deal. The making ready in the usually greasy mirror. Hold your breath...or not. Laughing out loud and spoiling two out of the four. Then standing outside and waiting for the grumbling grind to spit the strip into the slot. Don't put your fingers on it!
The photo booth was in Grand Central Station, NYC. Spring 1967. I was on my way with my portfolio for my first interview at the School of Visual Arts. Alone. I got in. At the time, the school was uncredited. They needed my money.
I remember her well. She had no illusions, no goals, and no expectations. Every day was new and wide open to whatever happened next.
Many years later, I discovered that I had gone to classes right around the corner from where our friend Michelle had lived for several years. We probably passed each other on the sidewalk and nodded, friendly-like. I was never much of a New York City girl. Ever the tourist from the country.
