west egg/east egg

I just got off the phone with my sister Hannah. She's in California. I'm in Vermont. I imagine myself looking out over Lake Champlain, beyond the Adirondacks and all the way to the other side of this small country. If I could just see the glimmer of light from her front porch, see its reflection on the water... like Daisy Buchanan's over Long Island Sound. That's all the closeness I need. Is it possible our realms are so completely different now?

In Gatsby's world, geography is everything and defines, really, one's role within in it. Old money versus new money. Upper crust versus upward mobility. Trendy versus classic, innate style. "Maybe she's born with it; maybe it's Maybeline." Is it in your blood or in your wallet? That's the question. And the egg shell separating the two is very hard to crack.

In short, the two worlds shan't mix.

The difference between LA and VT, Hannah says, is undeniable. Not only in aesthetic values but in moral focus too. In LA, value is perceived rather than qualified, which means that the price tag trumps quality. If it's expensive, then it must be important, or good, or delicious; Expensive belongings also have a direct effect on social status and public perception. Ignore the idea that pricing strategy has anything to do with it.

These are large generalizations to be sure, but they play well into my West Egg, East Egg metaphor, so I'll carry on.

In Vermont, I like to think that we're the opposite in terms of consumer judgment. For instance, we find value in obscure restaurants that nobody knows about. The price doesn't always matter, but if it's good AND cheap, all the better. We feel that we've discovered our own secret treasure. In the end though, we'll most likely tell our friends about it, and in that sense, we're building our own social status too (for what it's worth in Northern Vermont) but in a much quieter fashion.

In fact, I'm willing to argue that many Vermonters are just as concerned with their public image as our SoCal compatriots. It's what we relate to that's different. We have conflicting tastes and values. That's fine. But what interests me more than the What is the Why.

Remember the glaring eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleberg--the enormous spectacles and decrepit billboard looking out over the valley of ashes? Those spectacles play a big symbolic role in Fitzgerald's story. For if you dig deep down and take a good look at all of the characters--they really aren't much different at all. Ultimately, they just want to know that they're important and to feel that they belong.

Hannah thinks that the reason that image, social status, and physical beauty are such an outwardly tangible concept in LA is because of Hollywood. It's the kind of place and culture that attracts people who want to be in the limelight (even if it's just on the street somewhere).

And Vermont? Well, it's New England. We've got the Pilgrim thing, which means we value discovery and self-expression. But we're also shrouded by our Puritanical roots, which means we're as demure and good as can be--on the outside anyways. Which goes to my point that image and public persona still count for a lot, as much as we hate to admit it.

We're all eggs cooking in the same pot.

memo addendum

I realize that I probably should have mentioned in my last entry--for Isaac's sake--that Col and I decided ultimately and officially not to move to L.A. For now, he's exploring some options at Burton right here in BTV. The success of that avenue would be ideal. We'll see how things go...

As for Hannah, we're hoping that Col's colleague Heather--who has decided to go out there for the job--will offer some much needed oompf to her social scenario.

new york, new york (L.A. no)

At the end of March, Col and I took a trip to New York City. Actually, the purpose of the trip was two-fold: to visit our friends and to attend a baby shower in Connecticut. The girlfriends went together (the boys stayed in the city, watched ninja movies, and ate Burger King). We three--Courtney, Kathleen, and I--took the train to Norwalk. It was just like that episode from Sex and the City, with the single ladies from New York dressed in black next to the mommies in pastels talking about their diaper genies. We felt a little out of place despite the excitement of seeing our friend with a very large round belly.

Later that night, back in the city and back with the boys, we met up with Courtney's friend Fran at Little Frankies. The restaurant was closed, but we stayed there at the bar drinking wine and scotch and listening to this crazy English guy (who's in love with Fran) play us songs off his playlist until 5 in the morning. The best one--and the one that's still in my head--was Major Tom by Peter Schilling...

4...3...2...1...
Earth below us...

Courtney and Fran were off their stools and dancing at that point. Colin, Spencer, and I had started our own little conversation about Col's job: he had just found out the day before that Burton was going to move his entire department out to L.A. He had to decide if he would go out there. If he didn't, he'd be out of a job.

Drifting falling
Floating weightless
Calling calling home...

Sitting there at Little Frankies I just couldn't imagine leaving the East Coast. Neither could Col. But good jobs in Burlington are scarce.

Fran said, "Why don't you just move to New York?"

"I'd move to New York," I said, quietly acknowledging the surge of unease resurface in my belly. "I'd much rather move to New York than L.A. If I had to choose."

When I think about what inspires me, one thing that comes to mind is place. Or places. That's why one of the reasons I've been in such a funk over the idea of L.A. In my gut, I'm just not drawn to that particular place. Not like I'm drawn to Provence or Vermont or New York. Still I could imagine myself living on the beach somewhere in Orange County, writing my book, hanging with Poopy, never missing a blog posting...but then there's the freeway and how would I ever get from here to there on foot?

Sunday morning and time to go home. I always leave New York feeling nostalgic. It's a sad kind of nostalgia. I'm reluctant to leave, yes, but I think the sad nostalgia is also due to an emptiness that falls in place after living and breathing concrete soul for two days. It's not a fantastic feeling, but there's a residual guilty pleasure tacked in there too.

Because the fact is, I love New York. I love watching the streets and storefronts whiz by as we make our way back to the good old Green Mountain State. Back to work. Back to kitty. Back to daily life. But what if this New York were my daily life? The sidewalks and Cafe Mogador. Spencer and Courtney living next door... I just don't know yet. Col's still in limbo with his job and I'm feeling an uneasy excitement at what's in store.

For now though, I'm just fine and dandy in Vermont.

california dreaming

L.A. is the ubiquitous city these days. Not that I even asked for it… it’s just turned out that way. I’ve never even been to L.A., to California. My assumptions rely heavily on second-hand information. “It’s kind of like Florida, only bigger.” Would you move there if you had the choice? I need more information.

My sister moved there in December. At the time, it seemed glamorous, albeit slightly scary. That same month, Bon Appetit ran a fabulous article on the great eating there, the trendy restaurants, the green markets, the decadent pastries. And then of course, there’s Hollywood and Rodeo Drive and Laguna Beach. Whereas New York was always the it city in my mind, L.A. was showing some promise. Would I move out there if I had the choice? I still need more information.

It took Hannah days to find a coffee shop. Granted, she’s outside of L.A. But still.

I don't think Hannah specifically asked for L.A. but now's she's got it. And now. Now, it's my turn to answer the L.A. question. What if I were asked to move there? I probably won’t be, but it’s looking like there’s a very slight chance I might be asked to move there. Closer to one sister, but further away from the other. Away from my family, my beautiful Vermont, my little apartment. Would I go?

Whatever the case, three sisters are still separated by an entire country. An entire country. It might as well be an entire world.