What Do The City Girls Do?

Rumor has it, we're moving downtown. The we here isn't my little family, but rather my company.

Word at the water cooler is that my cube (or more likely my seat at the world's largest picnic table) will migrate from our plucky place next to a suburban mega mall through the worst daily traffic jam to the buzz word (and homicide) rich civic center. Apparently to attract a younger, more vibrant workforce in today's competitive environment, we need to be in the heart of the city.

The rumor is rooted in reality though, and over the past couple months, I've been trying to rein in my radical feelings about it. I've been through just about every phase of grief with the exception of acceptance. I've gone from denial to depression and back to denial again. But at this juncture I am trying to take that upward turn, assessing what it would actually feel like to be a commuter. And more specifically a woman commuter. Because let's face it; the norm here in Mayberry is for Dad to take the train every day.

So I've started to do some immersion intelligence. On Saturday, at an hour I normally reserve for reading in bed, I drove downtown to meet up with some girl friends for dinner. 

Winding down Lake Shore drive, flanked on one side by a black, abnormally warm Lake Michigan and the twinkling city lights on the other side, a glimmer of the civic romance I used to feel throughout my 20s fell onto my windshield. I remembered cab rides through the electricity of Times Square as I headed south of Houston; limos laced with bubbly floating beneath the neon lights of Las Vegas; a BMW escort around the soft glow of the Capitol Building and DC's luminous Monuments; and a walk that revealed the subversive lights of West Hollywood and the inner circles tucked into it. I used to live for these late night illuminations and the after hours that made them shine even brighter. 

It was 8:00 PM; the lights were just coming on; and I was still debating whether or not I would have been happier in bed. So then and there marked my first brush with reality. Dinner for city girls is (still) late. Really late. And given their frames, light. Really light. I wondered, if I couldn't even eat like a city girl, could I work like one?   

I was immediately reassured though when I walked into the Pump Room and saw what everyone else was drinking. Ah good. I'll have a French 75. Like her.
Oh this is just Champ.
Champ? What?
Champagne.
Ah. So close.

With drink in hand, I removed my swing coat as the others removed their cropped leather jackets. While I had left my house confident in the mid-tier designer labels I had chosen, I felt like I had suddenly exposed that I was the mom of the group. My red peplum, rosy cheeks, and teddy bear charms stood out in the dark crowd. The attire around the room and among my click was black and blacker. With criss cross straps, leather, fringe, leg, and Chanel to accent the ensemble.

The conversation was loud. And accented with F words. The girl Goss (ip) wasn't about corporate relocation, but about the who, when and WHY(?!) of a high profile wedding being called off. And on politics; let's just say I finally came face to face with some Trump supporters. Say no more. 

With all this said, I shared some great laughs, style tips, and toasts on Saturday night. I made it out until 11:30 PM! And with only six hours of sleep, I felt more alive on Sunday than I have in awhile. There is something about that young, dynamic city environment I guess ...   

... But the word's still out. So I'll keep doing my investigation while waiting to hear the fate of my office building.

What I do know now is that the girls in the city are definitely slimmer, sassier, and sleeker than us suburbanites; they are less sonorous and less subtle; smarter? Not convinced. And they're (mostly) single; at least that's the box they would check on their paperwork. But knowing where I was as a single in the city of Steel ten years ago, I know that most of them are patiently waiting till they can check the other box. And once they do; they'll move out to the burbs. And likely give up their city jobs.

The commute is everything to a working mom. Minimizing the distance between your desk and your kids doctor appointments, school plays, lacrosse games, hugs and kisses is one of the most critical factors in where we choose to work. And there's no amount of urban dynamism that could attract me away from the charmed proximity I have to my family every day.   

Which begs the next question ... could I live downtown? 

Lo.