The other day I saw Anna Wintour
The other day, I saw Anna Wintour. Or at least I think I did.
I walked to the Metropolitan Museum with nothing but time on my watch. It was the weekend; Sun had graciously grazed my legs down busy intersections between streets and avenues for several blocks. This was before a rainy Monday followed; clear skies and smizing eyes greeted bare thighs, short shorts, and an athletic shirt. I was not particularly dressed for such a museum. Though, I did not let this deter me from discovering what exhibits were inside. I bought tickets well in advance and walked past the security point with ease. The luxurious building with infinity skies and carved heavenly mantle on the brims and along the walls was pristine. I walked in slowly to revel in the moment’s beauty. My Nikes on the steps of royalty where red carpets would lay in less than 24 hours. My sweat couture.
My first few stops were in the African Origin Anthology sector, an exhibit that features many wonderful works, with a central focus on civilization in Egypt. I took a few pictures of the men featured in the museum. With features that reminded me of my friends. One grandeur body, in particular, stood out to me. Carved in stone, I looked at his torso. It had a flat belly with a slender waist that was more feminine than masculine. I enjoyed the piece’s medium. The basalt skin was a sexy matte black. I had hoped to gain some insight through the exhibition, but what I received more than anything was appreciation. Not in the singular sense of my identity but of humanity as a whole. The diaspora that exists in Africa is not unibody, not in language, race, identity, religion, skin complexion, nor dialect.
My mind drifted to a woman I had met during a museum trip a week prior. A pharmacist from Nigeria with the most beautiful smile and demeanor. She reminded me so deeply of my mother. I lifted my head to colors of beige faces, black faces, brown eyes, coral plates, pieces, and jewelry. I felt a tinge of pain in my lower back that day from lugging my luggage. I took my thoughts with me to the next room and forged on.
The discomfort did not deter me from exploring. I had to be in the Met, taking in its wondrous exhibits. I walked up hidden stairs, to statues, carved from marble, ceramic artifacts from history ever present before me. I could not help but feel proud of where I was and who I am. At that moment I stood as myself, free in the world, experiencing history, thinking of love, sex, and those who came before me. I continued up the steps and saw a collector’s item, A$AP Rocky’s quilt wrap he wore to the Met Gala last year. It was surreal to be in front of something so adorned. I snapped a few pictures and added them to my New York album. My eyes wandered to the outdoor garden in the Asian Exhibit that looked like a scene from Kyoto, Japan. I was in awe of the replica’s ode, the wood, clean cemented tiles, greenery, and a flowing pond. I felt as if I were in Japan again. I stayed in that moment for a while before walking alongside its perimeter, feeling the weight of my back once again, then eventually heading to the indoor cafe for one snack before making my way to Yotel.
I had walked till nearly closing time, and with only half an hour to spare I took in a final glimpse of the Met before departing. As I walked to the exit, a woman in large shades rushed passed me. The security briefly acknowledged her without saying another word. I did a second take and saw the snakeskin boots and signature bob. It was my first encounter with someone with whom money so heftily flows. She casually entered into the building with purpose. One $70 million woman grazed my shoulder, the height of which she came to.
Money is a unique enterprise, and I felt it increasingly so in New York; the diaspora of comfort, accessibility of culture, and time. My weekend trip to New York up to that moment and the rest of the evening was spent in Manhattan, the epicenter of New York as far as I am concerned. Queens is another borough with its own space, faces, and stories. It houses and has housed close friends of mine, whose conversations would be kept sacred in Sunnyside the following day. There are areas in Queens dedicated to looking across the river to Manhattan, and it is quite surreal. New York is a wonder, and I’m so grateful I had the opportunity to walk that bridge and visit the Met.
