Our New Intern, Brett

We're in the process of hiring our spring interns, but we're already certain about one.

Brett, a freshman from FIT, will be starting with us in January, and we can't be more excited.

We just wanted to share Brett's writing sample, an essay on moving to New York (he's from Florida), because we thought it was so sensitive and true.

Enjoy!

Billy's Bakery

Like most of my favorite New York things, I was obsessed with Billy’s Bakery long before I had ever been there. My first recollection of it is from an article about pre-scientology Katie Holmes, in which she named it as one of her favorite places in the city. I visited the website regularly thereafter to salivate over the beautifully styled apple pie, hello dolly bars, and of course, the cupcakes for which they have become so famous. In my head, I created elaborate plotlines about the perfect day, and they always included trips to Bergdorf’s and Barneys, playing with the boats in Central Park, going ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, and having cupcakes at Billy’s. To me, it seemed that everyday in New York City would be like that: perfect and picturesque.

Billy's Bakery

Like most of my favorite New York things, I was obsessed with Billy’s Bakery long before I had ever been there. My first recollection of it is from an article about pre-scientology Katie Holmes, in which she named it as one of her favorite places in the city. I visited the website regularly thereafter to salivate over the beautifully styled apple pie, hello dolly bars, and of course, the cupcakes for which they have become so famous. In my head, I created elaborate plotlines about the perfect day, and they always included trips to Bergdorf’s and Barneys, playing with the boats in Central Park, going ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, and having cupcakes at Billy’s. To me, it seemed that everyday in New York City would be like that: perfect and picturesque.

When I actually moved to the city for college, I soon realized that no day could be that perfect. I didn’t have my mother’s credit card to finance regular trips to Madison Avenue, I didn’t know anyone to go with to race boats in the Park, and it was far too early for ice-skating (and thanks to Global warming, I worried that I would never succeed in doing so). But I did happen to live dangerously close to Billy’s Bakery.

So within days of my arrival at school, I made the first attempt in finding my personal holy grail. With address in hand, I started heading west in hopes of finding 184 9th Avenue. However, since I was utterly unfamiliar with my surroundings, I failed to realize that I had no cross street to use as a landmark, and as such, quickly lost faith and returned to the dorm.

The following day I was even more determined. I carefully googled the address once more, and verified on a map that there was in fact a 21st Street and I could reach it without a great deal of trouble. I walked down 8th until I reached 22nd and I turned onto 9th Avenue. And suddenly, the fragrance of butter cream frosting pervaded the air. I could see the tiny green signage. The perfectly aged mint benches greeted me from the sidewalk, and I knew that this would live up to my expectations where nothing else had. Here, I could separate myself from the Ugg-boot wearing, perma-tanned, Abercrombie and Fitch loving imbeciles that had disillusioned me of FIT. I walked inside.

I was immediately overwhelmed by the perfectly nostalgic tableau I observed inside. A “Clabber Girl” advertisement was hung on the wall. Formica tables and beat-up wood chairs cluttered the entryway. Convex display cases protected the almost-homemade desserts that resided within. A vintage stove stood off to one side for no reason whatsoever.

When I reached the front of the line, I quietly asked for two cupcakes, one chocolate, one vanilla, and was quickly rung up. I took the little white bag, grabbed napkins from the dispenser near the superfluous stove, and started to ignore the temptation to eat one (or both) on the way home.
When I reached my dorm, I took out the Vanilla cupcake, placed it squarely on a green Caspari napkin and took a picture. I knew I wanted to eat it with milk, so I ran (literally) down to Whole Foods and bought a bottle of Ronnybrook Farm Organic skim milk. While sitting at my desk, I began to eat as neatly as I possibly could. And in this way, I felt really happy to be living in New York for the first time.

The following Tuesday happened to be my birthday. I couldn’t be with my friends at NYU because our schedules where conflicting, and even worse I was separated from my Mom for the first time ever. So after my 2:00 class, I was starting to get the mean reds, and I knew I was going to cry unless I got my mind off the fact that I was lonelier than I had ever been. I knocked on Sam’s door and asked her if she would go to Billy’s with me because I wanted to have a birthday wish and I didn’t know if candles worked the day after. (Full disclosure: Sam is my R.A. but we had bonded over her awesome Miu Miu shoes). She grabbed her Paddington and we headed off to have cupcakes.

En route, we discussed people with astronomical amounts of money, Marc Jacobs, and a family friend who was blowing up houses (at age 12). I was starting to feel better even before the Butter Cream came, but that certainly put me in a different mood entirely. We walked in, picked out our cupcakes, and began to argue about who should pay. She reasoned that it was my birthday, and I should never pay on a birthday; but I said that I had invited her, and as such, I was honor-bound to pay. The man behind the counter decided for us when he told us that neither of us will be paying, and handed us an extra cupcake on the house. All we paid for was milk. I blew out my candles on that aforementioned mint-colored bench, and I was really happy again.

--BRETT KANE