I don't know how I ended up here. In fact, sometimes I forget all of the shit that I have accomplished and defeated to get to this point and this place in my life. How did I end up in New York City in this small studio apartment writing this blog post about being in New York City? The city of the dreamers and the doers. I am very familiar with the aphorism "If you can make it in New York city, you can make it anywhere" and I must admit that it is not just some hyped expression to scare you, it is reality. It is my reality. Only the fearless, the brave, and the hungry pack up their shit and head to the nitty gritty streets of New York city with only a dream and a suitcase full of clothes of course.

 

   So again, I ask myself how did Akia, a 20 year old wild child who has never had shit, but a inclination to clothes end up in New York city? Well, I packed up my shit and purchased a one-way ticket to LaGuardia airport. I had never been out of the state of Florida other than my birthplace, Alabama. I had never been on an airplane. I did not have a place to live. I had no idea how I would pay tuition. I trusted my intuition and went with my gut feeling. I was fearless, I was brave, I was hungry. I moved to New York without a lot of things, but I had a dream of running around the city in Christian Louboutin pumps and an Alexander McQueen dress attending countless meetings with important people and returning to my pent house on Fashion Avenue to have a class of red wine, kick my feet up, and get lost in the city lights from my window. Hell of a dream right? It is that dream that gets me out of bed at 6 a.m. 7 days a week. Do not get me wrong, everyday is not a stroll on Fashion Avenue. New York City is constantly weeding out the weak from the strong. Even the strong are sometimes ripped apart and spit out by the city. It is all about how far you are willing to challenge yourself to pursue your dreams. After all, my goal is to have breakfast on Fashion Avenue.