The Crazy Salad essays gave me what I was looking for: a more humorous, outsider's interpretation of Us feminism in the 1970s
It was hot, clammy and claggy, in only the way New York can be in August, and I had just moved back to the city after living in London for more than 20 years. Finally unable to bear my oven of a flat any longer, I decided to explore my new neighbourhood and stepped out on to the pavement, which swam before my eyes in the heat and was entirely empty, as every other right-thinking New Yorker had either left the city or was lying prostrate in front of their air conditioner. I wandered around for as long as I could bear it before flinging myself into a little shop I barely looked at save for noticing it had a blessed air conditioner in the window.
It turned out...
It was hot, clammy and claggy, in only the way New York can be in August, and I had just moved back to the city after living in London for more than 20 years. Finally unable to bear my oven of a flat any longer, I decided to explore my new neighbourhood and stepped out on to the pavement, which swam before my eyes in the heat and was entirely empty, as every other right-thinking New Yorker had either left the city or was lying prostrate in front of their air conditioner. I wandered around for as long as I could bear it before flinging myself into a little shop I barely looked at save for noticing it had a blessed air conditioner in the window.
It turned out...
- 8/6/2013
- by Hadley Freeman
- The Guardian - Film News
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