6 months in New York

Today marks 6 months in New York. Well, more like 6 months and 2 hours. Kassie and I arrived at Lindsay’s apartment in Brooklyn around 10pm on the night of July 9th.

I didn’t realize that until this moment—as I wrote that date—that it’s the same date Taylor Swift wrote about in “Last Kiss” (don’t worry—I’ll update this link to Taylor’s Version as soon as it debuts):

“That July 9th:
The beat of your heart—
It jumps through your shirt.
I can still feel your arms,
But now I’ll go sit on the floor,
Wearing your clothes.
All that I know is
I don’t know how to be something you miss.
I never thought we’d have a last kiss.
Never imagined we’d end like this;
Your name, forever the name on my lips”

My July 9th felt very different—an adventure, an arrival—but it also felt similarly because leaving and breaking up are both different sides of the same coin of grief. But sometimes endings look strangely like beginnings. It’s why I have a sunrise and sunset mirrored on my finger. Even in the beauty of a beginning is the necessary grief of the parallel ending. 

And the last 6 months have been this dance of loss and gain. Loss of sleep, gain of friends. Loss of one job, gain of another. Losses and gains of weight and stress and money. I’m learning to value the calm and the steady: the fresh air and a friendly face and a sunny day.

No choice or change is without loss or opportunity cost, but you have to decide what’s worth it, even if you don’t know the ending. Because you never really know the ending. All you can do is factor in everything you know and lean into the feeling of what you hope for, believing it exists. This is true for love, for adventures, for new cities and new dreams. 

So I think all I can truly ask myself after 6 months is: has it been worth it? And all I can reply is the cliche of a resounding YES.

*And I’m posting this a day late because I watched the new season of Search Party and had dinner with friends and forgot about posting this, which really speaks more to the goodness of life than any photo, don’t you think?

photo by my friend Michael on a good day

Harry Styles, Love on Tour New York: Fan Fashion

Over the pandemic, I thought a lot and wrote a little about the way fans shape a concert experience. That’s why livestreams—while a creative shift during a difficult season—weren’t the same. So much of a live music experience is in the way we experience it together. Even if you show up alone, you aren’t alone, not really. 

I knew this intellectually, but it didn’t really set in fully until I went to a One Direction dance party about a month ago. 

There was no band there, just a DJ, but everyone still dressed up. In some ways, they dressed up even more than they would at a One Direction show because there was no chance that any band member would see them, so they could be their funnest, nerdiest fan selves. They showed up in the most unique shirts and outfits and they showed up ready to dance. I think this is fan culture and community at its best and most pure and most beautiful.

My friend Maggie and I ended up at the back of the room and to our right was a group of friends. I don’t even remember the song, but at one point they put their arms around each other, singing and dancing and and jumping and swaying. Tonight. Together. Happy. Alive.

I knew I was going to write this story for this blog post after that dance party. Then this morning I woke up to a video of the Kiwi Pit. Watch this and tell me it’s not about the feeling, it’s not about being together, it’s not about the midnight memories we make dancing together to the best song ever (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

This post is divided into titled sections and there’s information at the very bottom about how to get ahold of me if you see yourself in one of the photos or if you’d like to hire me! Thank you for reading, for showing up, for dancing.

Close-Ups

Some folks had an accessory or wardrobe highlight or tattoo that really popped and they were kind enough to say “yes” when I asked for an extra photo.

Sign(s) of the Times

The Power of Harry Lambert

A quick aside: I asked the folks above for a photo, assuming they were all friends and coordinated this look. When I finished shooting, I asked them if they planned it. Not only did they not plan it, but they didn’t even know each other! They literally just randomly ended up in line together—the odds!

If you’re new here, Harry Lambert is Harry Styles’ stylist and one of the top people I’d want to work with someday (if you’re reading this, please email me: estorie@outlook.com!). I studied styling and really respect his eye and the way he can put together a unique outfit that embodies what’s next. Innovation and creativity. That’s the thing.

He was the one who put Harry in the iconic leather suit and boa outfit at the Grammy’s. That look was worn one single night and Harry hasn’t been spotted in a boa since. But you wouldn’t believe how many boas I saw outside Madison Square Garden. That man’s power to influence an entire generation of fashion! We love to see it.

One of the other iconic looks he’s revived is 70’s-style pants (and pantsuits) that we have seen on Harry Styles since his 2017-2018 tour.

Last but not least, Harry Lambert styled Harry Styles in the now-Tik-Tok-viral JW Anderson cardigan. Harry Styles wore this look on Good Morning America in late 2019. Shortly after, the pandemic hit and homebound fans took to learning knitting and crocheting, teaching themselves how to make this cardigan. Instead of getting annoyed at the imitations or trying to shut them down, the brand instead responded with gratefulness, thanking fans and even releasing their exact pattern to make creating it even easier! That’s really treating people with kindness, am I right?

Fan-Made

No shade to Harry Styles & co., but the Harry Styles fan-made merch consistently blows the “official” merch out of the water. If you spend any amount of time on Harry Styles (or One Direction) Tik Tok, you’re bound to see creative stickers, phone cases, necklaces, shirts, and sweaters. Please link me to your favorite creators by commenting below so I can go Christmas shopping for my sister!

To Be So Lonely

Just kidding, I don’t think going anywhere alone has to be lonely. Honestly, it can be pretty fun! As someone who has gone to a lot of concerts alone, I have so much respect for the folks who love something enough to show up alone, all dressed up and ready to dance in a crowd full of strangers. It’s a unique sort of bravery and vulnerability. And that’s far more beautiful than lonely.

Two Pretty Best Friends

I would like to submit these images as proof that two pretty best friends do indeed exist.

'Cause your friends,
They look good and you look better

Name that song!

Berries (and Watermelons and Bananas) and Cream!

If you’re wondering why “she’s dressed as a banana,” just watch this.

The End

If you’ve made it this far, thank you!

If you let me take your photo, thank you for trusting me. If you’re simply reading this, thank you for gifting me with your time. It’s our most irreplaceable individual resource and it means a lot to know you’d spend some of yours with me and my stories and my art.

If you see your face in this post and would like a copy of that photo, please email me at estorie@outlook.com. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting cheerful and excited dm’s! Send away—I love meeting y’all! But for more logistical things like getting you your photo, email is more effective: dm’s get buried super easily and we don’t want that. Let me know which photo is you and I’ll send it to you as soon as I can! Feel free to use it on social media, but please caption-tag me (@estorie on Instagram, @estorieco on Twitter, and @estoriethegirl on Tik Tok—yes, I wish bots didn’t snatch my matching handles, too). If you want to use it anywhere else (publications, promotional material, anything published online or in a physical form, etc.), just shoot me an email and we can talk details. Sound good?

If you enjoyed this post and would like to work with me, the same is true. Just send me an email: estorie@outlook.com! I’m available for articles, portraits, live music shoots, street style—and whatever other ideas you might have.

If you enjoyed this post (start-to-finish, all of this—shooting, culling, editing, writing, uploading—took about 10 hours!) and would like to support me as an artist, my venmo is @estorie! Thank you!

Gracie Abrams: New York, Night 1

Keep scrolling for more photos!

The best part of my job is that I’m simultaneously an observer and a participant in something beautiful. It’s like being a bridesmaid. It’s not your wedding, but you’re there and you’re somehow part of it: a spectator and an observer, but you’re also bringing value to the moment by being there. Your gaze, your presence, the way you show up in that place and bear witness: it matters. And that’s what I remind myself. My gaze, my presence, how I show up in that place and how I interact and how I carry my camera and how I use my eyes: it matters.

That is really the only way that being a music photographer is like being a bridesmaid. I’ve definitely never shot a show in a floor-length dress from David’s Bridal (if you know, you know). But I’m there, holding the figurative space between being part of it and being outside of it; and holding the physical space between the stage and the crowd; and holding my camera and sometimes holding my breath. However, you better believe I’m singing along (if I know the song) or dancing or sometimes crying, all while working. If you went to any of the All-American Rejects shows a couple summers ago, you definitely saw me skipping and hollering “Swing, Swing” along with the crowd while I worked. I’m not part of the crowd—not really—but I’m in it and what I’m doing changes the way you’ll remember the night. Or at least that’s my hope. I carry a lot of hope into those dark rooms. Most of my hope is found in the humans. Most of my hope is for my age peers and for those that are coming up after us. It’s for the dancers and the outcasts, the ones who show up to shows alone and who are brave enough to say “hello” to the person next to them.

Since the Gracie Abrams show was pit-free and I had the time, I showed up early so I wouldn’t be that photographer who shows up late and tries to cut the whole line—and then gets stuck standing next to those same bummed or angry fans all evening. No one likes that experience so I try to avoid it as much as I possibly can by getting there early and waiting it out with everyone else. Drew Barrymore said something yesterday that I just can’t shake. She began: “I care what people think [of me]”—she paused and corrected herself: “No, I care how people feel.”

And there is the nuance. You can do everything right in your career and sometimes people just won’t like you because of your haircut or the color you highlight a spreadsheet or something equally miniscule. You can’t control how people perceive you and to the degree you can’t control it, you can’t hold it too tightly. But how people feel around you—while you also can’t really control their feelings—you can control the way you treat them with kindness (yes, cue Harry Styles). So that’s the kind of career I want to live. It’s taken me a long time and I feel like I’m still on the runway, waiting to take off. But I also know that the people I’ve worked with have received beautiful images and I’ve gained their respect and that’s worth so much more than a quick fix. Kindness: it matters.

Since I was waiting anyways, I decided to do fan photos. It’s easily been 2 years since I’ve done them, really (shoutout to Covid for that). I still get nervous every time: it took me about 25 minutes to talk myself into it. But then I did and almost everyone said “yes.” The last gal just lit up, grinning, with the most enthusiastic “yes” I’ve heard. And then I remember why I do this: yes, it’s creativity, but it’s also the people, the connection, the being part of something big and beautiful. 

After photographing the fans all the way to the corner of Ludlow, I made my way back to my perch by the nail salon (cue Lorde). It wasn’t until I starting to shuffle towards the door that I realized (remembered really—I’ve thought of this before) that I’m just the right person for this. While, yes, it is hard sometimes to see yet another inexperienced dude get a huge tour while I’ve worked hard for a decade (cue Olivia Rodrigo: “jealousy, jealousy”—at this point I’ve cued enough songs, I probably should make an accompanying playlist), do you think the moms in line would let a random dude take a photo of their daughter? Probably not. I’m basically the size of a 15-year-old and as a result I’m way more approachable and way less intimidating. 

This thought always follows: there are spaces made and meant for me. I don’t even know all of them yet, but they exist and I won’t miss what’s mean for me. I will find myself and I will be found. And I’m here right now and that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. So here’s my reminder for you: you’re right where you’re supposed to be. There are opportunities and paths ahead of you that are shaped just the way you are made. You have not missed out on what’s meant for you. So dance through the sad songs and lean in because where you’re headed is golden.

Right at 6 when doors were supposed to open, someone walked by with their phone ringing. The ringtone? “I’ve got your picture, I’m coming with you, dear Maria count me in!” 

And somehow that song, that moment, as I walked into a dark room full of strangers, all holding the same songs behind their eyes and in their throats for a night: somehow it all feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be. If you ask me why I keep doing this work, why I exist in this musical periphery, this story, these moments, these are the reasons. The belonging, the becoming, the space between the crowd and the stage, the space between what I see in through my camera and what I share with the world. It’s beauty in the faces of the crowd and the beauty in the pauses between songs as the artist notices the crowd singing along and grins. It’s catching my breath and catching flickers of light and on lucky days, I get to catch flights, too. But mostly I hope we all catch a little bit of a reminder of the ways we are found and why we need each other. I hope we remember the feeling of everyone else singing along, of feeling less alone, even in our gentle sadnesses. There’s a beauty in those things, too, and maybe the beauty is found in not having to feel it alone, you know?

So here’s your last reminder: You belong here. You belong in the rooms you step into and you don’t have to earn that belonging. You are enough and you are not too much, no matter what feelings you carry today. There will always be songs for the feelings and rooms to dance in to those songs and there will always be someone else who feels the same way, I promise. We are all less alone than we feel and the way that 250 people realized that together on a Tuesday night: thank you for letting me photograph that feeling.

P.S. if you’re reading this and are like, “oh, hey, that’s a photo of me!” email me at estorie@outlook.com and I’ll send you your fan photo. We love to see it!