Part of why I chose to live in Brooklyn was to start fresh. To avoid walking past this building or that and think “oh, that used to be…”
But nostalgia comes anyway. Sometimes because I go looking for it. Case in point: Stingy Lulu’s. It was my spot.
I hung out there a ton circa 1995-97. My good friend S, who I knew from college, and I went there often, usually weekly. We got to know one of the staff members pretty well, a M-to-F transgender who went by Harlow. I usually drank a cocktail with pureed strawberries and cheap Champagne. It all seemed so exotic then. Continue reading