Getting Lost Between the Moon and New York City
I know it's crazy...
Have you ever gotten lost in New York City?
I have. Not the kind of lost where you miss a turn or can’t find your subway stop. I mean the good kind. The magical kind. The kind where you lace up your comfiest sneakers on the perfect spring day and wander into possibility.
To start this story, we need to rewind.
If you had asked 8-year-old me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have told you: a singer-slash-actress. My childhood playdates were full productions—belting out The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and stomping to It’s a Hard Knock Life like I was Annie herself.
My theatrical debut came thanks to the legendary Ms. Vandecar—my elementary school music teacher and personal hero. By 10, I was Nancy in Oliver Twist, and soon after, Lucy in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. I lived for the stage. The lights, the costumes, the transformation.
By the time I graduated high school, those dreams were packed away. Why? That’s a story for another day.
Fast-forward thirty-some years.
I’m recently divorced, six months out, and scrolling for something—anything—that might help me feel a little more like...me. I see a webinar hosted by Amy Reinhart, a fellow member of Chief, a women’s leadership network I belong to. The title? Finding Your Zhoosh After Divorce.
Zhoosh? I didn’t know what it was exactly, but I knew I didn’t have it.
Amy’s a natural. Like, she-should-have-her-own-talk-show kind of natural. She introduces Sue Zarco Kramer—a Brooklyn-based screenwriter, producer, and all-around creative force. She studied at UCLA (my childhood dream school) and now calls herself the “Divorcée Doula.” Because yes, “divorcée” just sounds better than “divorced.”
Sue tells her story and how she turned post-divorce survival into an opportunity for rebirth. Something that helped women not just heal, but glow. Helping women get their zhoosh back. We’re talking confidence. Style. A little glam. A new vibe. Therapy for your closet, your skincare routine, your self-esteem.
And there I was, wondering… how do you reclaim something you never really had?
I met my ex-husband when I was 16. I didn’t have zhoosh then. I had oversized glasses, I loathed my body, and there was that internal monologue that wouldn’t let up. But this idea of rediscovering myself? I was intently listening.
Amy announced the next event a Red-Carpet Beauty Day in NYC. At first, I hesitated. This was not my thing. But maybe... it could be? I registered for the event.
I almost canceled—more than once. After a few well-timed nudges from my inner circle, I stuck with it. Then, after connecting with Sue, she talked me into staying an extra day for a one-on-one styling session. Was I being impulsive? Maybe. A little crazy? Also, possible. I had just gotten a nice tax refund. Clearly, this was God giving me a sign. Right?
Day 1: The Red Carpet
I arrived at Bobbi Brown’s flagship Jones Road Beauty store on Madison Avenue—first one there, naturally. We’d been told to come without makeup. Naked, basically.
Not exactly my comfort zone.
That hesitation faded fast. The makeup artist worked her magic, and suddenly there I was sporting a fresh, natural glow. Soft, effortless, and exactly the kind of look Jones Road is known for.
Next stop: Onda Beauty in Tribeca—owned by former fashion editor Laurissa Thomson. We talked skincare, we sipped, we learned. I left with a glowing bag full of products.
Then came the finale: Sugar Cookies, a speakeasy-style lingerie boutique. Appointment-only. Discreet. Empowering. A sacred space just for us. Because sometimes, reclaiming yourself means shopping for beautiful things no one else sees.
Day 1: Complete.
Day 2: The Transformation
First up: hair.
Sue sent me to Jenna Perry Hair Studio, where I was styled by Guillaume—a French genius who works on Christy Turlington and Barbara Corcoran. No big deal.
“I’m going to make your hair more interesting,” he said. And he did.
Then we hit the stores—Sue in full directorial mode. At Reiss, she introduced me as her client. She described the exact pant leg and blazer cut she envisioned. Garments flew into the fitting room. I stepped out in a silky blouse and perfectly tailored suit, and Sue stood—tea in hand—looked me over and said, “Oh yeah.”
She taught me how to pose like it was second nature. I had a red-carpet stance by lunch.
From there, we hit Ulla Johnson, Buck Mason, Caddis, Clare V., Paige, Bloomingdale’s... store after store, block after block, building the new me. Piece by piece.
By the end of the spree, I was buzzing. Not just from the shopping—but from the experience of being seen, guided, styled, and celebrated.
The Speakeasy Surprise
Just when I thought the day was done, Sue said, “Let’s grab dinner. I know a place.”
Of course she did.
We walked up to an unassuming restaurant, greeted by a man in a black suit guarding a red velvet rope. Very Gossip Girl.
Sue gave her name. Not on the list. He flipped pages. Still not there.
“I have a reservation,” she insisted. Calm, cool, maybe a little annoyed.
She said a name—quietly. A whisper of clout. He straightened up. “We can seat you at the bar.”
Past the velvet rope. Through the restaurant. Down a hallway. Down the stairs. Around a corner...
Boom.
A candlelit grotto. Music bouncing. Laughter echoing. Cocktails glowing. The scene was pulsing with energy and life.
We toasted. We laughed. We cried. A man named Romeo introduced himself. (Of course he did.) We shared stories. And just when I thought we’d head home, Sue looked at me and said:
“You’re dancing.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You are.”
So, I did.
Dancing. In an underground speakeasy. In New York City. With strangers.
Lost in the city. Found in the moment.
Who was I?
When you get caught between the moon and New York City…
That song came out just two days before I turned nine. Yes, 8-year-old me, when I was dreaming of stardom—of spotlights and red carpets and a life that sparkled.
And here I was, all these years later, having a moment that somehow gave me all of that and more. Maybe not the same way, but one that was more than I could have imagined.
