Tag Archives: New York City

As Eva Gabor Said – “Dahling I Love You but Give Me Park Ave.”

23 May

In all of my crazy running this week, I forgot to mention the winners of my book giveaway contest!  They are:

Laura D (also wins “Most Creative” by having her kid pose with an I Love Madge sign on Twitter)

Jon Jefferson


Lisa S


Yes… TurdBoy

Some of you, I don’t know your real names, just user names so, ya’ know that’s what I go with.  Please email me your shipping address to margaretfmadigan@gmail.com.  I will also try to contact those folks through their FB’s and Twitter and junk.


The rest of you… Today only! Use this code – KZHZAWP8 and get 50% OFF, that’s HALF OFF my book… at this website – https://www.createspace.com/3819159   HURRY!  BUY NOW!


Ok, just a quick pictorial today.  I went to pick my son up at NYU to bring him home for the summer.  Do you have a place where you feel most at home, alive, or at peace?  Most of you feel that way say in the mountains, or maybe your lakeside cabin, or camping, fishing, church, whatever.  Me?  It’s New York City.  I can’t explain it.  There I feel… normal.  I just do.  I have this weird feeling of peace and happiness and like I belong.  I’m going to live there someday.  When I become a wealthy author and my last child gets out of high  school in 4 years.  I’m gone.  Oh maybe I’ll spend part of my summers in Rochester too, it gets a little gritty during NY summers.

Anyway, here are a few pics and what makes me happy.  I didn’t take much but well… here they are:



Had dinner and drinks with my high school friend and NY Times Best Selling author Wendy Corsi Staub.  Go to her website here, awesome selection of books!





My son Jack and I at dinner with Wendy at B Bar and Grill, 4th Ave. and Bowery.




Inside the door of a coffee shop we went to later in Cooper Square.  Who brings spray paint to a coffee shop?




More of the bathroom.  I love graffiti laden walls, it’s such a slice of life.  And the writing in there was very deep, not like “Jenny is a slut” type stuff.




My boy somewhere around Cooper Square.




Mackelmore’s hit “Thrift Shop” is all the rage.  But thrift shopping in NYC is totally different than anywhere else.  Here is a Betsey Johnson dress still too expensive for me even in a thrift shop.  To. Die. For.




A Lilly Pulitzer dress in the same thrift store.  A size 2… who the fuck wears that?!  Also still too expensive.  *sad face*



My son ended up buying me this coat that I fell in love with for $45 marked down from $165.  From the tags inside it appears to be custom made in the late 50s/early 60s with a real full collar and 3/4 sleeves.   It needs to be taken in just a little but I love it, it’s perfect.  My son said it was an early birthday present (June 11), isn’t he amazing?




The old St. Anne’s Church facade in front of my son’s dorm.




Freshman dorm.




Goodbye Freshman dorm.




A closer look at the facade.


When I go back in August I’ll take more.  I just live in the moment and forget to take pictures but I’ll try to remember to do so, that way I can always carry the pieces of NY I love with me until I can live there for good.

Where is a place that makes you feel most at home/peace?


Untold Freak Hipster Shenanigans of Madge…

26 Mar

I have a new little guilty pleasure.  Every Monday night I sit down and watch “The Carrie Diaries” with my two teenage daughters.  You know it’s that sort of pre-Sex and the City “Carrie Bradshaw – The Wonder Years” kind of thing.  Her in her teens in 1984.  The girls like it because it involves teenagers and it shows them what life was like for Mom when she was in high school and college.

For me… it reminds me that I’ve actually lead a pretty interesting life.  For instance, in the show Carrie somehow finagles an internship at Interview magazine.  Interview magazine was founded in 1969 by Andy Warhol.  Very artsy, very hip.  Now Interview magazine was my bible when I was in college 1983-1987.  I had a subscription and used to save all the issues under my bed.  I had stacks of them.  I must have thrown them out when moving out of college.  😦  The same thing with the Village Voice, the iconic New York City newspaper.  Had stacks under my bed.  No idea where they went.  Even though I was in college in Maine, I was a New York City hipster at heart.


I would have given my left nut (wait, what?) to live Carrie’s life back then.  Sans, the fabulousness because I was a punk/new wave hipster back in the day.  The days before hipster became douchie.  However today I could do the fabulous, I already do.  Hey girl hey!  Yes, Carrie is a fictional character but that’s the life I dreamed of back then.  I won’t lie, I still dream about it.  If I hit it big right now, I’d move to NY in a heartbeat.  Live in the Village but try to avoid my son at NYU so I wouldn’t cramp his style.  It would be a little creepy for Mom to crash his fraternity kegger.

So yea, once upon a time I was cutting edge.  I was a radio DJ.  The name of my show was “Soaking in it with Madge”.  The ole Madge the Manicurist Palmolive reference, get it?  Ok, back then it was relevant.  I went to gay clubs before it was cool because they had the best music.  Dude, seriously nowhere else could you dance to “Kiss Me” by Tin Tin?  They didn’t even play that on the radio!

Speaking of gay clubs… did I ever tell you about the first (and only) time I was introduced to a hardcore gay club?

So, I worked at a summer camp near Pittsfield, MA in the Berkshires during college.  Which in itself is a whole other slew of stories.  It was a camp for young Jewish girls from the NYC area (and FL), none of us counselors were Jewish.  The girls were all wealthy self-proclaimed JAPs (Jewish American Princesses).  Again, for another time…

So on one of our nights off one of our friends took a few days off and we needed to go pick her up at the train station in Springfield at like 11pm.  Turns out her train was late and we needed to kill some time.  So there were about I think 6 of us girls and one obviously gay guy (Larry the theater counselor).  We girls all had funky asymmetrical haircuts and wore boxer shorts for shorts and had boxer shoes with scrunchy socks.  I’m sure we looked like freaks.

We were walking down the street looking for a place to sit and have a drink.  So we ask this very friendly black guy with a giant afro with a fro pick sticking out the back what was open for a drink.  He says “Oh oh yea, I know what you guys are looking for”.  So we follow him to this restaurant, and we figure oh great perfect.  No, he says follow me.  We go down a back hallway, turn a corner, go down a flight of stairs, down another hall, 2 more flights of stairs, hallway… and enter a dank basement.  I’m thinking we’re going to die, but we turn a corner and what’s there?  A bar with a tranny bartender, a makeshift dance floor with bare lightbulbs hanging down, bare chested men in biker and S&M gear with thick mustaches grinding on each other.  It sounds cliche’ but I thought I was in a Village People video.  We were actually kind of in heaven because it was a buffet of people watching.

Then somebody grabs us and says, “Oh no we think you want to be back here”.  We follow them down another hallway, passed a guy pressing another guy dressed as a woman up against the wall and fondling his/her junk (it wasn’t such a good tuck and tape job).  We get to this back room and it’s all women.  Yup, very butchy, shaved head, Members Only jacket wearing women.  Uhhhh, I guess we’ve been brought to the lesbian room.  Funny, we alterna-girls did look a bit like the crowd in that room but none of us were lesbians.  There was lots of masculine-type posturing and leering.  No offense ladies, but the other room was a bit more entertaining.

Finally we decide we need to go pick up our friend.  Our one friend Jill from Texas who was quite goofy and loud was like “No y’all I’m havin’ fun!”  She kept asking people to dance, I thought we were going to get our asses kicked.  Not sure if she thought it was a novelty or was kind of mocking the lesbians in asking them to dance, but either way you just don’t want to mess with that.  We drag her out.  A tranny starts to follow us, I think he/she wanted to hang.  He/she was strung out on something, we didn’t want to be saddled with that so we ran.

And ran all the way to the train station.  Laughing our asses off.  It was only 1984, that story probably doesn’t sound like much by today’s standards but it was a complete freak show that people didn’t know existed by 1984 standards.

When I think about it… my life still consists of some pretty strange/fun events like that.  I was hesitant to tell about them, having kids and all.  But then my friends started asking me “How come you never mention us in your blog?”.  Hmmmm, maybe because you all belong to a country club, own companies or are CEOs, have children and don’t really think it’s right to talk about the time we all went swimming in our underwear at a party, or parked the car in the bushes, or drunkenly tried to crawl on top of a golf cart and hit a shot from there, or during a golf outing stole a cart and took off down East Ave. to visit a friend across the street, or broke several glasses at the club trying to do the “pull the tablecloth out from under the dishes” trick.  (that was a huge run-on sentence, but for effect)  But ok, I’ll mention all that stuff if you want?  Next time… 🙂

However it does beg the question… if I write for entertainment and have some great juicy stories, at what point can I/should I tell them without worrying about my kids?  16?  18?  21?  You tell me…

I’ll Be The Old Woman Carrying Booze Around In a Hot Water Bottle

28 Aug

I’m a freak.  Always have been, always will be.  But I like it.  No, I really love it.  Sometimes I forget that I’m a freak and I have to go back to my roots and things I love to remind myself.

I went to New York City this weekend to take my son to college at NYU.  I’m beginning to think that him going to NYU is going to benefit me every bit as much as it will him.  I feel alive.  Incredibly alive, when I go to the city.  I was born and raised near Buffalo and then lived most of my adult life in Rochester (minus 6 years in Denver).  I’ve been going to NY since I was a kid.  My Mother’s family all still lived where my Mom was raised in the Philly/NJ/NY triad.  Then during the summers when I was in college in the early/mid 80s, I worked at a camp in Western Massachusetts and we would spend all of our days off in NY.  Believe it or not, I was one of those Uptown meets Downtown kids hanging out in Washington Square Park with a boombox.  I was always a punk/new wave/fringe kid that could also don the pearls for a sorority soiree’.

Now my son is going to school on Washington Square Park.  And funny, going there now and looking in the stores, the 80s are back in.  Oy.  I’m having flashbacks.  I never thought this would happen to me in a million years.  Hey, and I never pushed my son to go there, I actually really wanted him to go to Cornell.  lol  But, maybe things happen for a reason.  Yea, I know things happen for a reason.

I stroll down the streets of the West Village and I see these women in their 70s that are wearing big funky colorful eyeglasses that look like Jackie O. at the Gay Pride parade.  They also happen to be wearing get ups that look like Carmen Miranda wearing combat boots. I WANT TO BE THAT LADY!

I just want to be quirky and adventurous and intellectual and and artsy and hip and eccentric.  I’m a little too young to be eccentric and I think I could only get away with the Combat Carmen look when I’m a senior citizen but I want to be an eccentric in training.  I want to be a 40 something outrageous Mae West meets Betsey Johnson (a fashion designer known for her whimsical/urban/new wave style).  I want to be sexy, sassy, funny, and hip.  Not douchie hip like those “Gallery Girls” on Bravo TV that I want to punch in the face, but just like, in the know on what’s trending and popular, maybe slightly ahead of the curve, but not pretentious about it.  I’ll sit in a neighborhood dive bar in the Village and trade funny stories for cocktails.  Make no mistake, I get the cocktails, they get the funny stories.

Betsey Johnson

Mae West

I gotta’ be me.  I always dreamed of living in New York City.  Not sure where that dream derailed.  Oh yea, I remember, I made a misguided decision at the end of college.  I decided to go the safe route, instead of striking out on my own in the big city.  Of course I didn’t have a job or money either.  I probably could have found some friends to live with.  Oh well, what can I do?  I took a different path.  As kids are getting older, I now have an opportunity to reinvent myself.  Maybe not reinvent,  just go back to my true self.  And my true self involves kicking ass and taking names… mostly those of garage band members and drag queens.

So… round two.  Maybe I get another chance to be true to my heart and soul?  Maybe I get another chance to be outrageous?  I have friends in the art world.  I have friends in bands.  I’ve been trying to slowly build my wardrobe back to eclectic.  I’m happy I got back to my roots and found some black and bedazzled cat eye sunglasses, that was my trademark back in college.  Ah if only I had money…  Looks like it’s fetish films for me, right gang?  Give me enough vodka and I can do it!  Fact is, I just need to get back to me somehow.

But this time I do things right.  This time around I will write more and find more career opportunities, I’ll get drunk but I won’t get that drunk, I won’t sell myself short with men, and I will have more confidence, self respect, and calculated drive.  Don’t get any ideas, I wasn’t a drunken lazy whore in my youth, I just uh well you know made a few poor choices along the way.  Shit happens.  *nervous laugh*

I keep telling my kids “You have to make things happen”.  When they whine about “Nobody is calling me to do anything.”, I tell them “Then you need to get on the phone and initiate an activity, try to get a group together to go to a movie or something”.  If they whine about not being selected for things at school or having trouble in a class, I tell them to go talk to the teacher, ask them what you did wrong, and what you can do going forward.  Don’t just sit back and wait for the universe, get off your tush and  grab the universe by the shirt collar and say, “Hey, I’m over here pal, where are we goin’?!”  Well it’s time to take my own advice.  So watch for me, I’ll be the famous writer lady in Doc Martens with a fruit bowl on her head.   Ay dios mio… hey ho, let’s go!

Oh, and please don’t forget to share this and like this and follow me here and all that good stuff!  Thanks loads!

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