New York, 1994

With Robin's passing this week I was reminded of so many little things that I'd forgotten long ago, like her laugh, infectious liveliness and love of Tweety Bird. But mostly I realized how much credit I owe her for teaching me about the city. When I recall my fish-out-of-water naivety during my first week in NYC, age 18, I remember that Robin was there, already flourishing and doing things her way. Immediately after meeting her, she swept me off to Patricia Field's outlandish shop on 8th Street to check out the once-a-year sale. From that point on, it was clear that Robin knew what was up. From clubs and guest lists, to the salons for her impeccable nails and eyebrows, to unmarked taxis in Harlem, to Polish pierogies and Italian desserts at the Feast of San Gennaro, Robin embraced the city life she dreamed of growing up an arm's reach away in New Jersey. She'd go through more hairstyles in a year than most people do in their lifetime, and was the first person I knew to get her tongue pierced; I remember how photos of that--now such a common sight--would blow people's minds back home back then. The girl loved music and dancing--"Maaary!," she'd squeal, when a Mary J. Blige song played--and was the first adventurous pioneer among us to make the move over to Brooklyn, which once seemed like such a distant, foreign land. The trio of Robin, Sonia and I were together for so many firsts in my life: our first apartment at 234 East 5th Street, my first trip to New Orleans, and a thousand important personal developments that I'd never divulge in a public forum. She was a huge gale force of person: driven and ambitious, fun and spontaneous. When the news came this week, I wanted to be there for the funeral and was heartsick that I might not make it. Then when I heard that she'd requested no funeral, and that her ashes be scattered over Ibiza, the nonstop party island that was her version of paradise, I laughed while tears jumped from my eyes: it was classic Robin to want to be in the center of the action and I was comforted by her determination to have things her own way. There was no classier Jersey girl than Robin, and the world is a lesser place without her. In loving memory of Robin Pelka, 1974-2009.