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About New York City

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

Images from Schlesinger Library

The story of Silver City Millie, as she referred to herself, is the story of one woman's personal tragedies and triumphs as an orphan, a Harvey Girl waitress on the Santa Fe railroad, a .

I gotta be real here – life is messy. My spa, a haven of calm in a frenzy of daily madness, has seen it all. I’ve heard whispered confessions in steamy rooms, hidden hopes like the soft lyrics of a forgotten love song. Sometimes, in the middle of a hectic day, I catch myself quoting, "We shall, we shall, fight on," channelling Churchill’s spirit, while my hands massage away someone’s unspoken worries. It humbles and maddens me, this intimate dance of souls.

Lilah Greenberg: A Freshman’s Journey into Entrepreneurship at the Deming Center