images via Bazaar via TFS
From a longer piece in New York Magazine about people's first NYC experiences:
Lauren Hutton, actress
I came to New York for two things: to get to Africa and to find LSD.
In those days it was legal. You could get it from this Swiss chemical
company, and I met six guys who were very willing to give it to me.
But I didn’t like any of them enough to take it, so it took me a few
months. As for Africa, I was supposed to meet a friend in New York,
and we were going to take a tramp steamer to Tangier. It was going to
cost $140. Once I got there, my plan was to take a bus for ten cents
to the outskirts of town and see elephants and rhinoceroses and
giraffes. I was as ignorant as a telephone pole.
In any case, the friend didn’t show up. I don’t think I ever found out
what happened to her. I waited for two hours at Idlewild and then took
a bus to the Port Authority. I was going through the bus terminal, and
I was 21 and these very strangely dressed young black guys were
following me and saying these weird things. And I thought, Uh-oh. I
didn’t realize they were pimps, but I knew it was bad. So I panicked
and got into a cab. When the cabbie asked me where to go, I didn’t
know. Then I remembered Tiffany’s. I’d heard of Tiffany’s. And I knew
the corner of 57th and Fifth. So I said, “57th and Fifth! Tiffany’s!”
It was very early Sunday, and when I got out New York was deserted. No
one anywhere. I had to figure out who I knew and get to a phone. I
started bawling as I was walking down the street. Everything I’d ever
owned—old college test papers, sneakers from high school—was in these
two suitcases. And I couldn’t walk with them. I’d bring one bag about
six feet up and then I’d go back and get the other bag and bring it
six feet up. Humping these suitcases down Fifth Avenue. And then I got
to a phone booth, this box of glass and metal, and I think I felt
protected. I just sat there for a while and cried and tried to figure
it out. And then I remembered another friend from New Orleans who was
supposed to be in New York. She told me to come right over.
She had this wonderful boyfriend from Brooklyn who said, “Well, you’re
going to have to get a job.” It made sense; I was going to Africa!
There was an ad in the New York Times that said, “Wanted: High-fashion
model for Christian Dior. Must have experience.” And he said, “This!
You could do this!” And I said, “No, no. I’ve never been a model.” And
he looked dead-straight at me and said, “Of. Course. You. Have.” So I
was getting all kinds of lessons in New Yorkese and survival, the very
morning I got in.