New York City is one of the best places on earth for growing old, but for an aging woman it's at once mysterious, confusing, and surprising. This site covers the ongoings and discoveries of one woman, now securely installed on the precipitous slope of mid-life in the perplexing role of New York Hag. Every woman, those who've attained hag status or those approaching it, may find herself here. And as time goes on many other voices may well join the chorus.
what is a Hag? A Hag is a woman who's been around long enough to know what's going on but also knows there's always more to find out. And still wants to be part of what's going on; though she's not always sure what that will entail and what the possibilities are, she's still looking down new pathways and responding to opportunity wherever it beckons, hot or cold, linear or twisted, intellectual or corporeal. Even though it's not as easy or as frequent as it used to be. In olden days hagmeant a witch, a crone, a caster of spells -- a combination of the horrors of age and the magic of knowledge. This is the site for today's hags, in training or in operation.
I finally made it back into the city, which I’d been yearning to do for about 10 years. I moved out to Long Island when I got a job there. 18 months later I was working in Manhattan again, but my son was in elementary school by then, and I told myself I’d wait until he was big enough to tend to himself before I bailed out of suburban somnolence.
Then the real estate market in New York City took its nineties nosedive, and it seemed it was time to go shopping. I did and found a six room apartment in upper Manhattan, with a dining room, chandelier, and polished wood floors. It was the late 90s by then, and people were telling me I was crazy to consider moving there – drugs, thugs, and a population of undesirables. Now, since September 11 and the renewed boom, they've all begun to see it differently. They give me credit for prescience I didn't really have and for flexibility, which I do. So these days I'm coasting along in my homey family neighborhood, where the trendy cafés have begun to vie with the bodegas and cantinas, where you can now get a chimichanga or pear martini at any hour of the day or night.