And as I’d mentioned in my journal, he’d be taking the following year off from Columbia to teach photography at Quare. We’d be interesting together. Cue fantasy of us picnicking and reading subversive literature in a field. Cue fantasy of Elijah realizing how adventurous I was, professing his love, and kissing me, preferably in a canoe, on a pond at sunset.
One thing happened after another, and before I knew it, I was asking for recommendations and writing my application essay for Quare about the need to make adoption more accessible to same-sex couples.
My acceptance letter
The Quare Academy
Flora Goldwasser
470 West 79th Street, Apt. 5A
New York, NY 10024
April 10
Flora,
On behalf of the Quare admissions committee and faculty, I’m thrilled to offer you a spot in the class of 20—. Quare received a record number of close to 250 applications for just 16 spots, and it’s a testament to your ambition, creativity, and curiosity that you’ve been selected.
Please sign and return the enclosed document, along with a preliminary deposit, by May 10 if you wish to attend Quare next year. Please also feel free to call our office should you have any questions at all; I or another member of our team would be delighted to speak with you.
Infinite blessings,
Miriam Row, Headmistress
As soon as I got the letter, I knew that I would go.
Elijah would be going to Chicago to spend the summer as he always did, studying under his photography mentor, the famous Michael Rosenberg, at Chicago Arts, and I’d be interning at Sotheby’s.
I hardly heard from him all summer; he was busy in Chicago. So I did my Sotheby’s internship, ate my last Maison Kayser macarons with Cora and India—who still couldn’t wrap their heads around why I was doing this; I told them I was bored at Bowen and needed an adventure, which I could tell they didn’t quite buy, but what could they say?—and packed my nicest dresses, skirts, and shoes—along with my portable mint-green Underwood Olivetti typewriter to compose letters on the go—into two huge steamer trunks.
What follows are the letters, journal entries, and other sundry items from my first year at Quare Academy, where I had gone to follow my One True Love (or for the adventure, depending on who was asking).
But first, the last ever Miss Tulip blog post, from April 30
misstulipblog.com
HOME SEARCH ARCHIVES PRESS CONTACT
BREAKING PLAID: RED, WHITE, AND TULIP
Photos c/o Elijah Huck
Click to navigate through photo album
Morning, cool cats. Miss Tulip woke up feeling a little bit glum, but after stepping into this plaid skirt suit (courtesy of the year 1958), her day got brighter. A whole lot brighter. It’s not that she’s materialistic, or anything, but she knows the power of a smartly cut suit.
And why today to bust out such a number? The three-quarter sleeves are just right for spring, and the fabric is swingy and breezy. But good luck getting your hands on one: the make is Mode O’Day, and Miss T has one of the very last ones ever manufactured. As usual, she knew a guy. What can we say? Not all of us can be so lucky or so fabulous.
Miss Tulip will be on hiatus indefinitely due to her various other social, academic, and political engagements. From both of us, subject and her documentarian, thank you for being such a rapt and reverent audience for these past months. Miss Tulip might be going away for the moment, but keep your eyes open as you wander the streets of Manhattan. You just might find her.
THE LOOK: SKIRT SUIT (COLOR: RED-AND-WHITE PLAID) | |
BROWN STOCKINGS | | BROWN-AND-RED JAPANESE SCHOOL SHOES (RETRO) | | RED-AND-WHITE-CHECKERED PURSE | | CAT-EYE SUNGLASSES | |
SKINNY BROWN WATCH
SETTING: RIVERSIDE PARK | | MORNINGSIDE HEIGHTS
74 THOUGHTS ON “BREAKING PLAID: RED, WHITE, AND TULIP”
PastelsnPrints MAY 30 7:57 A.M.
WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS MISS TULIP NO MOREEEEE :((((((
Rebel MAY 30 8:46 A.M.
I’M OBSESSED WITH MISS TULIP UGH WHY HAVE YOU NOT POSTED SINCE APRIL
VivianXoXo MAY 30 8:51 A.M.
I think I’m sadder about Miss Tulip’s disappearance than I was about my own grandmother’s death.
SexyGayKitty MAY 30 11:59 A.M.
Yesssssss Miss T at it again. Looking DAMN good too.
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Letter from Lorelei Winkle, Headmistress of the Bowen School for Girls
The Bowen School for Girls
A note from the headmistress
Flora Goldwasser
470 West 79th Street, Apt. 5A
New York, NY 10024
June 8
Dear Flora,
It has been my distinct pleasure to serve as your headmistress for the past eleven years. I’m writing to express my regret that you’re leaving us at the end of this school year, and also to wish you the best of luck in the future.
Bowen is accustomed to sending girls to institutions such as the Phillips Andover Academy and the Groton School when they choose to depart for boarding school, so I was surprised to learn of your choice. I am not familiar with Quare (though our college guidance team assures me that its college entrance rate is nothing short of spectacular!). I wonder if Bowen, too, might benefit from including Peace Studies and World Issues in its curriculum—you’ll have to let us know how it goes.
Perhaps the most bittersweet part of my job is saying farewell to girls I’ve come to know over the years, especially when those girls are, like you, among our brightest stars, but I am confident that you will find a home at Quare. We hope you keep in touch!
Fondly,
Lorelei Winkle, Headmistress
My Final Bowen report card
To: Lael Goldwasser
From: Flora Goldwasser
Subject: Ugh
June 12, 8:17 a.m.
Lael,
I can’t believe this is the last email either of us will send or receive with our Bowen email addresses. And I really can’t believe you’re already in England. Summer hasn’t even begun yet.
I’m getting the weirdest vibes from Elijah. After your graduation, he bolted without saying good-bye. I mean, I’ll probably see him around over the summer, and if not, then once we get to Quare in the fall, but still. He is just SUCH a baby bird (like, a hot and confident one), and it scares me how v. v. into it I am. I can’t even blame him for acting weird, you know? He’s a brilliant artist. He can’t exactly be expected to be tethered in any meaningful way to this world, or any petty romances it might contain.
By the way, your graduation was beautiful, your dress was beautiful, and I’m so proud of you. I can’t believe you refused to come out to Les Deux with me and India and Cora—we celebrated YOUR graduation without YOU, because you needed to sleep before your flight. You are such an old woman sometimes.
Keep me posted about how it’s going at Oxford! I’ll be here relaxing as Mum and Daddy throw vases at each other.
Xoxo
Flora
To: Flora Goldwasser
From: Lael Goldwasser
Subject: Re: Ugh
June 13, 5:19 p.m.
Flora,
I didn’t say anything before, because I was a little bit preoccupied with graduating and also didn’t want you to strangle me, but I’m having worse and worse doubts about this whole Quare thing the more you talk about it. So I waited until I got to Oxford to say this.
Don’t go to Quare.
You always get these romantic notions in your head about things, and usually, it’s charming. But this—following some wimp to this hippie school to make him love you—might take the cake. And his limpid good-bye at graduation doesn’t bode well for the future. Abandon it while you still can. Talk to Lorelei Winkle; she’ll take you back in a flash. Daddy will be so happy, and Mum will be miserable, which is pretty much
worth it in itself. Let Elijah go to Quare alone. It’s his home, not yours, and I have a strong feeling that you’ll regret this.
I know you’re not going to listen to me, but this is my official advice. I’m printing this email now, in fact, so I can tell you the exact day and time that I (quite rightly) warned you about this foolhardy thing you’re about to do.
Your adoring sister,
Lael
To: Lael Goldwasser
From: Flora Goldwasser
Subject: Ugh
June 13, 9:30 p.m.
Lael! He is not a wimp. I really wish you would stop saying that. Do all men have to be muscle-bound blocks of emotionless concrete? He’s SENSITIVE, for God’s sake. Stop acting like this is some sort of crime. And read something by Judith Butler about gender, while you’re at it. (Gender Trouble is my summer reading for Quare, and to be fair, I’ve only read the back cover, but STILL. Get with the program.)
And please, would you calm the hell down about Quare? It will be an adventure, if nothing else. It’s not like I’m doing it SOLELY to be with Elijah, or anything. Jesus Christ.
F
Text received from Elijah on August 24
hey flora, just a heads-up, i decided to stay at columbia this yr & won’t be coming to quare after all. but i’m planning to come visit in dec. let’s do one last miss t shoot!
SEMESTER ONE
The Quare Academy
Flora Goldwasser
470 West 79th Street, Apt. 5A
New York, NY 10024
August 24
Flora,
As the broccoli and cabbage appear aboveground, the eggplant bursts onto the landscape purple and ripe, and the mint springs up in succulent pockets, we prepare ourselves to welcome the sixty-second class of Quare students. You are a member of one of our most vibrant classes yet: sixteen dreamers, poets, dancers, environmentalists, knitters, milkers, and activists selected from twelve states and two countries among hundreds of applicants.
Yesterday, our child, Basilia, mewed at the first sliver of tooth poking through her gums, and we laughed that the first of the visitors had already arrived. We were reminded that with every change comes the possibility for strife, and we invite you to embrace whatever insecurity you might be feeling in the days leading up to your arrival on campus.
I am delighted to inform you that you will be living with Juna Díaz, who hails from Santa Fe, New Mexico. I advise you not to pack more than a couple of bags’ worth of belongings: the “love shacks,” as we call our cabins, are rather cozy.
We very much look forward to meeting you and celebrating your story.
Infinite blessings,
Miriam
The Frequently Asked Questions page of Quare’s website
quare.edu/about/index.html
FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
What is Quare?
The Quare Academy is a two-year residential, college preparatory boarding school for students in eleventh and twelfth grades focused on environmentalism, the arts, peace studies, and global issues. Quare occupies 420 acres in the Hudson Valley region of upstate New York.
What are the classes like?
The Quare Academy assigns work at the college level. Five academically rigorous, seminar-style courses yield credit in English, government and economics, math, science, and language, through a combination of research and hands-on experience. In addition, each student earns elective credits that include feminist forms, ethics and the environment, permaculture seminar, and art activism. Students may also choose to take one independent study course during each semester.
What qualities do you look for in prospective students?
High school students entering their eleventh- or twelfth-grade years are admitted based on their academic records, service work, recommendations, and extracurricular activities as they demonstrate motivation, aptitude, and achievement. Specifically, Quare seeks students who feel called to come here—called to challenge themselves, called to engage with the world’s ills, and called to join a radically inclusive community of dreamers and thinkers. Admissions cap at twenty students.
Where will I live?
Students live in two-person A-frame cabins circling Quare Pond. The cabins contain a small sofa, a wood-burning stove, shelves for books, and desk space, as well as a drying rack.
Where is Quare located?
Quare is located roughly twenty miles from Woodstock, New York. The town of Main Stream, which is home to just over one thousand residents, is rich in history and culture; many artists, peacemakers, and farmers reside here. Just a five-minute drive, or a twenty-minute hike, to the Hudson River, Quare is fortunate to call such a scenic pocket of New York home.
Where do graduates go to college?
In the past five years, Quare graduates have matriculated Bard College, Brown University, Columbia University, Grinnell College, Harvard University, Macalester College, Northwestern University, Oberlin College, Pitzer College, Pomona College, Reed College, Smith College, Stanford University, Swarthmore College, the University of California at Berkeley and Los Angeles, the University of Chicago, Vassar College, Wesleyan University, Williams College, and Yale University.
How can I communicate with my friends and family?
Because of our limited bandwidth, Quare students in their first year can email anyone with a Quare email address using our internal server; however, to communicate with friends and family off campus, we encourage these students to call or write letters. Second-years can send and receive email both internally and externally.
The Quare Academy | 2 Quare Road, Main Stream, NY 12497 | 846-552-1304
Journal entry from August 24, minutes after the text message
I feel like I’m on a trolley speeding down a hill. And for once I don’t even feel like I’m being dramatic in that comparison. I’m going to QUARE in a few days, and it’s entirely too late to back out. I’m really GOING, and he’s not going to be there after all.
Holy FUCKING shit. I can’t back out. I can’t. My stuff is packed. The papers are signed. I have a roommate and everything, according to a letter from the headmistress.
And now that I think about it, there was that weird look Elijah gave me in the early days after my acceptance—a look that at the time I interpreted as adoration, but which now seems a little bit off, somewhere between a gas pain and a “this is awkward.”
I’m trying so hard to remain calm. I have three candles burning, and my blinds are closed so I can’t see my creepy across-the-street neighbor Mr. Cheney. But there’s this awful weight in my stomach that even the lemon-lime seltzer I picked up on the way home isn’t helping. I don’t know what to do other than curl up in a ball and cry. I feel so stupid and pitiful.
To: Flora Goldwasser
From: Emma Engelbrecht Goldwasser
Subject: onward!
August 26, 7:18 a.m.
Darling,
I’m ever so sorry that I won’t be able to come with Daddy to drop you off at Quare. I know you understand, but I hope you aren’t too sad about it. It was absolutely crucial that I spend this week in West Virginia. The people I’ve met here in the more depressed bits of Appalachia are nothing short of heroes: in the face of mountaintop removal, chronic asthma, and rampant Oxycontin addiction, they nonetheless find the will and the grace to go on.
And so will you. The future is bright, darling. I am thrilled that you agree Quare is a much more suitable environment than Bowen, and I commend you for taking my complaints about Dr. Winkle all these years to heart—really, her unrelenting focus on Advanced Placement classes and etiquette seminars denies you the most important part of yourself: your individuality. I’m so proud of you for finding this place, and I know that it will soon feel like home.
Love always,
Mum
Lael Goldwasser
Harvard College
2
609 Harvard Yard Mail Center
Cambridge, MA 02138
August 29
Lael,
I didn’t back out. Even after getting that text from him. I think I was in a state of shock, and besides, my trunks were packed.
So I’m here. At Quare. It’s actually happening.
I was one of the first ones here, of course, at least as far as I could tell, because Daddy forced us to leave the city at about five forty-five in the morning, even though I told him about a hundred times that it’s only a two-hour drive. So we got here at the crack of dawn, just in time to hear a rooster howling. I’m kidding, but just barely. As we neared Quare, I hardly opened my eyes, not only because I was so tired, but also because I didn’t really want to see it—something about seeing it would make it real, I guess.
It isn’t that I wish it weren’t real, per se. But I’ve been a bundle of anxiety for weeks, and I simply couldn’t deal with the sight of a dirt road at seven in the morning.
And Daddy was so quiet on the drive up here. I mean, it’s not that he’s usually such a great conversationalist, but he didn’t even offer the obvious statement-nod combinations he usually does (“Red house. Blue sky”). I had no idea what to say to him, either, because we hadn’t exactly been chatting it up all summer.
Thanks, by the way, for leaving me to deal with Mum and Daddy while you did whatever you do with test tubes at Oxford.
I feel like Daddy’s depressed; the divorce funk is only going to get worse now that we’re both at school. It wasn’t lost on me that he’s driving directly to his new house in Rye on his way back from dropping me here. I don’t even want to know what the house looks like—I can only assume it has gray walls and a solitary toothbrush (and single tongue brush and single floss container and single tub of mouthwash, of course) in the medicine cabinet. Oh, and maybe a single bottle of Prozac, assuming that he goes to see Dr. Modarressi like I urged him to.
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