Rip Princxss shirt

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I grew up on the Upper West Side, a maideleh among those same bubbes, dreading every Jewish obligation my family dragged me to; we were hardly observant, but even the  Rip Princxss shirt occasional Passover seder or day in shul was enough to strike fear in my tween heart. (I vividly remember my mother forcing me into a dark-green velvet, floor-length dress that most closely resembled a carpet, only to show up at a friend's bar mitzvah and see that every other twelve-year-old girl there was dressed like a mini-Paris Hilton.) On a sunny recent Saturday, I found myself quietly weeping in the smoked-fish line at Zabar's on 80th Street and Broadway. Yes, it felt like a deleted scene from a Nicole Holofcener movie, and no, I don't think anybody noticed—sunglasses and face masks are great for public crying—but I couldn't help it; it was the second day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and stalwart Upper West Side bubbes were all around me, rapping on the counter with plastic-gloved hands and inquiring after the fish cutter's new baby before haranguing him over an overly-thin cut of lox.

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