SOHO has so many special memories for me.

It’s the place where Abizer Ghadiali taught me about fashion. Its cobblestones street never too worn to welcome a walk after the celebration of a friendly meal. In its cafes and on its corners, I have pitched potential clients, I have lifted a glass to possibility, shed tears for the loss of, and so much in between.

And then, another memory, another moment to recall.

As I walked towards one of my favorite dining digs in the city, Le Botaniste, I see a man walking behind me with a large instrument.

I’ve always been extroverted and have been drawn to meet strangers and their stories. The stakes feel so low and also so beautifully limitless all at the same time. Writing love letters to New York City gives me even more of an opening to say hi and engage.

So, this big instrument, I learn is called a Sousaphone.

His name is Harry and we visited for a few minutes. I asked where I could hear some of their music.

“On the streets of New York, we play all over,” he told me.

Then he invited me to come by their next pop up performance in front of Penn Station, a few days later, and I did. And oh what a treat it was. 

On some days, writing a love letter is a number of written words on a page. And on some days, it’s a video that captures more than energy, notes, and spirit than anything I could scribe.

This is one of these moments.

This is one of these groups.

This is Triad Brass.