I hesitate to become one of those people who’s like “Broad City gets everything right about what it’s like to be a young woman living in New York right now” or “Abbi and Ilana are heroic geniuses who can do no wrong in their portrayal of complicated women;” I hesitate because, at this point, saying something like that would be akin to casually remarking, “Hey, did you know the sky was blue” or “Those Knicks sure don’t know how to play basketball, do they?”
But! Last night’s episode of Broad City (which was great from start to finish, really, as ever), so perfectly crystallized the beauty of what it is to live alone in a city where it so frequently feels like it is impossible to be alone for even one minute (note: never being alone is not the same thing as never experiencing loneliness), that I found it impossible to restrain myself from singing its praises. I am speaking, of course, of the scene in which Abbi, finding herself in her miraculously Bevers-free apartment, strips down and dances around, singing to Lady Gaga’s “The Edge of Glory.” True story: This scene brought tears of joy to my eyes.
The abandon which Abbi displays—the pure, unadulterated joy with which she embraces the fact that she is lucky enough to be alone and alive in the age of Gaga—is breathtaking in its simplicity (the only requirement to expressing that level of happiness is an empty apartment). And yet, as many of us who live in New York know, the kind of solitude that is required to reach that state of bliss is super fucking hard to come by, making moments like Abbi’s all the more special and all the more important to treasure. So, dance on, Abbi. Bevers will be back eventually; so few of us are ever really alone in New York. But let this scene serve as a reminder to all of us that we should dance naked to Lady Gaga whenever we get the chance. Solitude is fleeting, but the joy you’ll get from being on the Edge of Glory is forever.
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