You know those New York days where you leave the apartment thinking you're just going to pick up almond milk and somehow end up in a completely different neighborhood wearing vintage sunglasses you didn’t own that morning? No? Just me?
So this happened…
I Meant to Go to Bleecker Street. I Ended Up in Narnia.
Okay, not Narnia. But close: the West Village. Which, as anyone who's lived here for more than thirty seconds knows, is where GPS signals go to die and cobblestone lanes somehow rearrange themselves while you're walking on them.
I was walking around, trying to find this bakery Monica wouldn’t shut up about (something about a pistachio croissant that tastes like Paris in 1997). Naturally, I got totally turned around, made three lefts I definitely thought were rights, and boom—I found myself in front of this impossibly adorable bookstore café that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a Nora Ephron movie.
It was called “Moonbeam & Quill.” Right? I mean, come on. How could I not go in?
The Vibe Check: Cozy, Romantic, Aromatic… Possibly Enchanted?
Here’s what hit me first: the smell. Imagine if coffee, old books, vanilla incense, and something vaguely reminiscent of Johnny Depp in the early 2000s had a love child. That’s Moonbeam & Quill.
Picture this: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves (all wooden, naturally), overstuffed velvet chairs in jewel tones, a tiny café counter serving lavender lattes, and tucked in the back… wait for it… a curtained-off alcove with twinkly lights and a Tarot reader named Tallulah. I swear on Chanel No. 5.
Is this a bookstore café or a rom-com set piece? I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m moving in.
I Ordered a Latte, and Apparently, My Soul Needed a Tarot Reading
The barista wore vintage suspenders and handed me a menu with drinks like “The Keats Cappuccino” and “Little Women with Oat Milk.” I got “The Wilde Latte” (obviously, because Oscar Wilde basically invented moodiness).
While I was sipping, Tallulah peeked her head out from behind the velvet curtain like some sort of bohemian sorceress.
She smiled and said, in the most mystical voice ever:
“You’re not lost. You were led here.”
Okay, Tallulah. You have my attention.
What Tallulah Told Me (and Why I Actually Cried a Little)
So, I did it. I went behind the curtain—because when the universe sends you a sign via a Tarot-reading woman named Tallulah, you listen.
She laid out the cards while burning palo santo and asked me what I wanted to know. And—don’t laugh—I said:
“Um… why does this city make me feel completely overwhelmed and completely alive at the same time?”
Okay, it sounds dramatic, but it’s me, so…
Turns out I pulled The Tower first (yikes), but then The Star and The Empress. Apparently, that means something in my life is being restructured (hello, apartment hunting disasters), but something beautiful is growing out of it. And that I need to trust my femme energy. Which, honestly, sounds like an excuse to buy that Max Mara coat I’ve been DMing myself every night before bed.
Then she looked at me and said:
“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—even if you took a few wrong turns.”
Cue me crying into a biscotti.
Why I’m Telling You This
Living in New York is like dating someone difficult but gorgeous. It tests you constantly and makes you question your choices at least four times an hour. But then—then—you turn a corner you didn’t mean to, and it gives you something magical, like a bookstore café with soul-healing lattes and a woman named Tallulah who sees right into your over-analyzed little Manhattan heart.
So yeah, I have no idea where that pistachio croissant place is. But I found something better.
Here’s your reminder, in case you needed it:
🌙 Get lost sometimes. The best things don’t come with Google Maps directions.
☕ Always order the weird latte—it’ll surprise you.
🃏 And if a mystical woman in the back of a bookstore offers to read your cards? Always say yes.
Xoxo,
Rachel (still slightly weepy, still very into lavender lattes, now low-key obsessed with Tarot)
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PS: If you go to Moonbeam & Quill, tell Tallulah I say hi. She already knows I’ll be back.
