BY KAREN REMPEL | Storefront fortune tellers are almost as ubiquitous as nail salons in New York. Who among us hasn’t succumbed to the lure of peering into the mists of the future, seeking a hint of reassurance that things are going to be O.K.? Or guidance to make a choice?
Only $10 to gain a moment’s comfort from a wise woman! Well worth the price — even if you don’t quite believe — to have a spirit-seer touch your hand and give you 10 minutes of attention to satisfy your curiosity or narcissistic needs.
I have sought the guidance of psychics, astrologers and mediums at various choice points in my life. Their words of wisdom still resonate in my soul. One seer — many years ago — said she saw me as a medieval town crier, shouting messages that would be heard around the world. I was seeking a career change from accounting, and didn’t know I’d become a writer, but her words helped me move in that direction.
When I was in my early 20s, a past-life channeler at a psychic fair took me back to a village in Zambia where I was a warrior’s wife, to help me see that my journey in this lifetime was not about being a wife and mother. Been there, done that.
The marvelous astrologer David Pond read my charts, also when I was in my 20s, and told me that I wouldn’t find my life love until the second half of life. I’m still waiting to see how that one turns out! But then again…
I fell in love with New York around the midpoint of life (assuming my plans to live to 100 bear out — assured to me by a tiny storefront psychic on Bleecker Street). I was still living in Vancouver but staying here for seven weeks to see if my New York love affair was more than a one-night stand.
I’d devoured “Cosmic Sugar: The Amorous Adventures of a Modern Mystic,” by Leela Jones, a.k.a. Joan Pancoe, and booked a soul reading with her at her garden apartment in the East Village. She went into a deep trance to channel a spirit who would read the Akashic records to tell me about my life purpose. The guidance I received was that my soul would do fine in Vancouver, but thrive in New York.
I didn’t know how I could possibly make it happen, but this advice gave me the courage to set my foot on the path to move 2,400 miles, to another country and another world. I feel I have thrived in every possible way, and the surreal afternoon I spent in Joan’s apartment was the catalyst.
While I haven’t crossed the doorstep or crossed a palm with silver at the psychic storefront in the photo above, it’s beautifully appointed, and spotlit like a diorama at eye level, in a splendid 1910 building on Horatio Street. It’s just around the corner from West Village pastry marvel Aux Merveilleux de Fred. Take a double-dip of comfort some Sunday with a confection of meringue and whipped cream after your sprinkling of stardust.
⦁ Vintage French 1980s Free Lance metallic rose-patterned pumps. Edith Machinist, 104 Rivington St.
⦁ Vintage 1950s gold coin necklace. Edith Machinist.
⦁ Vintage 1970s Grecian belt of gold metallic macramé. Edith Machinist.
⦁ Hippie Rose coral ditsy-patterned tiered skirt. Goodwill, 44 W. Eighth St.
⦁ Peach Free People floral ruffled blouse with gathered sleeves. Goodwill.
⦁ Deep red velvet scarf with gold cinches and pompoms. Dress Shoppe II, 83 Second Ave. (now closed).
⦁ Red velvet belly dancing scarf with gold coins. Beckwoman’s Hippie Emporium, 1314 Commercial Drive, Vancouver.
⦁ Black flowered brocade half-corset. The Bay, Vancouver.
⦁ Garnet bracelets. Penny Whillans Designs, Victoria, BC.
⦁ Lucite hoop earrings filled with multicolored sparkle flakes. Gift shop at The Met, 1000 Fifth Ave.