Always judge a book by its cover. That is what I like to tell myself since it’s the method I follow to pick my next reading. The colours, fonts, and titles tell me (almost) everything I need to know when I scrutinize any public library shelf.
I used to read pretty much everything that fell into my hands, but with time, I got more selective. I feel that I don’t have time for anything else that is not a romantic novel, a nice story with a happy ending, or a soothing storyline that takes me away from the day-to-day news, problems, and tough decisions we all need to face.
So I saw this white book, with pretty much everything on its cover that said “this is written for women to read”. I picked it up.
Another piece of advice I give myself is “never read the synopsis”. I like diving in and letting the author do their job while I pass the pages.
I became a flâneur before I knew what one was. […]
From the French verb flâner, the flâneur, or “one who wanders aimlessly”, was born in the first half of the nineteenth century.
[…] I converted the masculine noun to a feminine one - flâneuse. […]
Why do I walk? I walk because I like it. I like the rythm of it, my shadow always a little ahead of me on the pavement. I like being able to stop when I like, to lean against a building and make a note in my journal, or read an email, or send a text message, and for the world to stop while I do it. Walking, paradoxically, allows for the possibility of stillness.
Walking is mapping with your feet. It helps you piece a city together, connecting up neighbourhoods that might otherwise have remained discrete entities, different planets bound to each other, sustained yet remote. I like seeing how in fact they blend into one another, I like noticing the boundaries beween them. Walking helps me feel at home. […]
Sometimes I walk because I have things on my mind, and walking helps me sort them out. […]
I walk because it confers - or restores - a feeling of placeness. […]
I walk because, somehow, it’s like reading. You’re privy to these lives and conversations that have nothing to do with yours, but you can eavesdrop on them. Sometimes it’s overcrowded; sometimes the voices are too loud. But there is always companionship. You are not alone. You walk in the city side by side with the living and the dead.
Flâneuse. Women walk the City in Paris, New York, Tokyo, Venice, and London. - Lauren Elkin
You can argue my controversial advice, that is what we are here for.
Although I don’t think there is a discussion about whether you are thinking the same as I did: Women. Walking. Books. Ok, this is not a romantic comedy, but it definitely makes me happy and gets me hooked as if waiting for the characters’ first kiss.
It might be serendipity that I found intriguing the pink skirt on the black and white illustration. But it was that moment when I started lying the foundation of this book club by and for women who love urban planning and transportation.
Metaphorically, I am not reading or walking alone anymore. Thanks to the growth of the Living Streets team, we are building a network of women with professional transportation and urban planning backgrounds, or passionate about the topic, to talk and reflect on walking, planning, and transportation, via a selection of books where women and walkability play a significant role in the book. This is a safe space to amplify female-identified voices by reflecting on the role of women in public spaces.
Our First Chapter has started. As of today, we are in a Discord server. We hope you click the link and say hello.
~Isabel
