Bococa Bulimia
In the spirit of community and fundraising a well-meaning mom from our school suggested we reach out to the other public school in the neighborhood and organize a joint fundraiser. Four of us met at the Zombie Hut: three moms from my school and one from the other public school. Now, there’s some rivalry between the two schools that sat down to have a a drink. The other public school is older, more established, more affluent, and suffering from rumors of overcrowding. Our school is scrappier, more flexible, smaller and experiencing a new vogue from parents wealthy enough to buy in Brooklyn, but unable to own a home and send their kids to private school.
I introduced myself to the other school mom and asked her what she did on the PTA? “Oh I’m on the board.”
“Oh, ok, I’m the Fundraising Chair what do you chair?”
“I’m on the board,” was all she said. She said it with such and air of elitism that I thought, if she’s on the board without a position, maybe she’s on the board of trustees.
We ordered our Shiraz and figured out the best thing would be a mom’s night out. I offered to get a lusty door prize like a Dyson vacuum and we’d make it sort of retro and silly.
An hour later we said our goodnights. Ironically, the two mom’s from my school walked out of our school zone to go home, while the “I’m-on-the-board” mom walked with me into my school zone to go to her home.
The “Board” mom asked me where I worked. I told her and she said she knew a lot of people who worked there. I asked her if she worked. She didn’t. She asked how long I’d lived in the neighborhood. Oh a long time, I said. Yeah, her too and now isn’t it funny now how everyone is marketing to the ‘Brooklyn mom’ aesthetic.”
“Oh really. How do you mean?”
“Well you know everyone wants to be a Bococa mom. And everyone is marketing to the Boooca mom.”
I couldn’t believe she just used a made-up real estate term to describe the neighborhood even though she’d lived here for a number of years, never mind using it to describe a kind of mom. I had to play Devil’s advocate.
“Really I thought everyone wanted to be a Hollywood mom and we’re all wondering if Suri Cruise has a stylist.”
“Oh no, those Hollywood moms (she touched my arm for emphasis) they only wish they could live in Bococa.”
Thankfully, by then we had reached her street.
As I walked the rest of the way home I felt the Shiraz turn sour in my empty stomach and I wondered what would qualify a mom outside of Brooklyn to feel like a Brooklyn mom? Does the “Board” mom imagine suburban moms all over the country are wishing they’re thirty-something-freelance-writers/restaurateurs/non-working-moms who’ve just renovated a brownstone who carry an Orla Kiley handbag while walking their Appaman-outfitted five-year-old barefoot-skateboarding son to school?
A block later, when I reached my house I realized the most annoying thing of all: when she said she was on the “board” all she meant was she was on the executive board of the PTA. As Fundraising Chair so am I! Ugh, I hate when I let myself be easily impressed.