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Flo Fox, 79, Dies; Street Photographer Overcame Blindness and Paralysis

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Flo Fox, 79, Dies; Street Photographer Overcame Blindness and Paralysis

Flo Fox, an indomitable photographer who was born blind in one eye and who later lost her vision in the other from multiple sclerosis — which eventually paralyzed her from the neck down — but who never stopped shooting what she called the “ironic reality” of New York’s streetscape, died on March 2 at her home in Manhattan. She was 79.

Her son and only immediate survivor, Ron Ridinger, said the apparent cause was complications of pneumonia.

Inspired at 13 by a candid photograph of a street scene taken by Robert Frank, Ms. Fox asked her mother for a camera but was told to wait until she finished high school. After graduating, she designed clothing for the theater and television commercials.

It wasn’t until she was 26 — and had married, given birth and been divorced — that she finally got a camera, using her first paycheck to buy a Minolta from a costume design job. She stopped her design work after her multiple sclerosis advanced, incapacitating her hands and making it hard to work with clothing patterns, Mr. Ridinger said in an interview. Ms. Fox eventually survived mostly on Social Security and Medicaid.

Over the next five decades she took some 180,000 photographs, published a book, contributed to numerous publications and exhibited her work at the Brooklyn Museum, the Smithsonian Institution and galleries around the world — all despite being legally blind and dependent on a motorized wheelchair.

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In 2013, she was subject of an Op-Doc video by The New York Times, directed by Riley Hooper.

“I always felt I had one great advantage being born blind in one eye and never having to close that eye while taking a picture,” she told Viewfinder, the Leica Society International journal, in 2022. “I also didn’t have to convert a three-dimensional view to a flat plain, since that was the way I automatically saw. All I had to do was frame the image perfectly.”

As the vision in her left eye faded — it was like looking through “two stockings,” she said — Ms. Fox switched to a 35-millimeter autofocus camera. She initially released the shutter by pressing a rubber bulb in her mouth; later, she enlisted help to shoot the pictures after she had framed the shot. She began photographing late in the day or at night, to avoid glare that strained her eyes.

By 1999, Ms. Fox was paralyzed from the neck down, but she continued to capture candid urban tableaus until her condition worsened in 2023. In a 2015 interview with the website Curbed New York, she described herself as “a tourist every day in my own town.”

“Photography is my existence,” she wrote in an autobiographical sketch on her website. After missing a once-in-a-lifetime photo op, she said — she saw what she believed was a flying saucer hovering over Abingdon Square Park in Greenwich Village — she never went anywhere without her camera.

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In 1981, 69 of her black-and-white images of New York City in the 1970s were collected in “Asphalt Gardens,” a book published by the National Access Center. It described them as celebrating “an indomitable human spirit struggling against a faceless system.”

Ms. Fox’s work also appeared at the International Center of Photography in Manhattan, in Life magazine and in several other books, including “Women See Men” and “Women Photograph Men” (both published in 1977) and “Women See Women” (1978).

In 1999, an exhibition of her photographs showed what it’s like to be in a wheelchair much of the time. The collection was disseminated to encourage businesses and public officials to improve access for people with disabilities.

Among Ms. Fox’s favorite photographs were images looking down from the Flatiron Building and the original World Trade Center. She arranged several thematically, set them to music and posted them on YouTube.

Some of her photographs were whimsically titled: One called “Everybody Sucks” was an image of a driver sucking on a cigarette while a young girl in the back seat sucks her thumb. Another, called “Cover Girl,” shows a billboard with a scantily clad reclining model, her face obscured by a tarp as workmen labor below.

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Florence Blossom Fox was born on Sept. 26, 1945, in Miami Beach, one of four children of Paul and Claire (Bauer) Fox. Her father had moved the family to Florida from New York City to open a honey factory; he died when Flo was 2, and her mother took the family back to Woodside, Queens. Twelve years later, her mother died, and Flo went to live with an aunt and uncle on Long Island, where she attended General Douglas MacArthur High School, in Levittown.

“When I left home, I got my real education on the streets,” she recalled in the Viewfinder interview. “At age 18, marriage and motherhood came simultaneously.”

Plucky, 5-foot-4 and largely self-taught, she was as gritty as her photographs. “You know my greatest loss when I became disabled? I can’t even give people the finger anymore,” she told The Daily News of New York in 2019.

She hoped that her legacy would be “that I was a tough chick,” she said in 2015. “A tough cookie.”

Other legacies, she hoped, would be helping to foster laws improving access for people with disabilities and to give voice to the ordinary New Yorkers she photographed.

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“For over 30 years Flo Fox photographed graffiti and any artwork that people left to sustain their memory,” she wrote in her own eulogy, which she drafted about 15 years ago after learning that she had lung cancer. “Now in death, Flo requests that you leave your signature, initials, tag or graffiti mark on her coffin.”

Some of those whose voices and vision she promoted never got to see their own artwork; among them were her visually impaired students in a photography class at the Lighthouse, run by the New York Association for the Blind (now Lighthouse Guild).

“Those in the class wanted to know what they had encountered and what the view was out their bedroom windows,” she recalled. They brought in photos they had taken, she added, “and we then described all the colorful details to them.”

When one of her blind students offered a picture that he had taken from his bedroom, she told him, “There are trees outside your window.” The man beamed.

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How a Parks Worker Lives on $37,500 in Tompkinsville, Staten Island

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How a Parks Worker Lives on ,500 in Tompkinsville, Staten Island

How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.

We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?

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Sara Robinson boarded a Greyhound bus from Oregon to New York City to attend Hunter College in the early 2000s, bright-eyed and eager to pick up odd jobs to fuel her dream of living there.

For a long time, she made it work. But recently, that has been more challenging than ever.

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Right around her 40th birthday, Ms. Robinson began to feel financially squeezed in Brooklyn, where she had lived for years. Ms. Robinson (no relation to this reporter) was also feeling too grown to live with roommates.

“As a child,” she said, “you don’t think you’re going to have a roommate at 40.” She decided to move into a place of her own: a one-bedroom apartment in the Tompkinsville neighborhood of Staten Island.

After she moved, the preschool where she’d worked for over a decade closed. Now, she works two jobs. She is a seasonal employee for the state Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation, working from Tuesday to Saturday. And on Monday nights, she sells concessions at the West Village movie theater Film Forum, which pays $25 an hour plus tips.

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Ms. Robinson, now 45, loves her job as an environmental educator at a state park on Staten Island. Her team runs the park’s social media accounts and comes up with event programming, like a recent project tapping maple trees to make syrup.

But the role is temporary. Her last stint was from June 2024 to January 2025. Then she was unemployed until August 2025. Ms. Robinson’s current contract will be up in April, unless she gets an extension or a different parks job opens up.

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Ms. Robinson’s biweekly pay stubs from the parks department amount to about $1,300 before taxes. She barely felt a difference, she said, while she was out of work and pocketing around $880 every two weeks from her unemployment checks. (Her previous parks gig paid $1,100 a check.)

Living in New York’s Greenest Borough

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“It used to be, ‘There’s no way I’m moving to Staten Island,’” Ms. Robinson said. “But the place is close to the water. I’m three minutes from the ferry. The rest is history.” She lives on the third floor of a multifamily house, above an art studio and another tenant. Her rent is $1,600 a month, plus $125 in utilities, including her phone bill.

“If my situation changes, I don’t know if I could find something similar,” she said. “So much of my New York life has been feeling trapped to an apartment. You get a place for a good price, and you’re like, ‘I can’t leave now.’”

Staten Island is convenient for Ms. Robinson’s parks job, but it’s become harder to justify living in a borough where she knows few people. It takes more than an hour to get to friends in Brooklyn, an especially hard trek during the winter. After four years of living on Staten Island, Ms. Robinson feels somewhat isolated.

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“All my friends on Staten Island are senior citizens,” she said. “It’s great. I love it. But I do want friends closer to my age.”

One of Ms. Robinson’s friends, Ray, took her on nature walks and taught her about tree identification, sparking an interest in mycology, the study of mushrooms. This led to a productive — and free — fungi foraging hobby during unemployment. She has found all sorts of mushrooms, including, after a month of searching, the elusive morel.

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The Budgeting Game

Ms. Robinson doesn’t update her furniture often, but when she does, she shops stoop sales in Park Slope or other parts of Brooklyn.

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“It’s like a treasure hunt,” she said. “You could make a whole apartment off the street, off the stuff that people throw away.”

She also makes a game out of grocery shopping, biking to Sunset Park in Brooklyn or Manhattan’s Chinatown to go to stores where there are better deals. She budgets about $300 for groceries each month.

Ms. Robinson bikes almost everywhere, sometimes traveling a little farther to enter the Staten Island Railway at one of the stations that don’t charge a fare. She spends $80 a month on subway and ferry fares, and $5 a month for a discounted Citi Bike membership she gets through a credit union, though she usually uses her own bike. She is handy and does repairs herself.

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There are certain splurges — Ms. Robinson drops $400 once or twice a year on round-trip airfare to Seattle, where her family lives. She also spent $100 last year to see a concert at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens.

She said she has many financial saving graces. She has no student loans and no car to make payments on. She doesn’t get health insurance from her jobs, but she qualifies for Medicaid.

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She mostly eats at home, though sometimes friends will treat her to dinner. She repays them with tickets to Film Forum movies.

Nothing Beats the Twinkling Lights

Ms. Robinson’s friends often talk about leaving the city — and the country.

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Two friends have their eyes set on Sweden, where they hope to get the affordable child care and social safety net they are struggling to access in New York.

Ms. Robinson can’t see herself moving elsewhere in the United States, but she is entertaining the idea of an international move if she can’t hack it on Staten Island.

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Yet the pull of the city is hard for her to resist.

“I just get a rush when I’m riding the Staten Island Ferry across the bay,” she said. “You see all the little twinkling lights. It’s this feeling of, ‘everything is possible here.’”

That feeling, plus the many friendly faces Ms. Robinson sees every day — the ferry operators, the conductors on the Staten Island Railway, her co-workers at Film Forum — are what tie her to New York.

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“My savings are not increasing, so there’s that,” she said. “But I’ve been OK so far. I think I’m going to figure it out.”

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How the Editor in Chief of Marie Claire Gets Styled for a Trip to Italy

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How the Editor in Chief of Marie Claire Gets Styled for a Trip to Italy

Nikki Ogunnaike, the editor in chief of Marie Claire magazine, did not grow up the scion of an Anna Wintour or a Marc Jacobs.

But, she said, “my mom and dad are both very stylish people.”

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They got dressed up to go to church every week in her hometown Springfield, Va. Her mother managed a Staples; her father, a CVS. “Presentation is important to them,” she said.

Since landing her first internship with Glamour magazine in college, Ms. Ogunnaike, 40, has held editorial roles there and at Elle magazine and GQ. She has been in the top post at Marie Claire since 2023.

She recently spent a Saturday with The New York Times as she prepared for Milan Fashion Week.

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How a Physical Therapist and a Retiree Live on $208,000 in Harlem

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How a Physical Therapist and a Retiree Live on 8,000 in Harlem

How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.

We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?

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It has never really occurred to Marian or Charles Wade to live anywhere but the city where they were born and where they raised their children.

New York is in their bones. “We have our roots here, and our families enjoyed life here before us,” Ms. Wade said.

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And they feel lucky. Between Mr. Wade’s pension, earned after more than 40 years as an analyst at the Manhattan district attorney’s office, and his Social Security benefits, along with Ms. Wade’s work as a physical therapist at a psychiatric center, they bring in about $208,000 a year.

Still, it’s hard for the couple not to notice how much the city has changed as it has become wealthier.

About 10 years ago, Ms. Wade, 65, and Mr. Wade, 69, sold the Morningside Heights apartment they had lived in for decades. The Manhattan neighborhood had become more affluent, and tensions over how their building should be managed and how much residents should be expected to pay for upkeep boiled over between people who had lived there for years and newer neighbors.

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They found a new home in Harlem, large enough to fit their two children, who are now adults struggling to afford the city’s housing market.

All in the Family

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Ms. Wade knew it was time to leave Morningside Heights when she spotted her husband hiding behind a bush outside their building, hoping to avoid an unpleasant new neighbor. They had bought their apartment in 1994 for $206,000, using some money they had inherited from their families, and sold it in 2015 for $1.13 million.

The couple found a new apartment in the Sugar Hill section of Harlem for $811,000, and put most of the money down upfront. They took out a loan with a good rate for the remaining cost, and had a $947 monthly payment. They recently finished paying off the mortgage, but they have monthly maintenance payments of $1,555, as well as two temporary assessments to help improve the building, totaling $415 a month.

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Their two children each moved home shortly after graduating from college.

The couple’s son, Jacob Wade, 28, split an apartment with three roommates nearby for a while, but spent down his savings and moved back in with his parents. He is searching for an affordable one bedroom nearby and plans to move out later in the year. Their daughter, Elka Wade, 27, came home after college but recently moved to an apartment in Astoria, Queens, with roommates.

Until their daughter moved out a few weeks ago, she and her brother each took a bedroom, and Mr. and Ms. Wade slept in the dining room, which they had converted into their bedroom with the help of a Murphy bed and a new set of curtains for privacy.

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There is very little storage space. A piano occupies an entire closet in their son’s bedroom, because the family has no other place to fit it.

The setup is cramped, but close quarters have their benefits: When their daughter, a classically trained cellist, was living there, she often practiced at home in the evenings. “I love listening to her play,” Ms. Wade said.

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Three Foodtowns and a Thrift Shop

The Wades do what they can to keep their costs low. They’ve decided against installing new, better insulated windows in their drafty apartment. They don’t go on vacations, instead visiting their small weekend home in rural upstate New York. And they’ve pulled back on takeout food and retail shopping.

Instead, Mr. Wade surveys the three Foodtown supermarkets near their home for the best deals, preferring one for produce and another for meat. The weekly grocery bill has been around $500 with both kids living at home, and the family usually orders delivery twice a week, rotating between Chinese and Indian food, which typically costs $70, including leftovers.

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For an occasional splurge, they love Pisticci, a nearby restaurant where the penne with homemade mozzarella costs $21.

The couple owns a car, which they park on the street for free. But they often use public transportation to avoid paying the $9 congestion pricing fee to drive downtown, or when they have a good parking spot they don’t want to give up. They have a senior discount for their transit cards, which allows them to pay $1.50 per subway or bus ride, rather than $3.

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Ms. Wade stopped shopping at the stores she used to frequent, like Eileen Fisher and Banana Republic, years ago. Instead, she visits a thrift store called Unique Boutique on the Upper West Side. She was browsing the aisles a few months ago, before a big Thanksgiving dinner, and spotted the perfect dress for the occasion for just $20.

But she has one nonnegotiable weekly expense: a private yoga lesson in an instructor’s apartment nearby, for $150 a session.

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Elka Wade, a cellist, often practices at home, to the delight of her parents. Bess Adler for The New York Times

Swapping Mortgage Payments for Singing Lessons

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For every member of the Wade family, life in New York is all about the arts.

The children each attended the Special Music School, a public school focused on the arts. Their son, an actor, teacher and director, works part time at the Metropolitan Opera and the Kaufman Music Center, a performing arts complex in Manhattan. His sister works in administration at the Kaufman Center.

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Mr. Wade is still close with friends from high school who are now professional musicians, and the couple often goes to see them play at venues like the Bitter End in Greenwich Village, where shows typically have a $12 cover and a two-drink minimum.

The couple has cut back on going to expensive concerts — they used to try to see Elvis Costello every time he came to New York, for example — but have timeworn strategies for getting affordable theater tickets.

They recently splurged on tickets to “Oedipus” on Broadway for themselves and their daughter, who they treated to a ticket as a birthday gift. The seats were in the nosebleed section, but still cost $80 apiece.

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The couple has a $75 annual membership to the Film Forum, which gives them reduced price tickets to movies. They occasionally get discounted tickets to the opera through their son’s work, and when they don’t, they pay for family circle passes, which are usually $47 a head, plus a $10 fee.

Ms. Wade, who grew up commuting from Flushing, Queens, to Manhattan to take dance lessons, sometimes takes $20 drop-in ballet classes during the week at the Dance Theater of Harlem, just a few blocks away from the apartment.

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Recently, when the couple paid off their mortgage, Ms. Wade celebrated by giving herself a treat: weekly private singing lessons, for $125 a session.

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