Lainey Mackinnon

Lainey Mackinnon sat on the L train heading across town, staring at three girls in leather jackets across from her, trying to remember if it was morning or still the evening before. It took a matter of minutes to confirm her reality. 

‍“I literally thought to myself, ‘Is it still nighttime?’ I was convinced it was still last night at 9:30 in the morning. It was a little crazy.”

‍Mackinnon’s train sped into Brooklyn. She was heading from her Upper West Side apartment to a five-hour rehearsal for her upcoming theatrical debut. Before that, she’d been at a bar in the East Village catching up with friends she’d gone weeks without seeing, but only after she’d gotten off from her waitressing job on the Upper East Side. She’d clocked into that shift only after she’d hurried from rehearsal, where she was now again approaching. 

In 24 hours, Mackinnon had hit four boroughs, fed upwards of fifty people, ran through over a hundred pages of script, danced until three and slept until eight. Dazed, yes. Circadian rhythm-deaf, absolutely. Elated, undoubtedly.

‍“I am most proud of myself when I feel slightly insane, which is a good and bad thing.” 

‍A schedule like this is part of the reason the artist from Melbourne, Florida worked all summer after college at a pizza shop to save up enough money to move to New York. Living here, diving into a world of art and creativity, learning more about herself as an artist and person in a city of chaos and opportunity: it all had to happen. 

‍“My life goal was to move to New York. I didn't know what it would look like after this, after moving here. I just had to be here. So I worked every day in the blistering Florida heat. I didn't know what else to do. I just knew I needed to make a lot of money very fast.

‍Mackinnon moved into an apartment in the West 70’s with a friend from Florida State University in September of 2023. She had earned enough to get to New York. Now, she needed to sustain the life she had chosen, or else she’d have to head back home. 

‍“I moved in, and then for a week after that, I was just like, ‘What do I do?’ I remember my mom called me. She was like, ‘You're gonna have to come home if you don't start making money.’ That was my biggest fear.  So I did what I always have done to get service jobs: print out a stack of resumes and walk up and down blocks.” 

‍Sfoglia, an Italian restaurant with roasted chickens and pre-order bread puddings, sits on 92nd Street and Lexington Avenue, catty-corner to the The 92nd Street YMCA. Votive candles and antique wooden furniture set the stage for professional waitstaff and high-end dishes, creating a warm, rustic yet formal dining experience. Waiters are dressed in black, pastas are made in house, and wines are decanted upon request. Within two weeks of moving to the city, Mackinnon was standing underneath the restaurant’s high ceilings and chandeliers, with resumes in her hand. 

‍“I was wearing Birkenstocks, a denim mini skirt, and some idiot top. It was the dead of summer.”

‍She was initially hired as a hostess, taken through training, and thrown on the schedule within the span of a month. She’d done it – She’d landed a job that would pay her rent. 

‍“I was so grateful to get hired there. It was like a ray of light.”

‍While learning the ropes at Sfoglia, Mackinnon wasted no time getting her new priorities in order. In the beginning of the fall, she headed to Philadelphia for a commercial shoot. She spent her days off auditioning for roles and immersing herself in the world of art Manhattan held – one she’d only ever gotten to read about while growing up in Florida. 

‍“There were so many references to art, music, performances and theater that were lost on me because I was not aware of them, because I never had that real world - Manhattan - experience. I had to give myself my own cultural education when I got here.”

‍She recalls going to Chappell Roan’s concert at Brooklyn Steel right after moving to New York with her roommate. They didn’t have tickets to the sold out show, but dressed up in sparkles and colorful corsets, and went anyway. While waiting to talk to Apple Music representatives, a member of Roan’s crew told them that she’d seen their outfits and wanted them to come to the show. The two girls, fresh out of Florida, with moving boxes to still unpack and glitter all over their faces, were handed tickets to see someone who’d win Best New Artist at the Grammy Awards less than two years later.

2022, Tallahassee Florida,
by Abigail Sikes for Clutch Magazine

‍“It was so New York: the whole night. It just blew me away. It was like a whole different world. Things just happen here. We were making fools of ourselves, but this is a place where that's rewarded. It was nice for once, to be the two freaks in the room who got what they were after.”

‍Mackinnon learned to sing at her family’s regularly attended church and her elementary school’s cafeteria, where theater productions took place. As her love for performing grew, however, so did her frustration with the general opinion of her surroundings. 

‍“A lot of my work in theater was coupled with activism and fighting against issues like homophobia, subtle racism, and other small-minded attitudes that even as a child I was just tired of seeing around me.”  

‍Her hometown’s politics and views inspired Mackinnon to not only engage in activism, but to also explore more experimental forms of theater. She loves absurdism, where she can intentionally express herself in more abstract and unclear ways in order to reaffirm existential concepts. She finds comfort in playing with the rules of reality and challenging the rigidity of her environment. Mackinnon uses this agency to develop a community she feels proud of. 

‍“I wanted to create my own world where that shortsighted view didn’t exist. I was tired of seeing the thing [theater] that’s supposed to be bright and beautiful and progressive and awesome, still being stuck in the past. A lot of my focus in theater, and in life, is breaking away from that.”‍

‍Lists of Promise, Mackinnon’s first post-graduate theatrical project, aligns with her love of absurdism and progressive theater. Adapted from Merlin Stone’s book, When God Was a Woman, and directed by Ildiko Nemeth and Lisa Giobbi, the play addresses the ironic and oppressive standards set for women throughout history.

‍Mackinnon and the cast formed a close-knit group of all backgrounds and ages, giving the debuting actress a first NYC opportunity to open herself up completely. She worked for over a year to put herself out there both socially and artistically, learned the necessary skills to thrive in a formal dining space, and protected herself in her new jungle of a home. Mackinnon had built a shell around her. Lists of Promise, and those both in the cast and the audience, cracked that shell. 

‍“From the beginning, I knew this was something that would really make me happy, and the people around me were so wonderful and open. They were older than I, and had been through a lot – so they saw right through me. It didn't matter what I was trying to be. They saw me for who I was, for who I am, and that really helped.”

‍During the months of rehearsals and weeks of performances, Mackinnon remained at Sfoglia,  clearing plates and reciting specials for the wealthy residents of the Upper East Side. While burning the candle at both ends, Sfoglia’s managers made sure she wouldn’t burn out on either side, showing Mackinnon another place of love and support. One manager came to see her perform once Lists of Promise hit the theater with different groups of her fellow waitstaff also attending, while another manager ensured that her work schedule was not only taken care of, but reasonable for an active actress. 

‍“At one point, I looked around and realized that a lot of the people there loved me, and that was an amazing feeling, too.”

‍The concept of proving herself or her career intentions have become a subject of interest for Mackinnon, as she’s joined millions of people who come to New York to pursue a sustainable life in the arts.

2020, Tallahassee Florida,
behind the scenes of Farewell Transmission,
by Elijah Barry

“Acting is like a wisp in the air. You really can't put your finger on when someone's doing a good job or not . . . it's just there, in the air between you, between the audience and the cast, or just inside of you. The act of doing it is this mystical thing, and the career of doing it is equally as mystical, because you really never know what’s going to stick and what's not.”

‍At times, Mackinnon feels she’s not taken all too seriously. Instead of combatting such an attitude, she accepts and understands it, to an extent. 

‍“Art careers are kind of a mystery, even to those doing them. It’s funny. In one conversation you come off as a success, and in another you come off as a failure. And that’s to yourself, not even comparing yourself to others. That's why I understand when people have different opinions or perceptions, and I don't even judge them for it, even if they're judging me. It’s kind of like fuel in a way. It makes it easy to see what I could become if I give up, how it could all be my imagination if I don't take the next steps every time, if I don’t push myself.” 

‍During a resurgence of creativity at FSU following the COVID-19 pandemic, Mackinnon took the opportunity to encourage progressivism in the theater community by becoming an intimacy coordinator. For plays that included intimate scenes, Mackinnon helped relieve the uncomfortability that often comes with acting through those situations by providing both support and choreography to follow.

‍“No one is not nervous when you’re doing a kissing scene. It doesn't matter if you like them or not, you just think to yourself, ‘Dear god, this is going to be scary.’ And it is. So it’s huge to have someone there, saying, ‘Okay so we’re gonna move on counts two and three, closing space between you, holding hands and then moving faces - three and four.’” 

As Mackinnon awaits the next project to obsess over, she continues to develop the personas each of her New York stages demands. After nearly two years in the city, she understands the importance of keeping her head on straight and her eyes focused forward. Maintaining friendships, a waitressing schedule, and a plethora of artistic pursuits takes a level of dedication to Manhattan that Mackinnon masters more every day. With a play checked off, she knows she’s more than capable of owning such a balancing act. 

‍“I have to keep working for money, I have to keep working as a waitress. I wish I could stop that too, honestly, just for right now, just for a second. We all wish that we could stop that. But I love doing it all. I knew that I could do it and I will do it for something that truly moves me. The show did and it was great knowing that I can make both work.”

‍Within the calendar year, Mackinnon wants to finish a screenplay she’s writing, direct a short film or two, and publish some of her poetry. A massive dream of hers is to act in a period film. 

‍“I don't relish the idea of being transported into another time where there’s no running water and they use arsenic in their toothpaste. But I would certainly love to frolic through the English countryside, in a corset.” 

‍While this corset may differ from the one she wore to that Chappell Roan concert, the piece sounds like a bit of a good luck charm. Regardless, Mackinnon’s life in Manhattan grows in opportunity and knowledge with every shift and show. Her love of the absurd expands beyond the stage, and seems to have taken on a character of its own who goes with her everywhere. She finds comfort in creating a world in which she may lose awareness of the time of day, butlives each one in stubborn and lively pursuit. ∎