Having walked and - literally - talked for 14 hours straight for three days, my brain is mush - I appear to be coming down with a cold that I'm still fighting it with all my might, though at this point it's pretty far gone. I can only hope my Emergen-C mainline will keep it it lite, as it were.
Who cares though? It goes without saying that New York is amongst the most phenomenal cities in the world. Add some mid-spring weather and amazing friends to the equation and it was otherworldly.
Let me leave you with a few spontaneous NYC travel snippets (to be explored in more detail soon):
- No joke, all NY bloggers - and those who convened in the city from elsewhere with whom I met - are freakin' gorgeous. I don't mean to be shallow, but they're really fun to look at.
- They also happen to be, in general, taller than you think they will be.
- I met the venerable Kenneth King at the Chelsea Flea Market and was nervy enough to quote him back to himself (Paraphrase: "If you're not wrecking 10,000 yards of fabric, you're not learning how to sew.") Somehow Peter got me to undo my just-bought cape (Barney's) to show Kenneth my new handmade dress, heretofore known as the Chelsea dress, which I was wearing while shopping. You can only imagine my horror. But of course I complied. :-)
- I found a ring I estimate to be worth in the thousands of dollars, that a woman accidentally left by the side of the bathroom sink, at Maialino. Needless to say I turned it in. Then, the next day, I stupidly forgot an amazing package of 55-dollar finds from the flea market on a table at Craft Bar and the server threw it out. Remarkably, I was able to retrieve a vintage Jean Desses scarf - which I'd just scored for 5 bucks!!!!? - and 2 pieces of beautiful, mod, 60s bakelite jewelry along with scraps of toast. And miraculously the scarf was unharmed. I like to think of it as the (stressful, urban) circle of karma.
- The Gramercy Park Hotel is the sexiest spot in NYC. Seriously, I saw attractive people having sex in the lobby. Discreetly. But no so discreetly I didn't notice and observe, arguably for too long, in some gritty NY voyeur experience. I felt Lou Reed should have been sitting in the Jade Bar, waiting to regale me with stories of the Lower East Side proto-punk movement.
- The Pod Hotel is not sexy. It's more cheap and cheerful - though sadly fails on both of those accounts. Avoid it.