Why do I always feel like a kid in a candy store when I’m in Manhattan? Perhaps it’s Lil A’s infectious sense of wonderment that’s rubbed off on me–btw, I suspect she has a future in fashion–
or perhaps it’s the fact that NYC is a perfect playground for big kids like me. For as soon as I step outside of the hotel lobby, it feels like fun is waiting to happen, no matter what time it is, no matter what I have planned or not planned. Today’s blog entry is about one such perfect Manhattan day.
So on this early Spring day with just the right amount of sun to temper a brisk wind, I take a short walk to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and catch part of a mass with a rather convoluted sermon that left me scratching my head…
Then back to Saks for a last round of shopping (who doesn’t love their express elevator to the shoe department!) and across the street to watch the skaters–love the JCrew store at this location, too…
Then it’s time for a really bad (and by bad I mean straight-to-the-derriere-good) veggie burger at the Shake Shack. No photographic evidence here of artery-clogging deliciousness. But in my defense I opt out of using transportation and walk the rest of the day. It’s really the best way to see the city anyway…
If NYC is your home, you can probably tell I’ve covered some grounds on foot from these pictures. I finally do get a break and rest my legs, however, when I make it to Broadway to catch a thrilling performance of American Idiot at the St. James Theater:
If you are a Green Day fan or just want to hear some great music, go see this show. It’s funny, bittersweet and moving all at the same time. It’s money well spent. After the show, with 21 Guns still ringing in my head, I go stand in one of the busiest intersections in the world and just soak it all in…
Listening to sounds in Times Square is like walking through a living dictionary because here you can hear all kinds of languages all around you.
From here it’s down to the bohemian Greenwich Village for dinner. Now I’m not really a foodie but I am a fan of reality TV, so if travel happens to bring me to one of the restaurants run by past winners of the show Top Chef, that’s just bonus.
Tonight I’m at Perilla, 9 Jones Street (between West 4 and Bleecker Sts.), Chef Harold Dieterle’s cozy place, and I’m glad I’ve brought my appetite. The food is exquisite.
And the night’s still young…
Tags: American Idiot, Green Day, Greenwich Village, Harold Dieterle, Manhattan, Perilla, Saks, Shake Shack, St. Patrick, Times Square
Now that the 4/18 Club has been established, my trips to NY will always begin with a board meeting called by Mlle President, Lil A, this time at a darling French bistro La Bonne Soupe:
She wants a full briefing on (1) the damage I’ve sustained in her town (dress and jacket that have since been taken back to the boutique for complimentary alterations)…
(2) the sights and sounds I’ve experienced…
and then (3) back to more of the shopping bits re Saks, Soho Chanel, and Banana Republic…
She, of the same shoe/bag/clotheshorse DNA, approves of my report thus far and off she sends me to hit the pavement for more stories…
Hello NYC!
Tags: Banana Republic, Chanel, La Bonne Soupe, NYC, Saks, Soho
I blow through San Francisco this morning yet still manage to pick up a Prada sweater and JPG tank at Saks.
There’s not a lot of traffic in the store as I think buyers are still waiting for the next round of markdowns. Because we are short on time, I only get to cover a couple of floors and do not make it to their shoe department. I am not a fan of drive-by shopping–I’m efficient and don’t loiter (much) but shopping on borrowed time interferes with my shopping mojo!– so I may have to finagle another jaunt to Union Square on our way back to LA in a few days. For now, we’re leaving SF behind…
and crossing the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge to reach the other side:
Even on a misty day, which in my opinion is a very dramatic way to see this city, there are plenty of tourists walking the bridge:
The view of Sausalito unfolding just beyond the bridge over the water is a breathtaking one, but on this foggy day I can’t get any clear photos to show you. The rest of the drive is green albeit ho-hum until we get closer to the resort. At that point, we drive through Santa Rosa on narrow, winding two-lane roads all the way to the private 675-acre golf retreat at Mayacama (www.mayacama.com) .
We go through two front gates,
and at the latter we are greeted warmly by an older gentleman who has been expecting us. He has the smile of someone who clearly loves working in paradise. The minute we go through his gate, however, my BlackBerry’s signal shuts off. Both phone and data services are lost! I repeat. Both phone and data services are lost! I am unplugged in Mayacama. I see deer and rabbits scurrying away as we drive up the hill toward the main lodge where we need to check in, and for a long second I almost want to scurry down the hill myself and run back outside the gate:
But I had committed to paradise, so paradise it is…it’s just that…I always thought there would be wifi in paradise. Anyway, as soon as we’re all checked in, I have only ten minutes to rush from my casita:
back to the main area for my spa appointment:
At least the concierge assures me that there is internet connection back at my room, even if she says she knows that I won’t have a need for it. I laugh hysterically inside my head but with a straight face tell her she’s right.
It’s a good thing every casita comes with a golf cart for easy transportation when you are in a rush to get somewhere, like to a tee time if you’ve overslept. Though this strikes me as odd because as soon as I get here, I have a feeling time has stopped. So you really can’t be late to anything, and it’s illegal to even feel rushed here. Even the wind is blowing differently, motionlessly.
Two and a half hours later, following a deep-tissue massage and grape seed facial (well, we are in wine country), I amble back to my casita, feeling like a revived yet overcooked noodle. The sun is high above my head and only when I get to my door do I realize that I had left the golf cart back at the lodge. See, my old city self would have mumbled an expletive and rushed back to fetch it, but the newly converted me doesn’t really care at this point. I could have just fallen down right in the middle of the road and taken a nap–that’s how relaxing the spa services were and how safe I feel out here in the middle of nowhere. I am practically all alone in my own private sanctuary at this moment because everyone is either on the golf course or is a staff member patrolling the grounds. I’m the lone city girl who doesn’t get golf and doesn’t yet know the extent of how cut off she’s soon about to become.
Tomorrow I will give you a tour of Mayacama. For now, there’s a huge bubble bath with my name on it. Plus I want to see what’s inside my welcome gift basket.
Tags: BlackBerry, Golden Gate Bridge, Mayacama Golf Resort, Saks, San Francisco, Santa Rosa
A couple of years I got to spend a week in NYC completely unplugged. No business meetings, no family obligations. Zero agenda. It was glorious. A week of roaming the island at leisure was one of my most memorable trips anywhere. I’d wake up and decide on an Uptown day for visiting Museum Mile and strolling through the posh neighborhoods. Central Park made a perfect muse for my photography.
On another day I’d hang out in Midtown to take in all the sights and sounds of the touristy Chrysler Building or Empire State Building. After grabbing a quick lunch I’d loiter around Saks Fifth Avenue near Rockefeller Center and work my way to Bergdorf, leaving a trail of destruction at shops in between.
But as much as I loved the serenity of the Upper East Side and the buzz from Midtown’s daily grind, it was not a complete NYC trip until I got in some Downtown time. Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Meatpacking District, Soho, Tribeca…all these neighborhoods–each with its own funky, hip vibe–were exactly what I loved most about this town. If I were a New Yorker, I’d definitely be a downtown girl.
This time around, I take a day out of diaper duty and hop on the 1 train downtown from 96th to Houston. I pop out on the street and head for the shops…
I have to confess that I do think about trading my LA home for one of these while walking through soho:
I make a quick stop into Kidrobot; I know I am much too old to like toys but I have a thing for cool packaging, and if there’s a bird of some sort involved then I’m definitely in! So I make a small contribution to the economy:
The little birds stay on her hat from the magnet:
At Prada I meet a charming sales associate who offers to stash a couple of dresses for me till sale hits in a few weeks. At Chanel another nice person takes an hour to go through all the new buys with me. I know for a fact the economy is still a stinker from all this attention. Is it wrong that I get the same high from shopping as from running a couple of miles? I tell myself again that I’m just helping the economy.
Sometimes the last thing you want to do is have a long, laborious lunch when you’re just hitting a stride somewhere. So when in NY, I grab a fast lunch at a chain called Così (http://getcosi.com/), and I believe I have been in all of its locations. The bread is that good. On this day I have the grilled salmon salad at the location near NYU:
On my way to work off lunch this is what I see…
But what stops me dead in my tracks is this Strand Bookstore–they’re not kidding about the 18 miles of books. You could just lock me up in the store and throw away the key:
Their art section is nothing short of amazing. I still can’t find the book on Francesco Clemente that I’ve been looking for but I make out like a bandit anyway. I’m not sure how far I can walk with a bunch of heavy books but I can’t help myself. Today I am a one-woman stimulus package!
Tags: Bergdorf, Cosi, Downtown, Empire State Building, Manhattan, Midtown, Rockefeller Center, Saks, Soho, Strand Bookstore, Uptown
It’s been almost five weeks since I started the bootcamp program to tone up my body. I’m here to report that I’ve put on two pounds, my jeans feel tighter and looser in different parts, and the 6-pack abs are still nowhere to be found. This is where I’m reminded of an YouTube video on how to fake abs. If I assessed my body’s jiggliness quotient (JQ) as cottage cheese level those five weeks ago, I’d say I’ve successfully upgraded to jello. Sigh. So the mochi I ate probably didn’t help my cause any either. Who knows, maybe in 4 more weeks my JQ will be at mochi level. For now, I’ll keep telling myself that I’m slowly building muscle mass and see what happens at the end of my bootcamp in mid-June.
I’ll admit I do feel stronger, more energized, and that’s enough to keep me vested in the program. The body image issue, however…well, instead of moping over my own theory of relativity (freefall from aging + inertia also from aging = long sleeves + lower hemlines) (is it any wonder I’m blogging about travel and fashion and not physics?), I exact my revenge on gravity with some retail therapy on the westside. Beverly Hills to be exact. How about we test out the gravitational pull between the boutiques and my checkbook?
I’ve probably driven down Wilshire Blvd a thousand times, and this is how it looks and sounds on a very windy day:
No, I don’t bury my sorrows in hard drinks doled out by seedy bartenders in dark bars (that’s only appropriate for birthdays). I prefer to escape in boxes upon boxes of Manolos and Louboutins showered upon me by my favorite shoe guy at Saks–doesn’t the store look all sunny and innocent on the outside…
when all kinds of sins of gluttony are committed inside?
I won’t confess to my own sins (what happens at Saks stays at Saks…er, in my closet) but how about I take you on a drive instead:
Lest you think it’s all rosy posy in this part of town, even the F word (foreclosure) has been whispered here–look closely at that yellow sign below:
And like any other American town, there are typical schools
and boring storefronts
just blocks down the tony bubble of my sweet escape.
Tags: Beverly Hills, Chanel, Louboutin, Manolo, Rodeo Drive, Saks
