Lunch in Greenwich

Greenwich Village is beautiful.

We'd spotted a lovely little restaurant as we drove through Greenwich Village on our open top bus tour the day before, and so we returned after our Boat Tour. all this city sightseeing is hard work you know! You have to keep your strength up.

It was a lovely little local place, with delicious food next, door to a beautiful florist, whose flowers encroached on the restaurant so that it had a gorgeous outdoor seating area, as well as really beautiful gardens. I so wish I could live in NY and know everywhere. Each place I went past I wanted to visit, especially in Greenwich Village, where all the cafes are adorable and little and look like exciting things could happen in them and may well be the favourite place for the Love of My Life to go for coffee.

Added Bonus: The restaurant did gluten free pizza!! I was tres excited, especially as mine tasted exactly the same as my dads gluten containing pizza. New York is great like that.

 

 

After a very lovely, relaxed lunch, we wondered through Greenwich Village. I love that area. I want to live there, or in Chelsea when I live in New York. Yes, well, a girl can dream.

 

 

We also spent quite some time at the impromptu Mulry Square memorial to 9/11, which started spontaneously from children's art dedicated to the memory of the victims. It has since grown and gained a protected status, becoming known as Tiles For America. It sits on the corner of 7th Avenue and West 11th Street and is really beautiful. It's very understated and very touching.

 





The Statue of Liberty

On my familys's second day in the city, we continued to embrace all things toursit and did the water bus (aka boat) tour around Staten Island and all along the tip of Manhattan.

 

The Circle Line Sight Seeing starts from Pier 57 on the West side and goes all the way past the Statue of Liberty and up to Brooklyn Bridge. It's clearly a massively tourist thing to do and so is quite expensive and is certainly not where you'll be finding any locals, but all visitirs have to do it. The views are increadible and the info our tour guide gave us was all really cool, and well, who doesn't like cruising down the river in the sun??

 

 

Seeing the Statue of Liberty from the water was increadible, and very provocative of the memories of past New York. I suddenly realised what it must have felt like for all those immigrants - real people, like Chris and his father - who came to America, seeking freedom and a new life. She stands, so imposing and comforting rising from the water. And yet, so many immigrants were turned away, or sepertaed from their families. Our very knowledgable (and very American) tour guide nearly made me cry as he described the way that, despite America being know as the land of immigrants and the land of hope and freedom, many immigrants were turned away on Staten Island...

 

 

I loved exchanging roles so much; I totally embraced my tourist side; look at me taking my tourist snaps. I want to treat London like I'm a tourist.

 



 

It was a lovely way to see the city. If you can, totally do it.

 

You don't have to get the chocolate ice cream with sprinkles for breakfast. Only my sister did that.

 

We also passed on buying the statue of Libery head gear. Tempting though wning a spiky green foam headband is, I thought I wouldn't get much wera out of it. It was a shame really. 

 

 

Times Square Can't Shine As Bright As You.

My sister in Times Square. Isn't she lovely.

My Family Hit New York

Seeing the family again was actually really emotional!!

I was at the hotel when they arrived and it all went a bit mental. The hotel staff were a bit bemused but, being New Yorkers, acted like we were in a film and sort of joined in. I was half expecting a round of applause.

We settled into the lovely hotel Belleclaire and I danced in the bathroom and spread out on the double bed and generally revelled in the luxury of it all. My parents clearly thought I must have actually lived in a cardboard box on the streets of New York by my reaction. The YMCA was really not that bad and was certainly lots of fun. Please don't let me put you off. Certainly, the bill for my two week stay was nearly the same as the bill for our four night stay in The Belleclaire. Admittedly, there were the four of us, but it does justify the slightly depressing lighting of the YMCA at any rate.

And then we hit New York, all together!! It was so cool, my family all being there. I couldn't quite believe that me and my sister were walking down Broadway together. I kept grabbing her arm and being like, 'omg you're actually here!!' And she was like, yes.



Vix and I, on our first Open Top Bus Tour. Happy days.

Immedietly we did an Open Top Bus Tour with Grey Line Sightseeing Company, which was lots and lots of fun, especially as I was able to fill in extra bits of info, on top of the tour guide info, for my family, such as '...and that's my fave place for iced coffee and they told me that I have a bautiful accent'. Convinced they loved it.

That evening we went to this tiny little place for sushi. It was a two minute walk from our hotel and clearly very local. It was all buzzy and full of cool people. The food was a m a z i n g and we had such a great catch up.

For pudding we went and got froyo from 16 Handles which is a fab self service place with 16 flavours (gettit?!) and I got really excited and basically got every flavour apart from boring ones like 'natural'. It's actually so great that I've put the link to its website (http://www.16handles.com/) because I want everyone to know all about it and the flavour of the month is salted caramel and ohh to be in  New York still...  I have got really into froyo since I got back and me and Ellie (of http://elliemaybakes.blogspot.co.uk/) go all the time and I'm going to keep you updated on that because we've become quite the connoisseurs.

We sat outisde in the warm evening and ate our froyo and revelled in being all together. I'd never spent such a long time away from my family, and in particular my sister who had gone to Greece before I went away, and although I had skyped them regularly, it just wasn't the same. Everything was hilarious and as we wondered back to West 77th and our hotel I felt so happy I thought I might cry.

Saturday Morning Vintage Shopping In NY

So Rain left. I went for a swim and had a shower and then hailed a taxi - my second in one day!!! I was so excited - and then crippled the driver with my embarrassingly big suitcase. I did warn him that it was heavy but he said that he was 'pretty strong' and then picked it up and said 'Jeeesus that is heavy'. And I was like, well yeah. I was there for over two weeks!!
It was mortifying having to get someone to help me get it off the luggage carousel when I arrived though.
Anyway, I went to the hotel that me and my family, who were flying out that day, had booked and dumped my bag with the very lovely concierge (who my dad later became, like, best friends with) and got a bit excited about how luxurious it looked in comparison to the YMCA. It was quite luxurious but, looking back, probably not quite as luxurious as my poor hostel-bathroom-sharing accustomed brain thought at the time.

Then I went vintage shopping.

Ohh I felt like such a local!!
(NB: getting really emotional remembering it all. I want to be there now!! I bet it's beautiful this time of year, with all the trees in Central Park just on the cusp of autumn...)
I went to the Chelsea vintage market 'The Garage' which is taken over by all things vintage on the week end so that the cars that fill it during the week have to retreat. I spent ages wondering about and chatting to the owners. They were all lovely, especially the eccentric, jewelled cat eye glasses sporting seller of several beautiful 1920s dresses (all sadly very much out of my price range) who encouraged me try on a fantastic beaded number from the 80s even though she knew I totally couldn't afford it. I swirled about it and we discussed the difference between British and American vintage and how much I love the flapper style and my love of all things 20s and she 'simply adooored' my accent. It was all very jolly.

I got really into the idea of long silk slips worn as summer dresses which would have looked lovely and whimsical on balmy Portugal evenings. Amazingly, I managed to restrain myself. I didn't even buy this gorgeous red mohair jumper!! It was very sad but I thought that really, given the taxi drivers reaction to my bag, I couldn't possibly get any more into it, especially given my v heavy Harper's book and new romper. It was an amazing act of restraint for me, given my past vintage shopping history, and my mum couldn't quite believe it.

After a good hour of vintage immersed happiness I went for coffee at a lovely place opposite Billy's Bakery, where all the locals were eating pancakes. I sat outside and got coffee and watched the world go by.

 

My coffee came with a heart and I realised how deeply I'd fallen in love with New York.

 

 

It was weird, as I sat there contemplating my time in New York, I realised that my independent time as a near local was coming to an end. I'd promised to show my family my favourite bits of the city, but I knew that I would become a tourist. The night before me and Rain had tried to think of best and worst bits (which I always do when I go on holiday) and I think it says something that we couldn't decide what our favourite bit was (too many) and simply couldn't think of a worst bit. Going through security at JFK?? Even that was no where near as bad as I thought it would be.

 

I was sooooo looking forward to seeing may parents and my sister and telling them everything and, I know it sounds cringey, but I was really proud of myself. I smugly sipped my coffee and then headed back to the hotel, savouring my last few hours as an independent New Yorker. But don't worry; I'll return as an independent New Yorker. Have no doubt about that.

Rain Leaves and New York Weeps #2 - Adoption and Other Stuff Occurs in New York

So Chris adopted us. We were lost and he was cycling the same way and so he led us all the way back to the bike hire shop, along the river and through the safest roads. He told us that 'when I go you go, when I stop you stop' and we'd be totally safe and wouldn't get run over.
Which we were.
He was so great.
I know this sounds a little dangerous but he was so clearly not an axe murder and wasn't creepy at all but just really lovely. I would say not to be too trusting, but at the same time being too cynical is sad and we were in a really busy area so he couldn't kidnap us without being seen.
Chris was an American Greek who moved to New York when he was eight and who's father had 50 cents in his pocket when he arrived. His grown up daughter had just gone on holiday for the first time to the tiny island that he had left in search of a better life and he was clearly in need of a daughter (or two) to look after. He grew up in Greenwich Village, next door to Robert de Niro and remembered when the city was all three storey appartment buildings and hated the new high rise skyscrapers thta dominate the city and 'block out the sun'. He had worked in the Dakota building and saw John Lennon's blood and was never a fan of 'that Yoko Ono one'. He had been in the army and thought that the New York Military Hospital symbolised all that was great about America.
He was, I'm positive, my favourite person that I met in New York. Bold statement I know.

Rain's last night was spent in Cafe Wha? (Our fave. we loved having a fave. Especially such a cool, underground fave). We had THE BEST time.

We sat right at the front and the amazingly cool lead singer winked at us before he began swaggering about the tiny stage. He wore nail varnish and told the audience to never take any bullshit and to always be happy with who you are. I cheered.

There was a woman getting married the next day and we all celebrated 'real love' and I fell even further in love with the idea of falling in love in New York and then getting married in New York too. There was a birthday party too and so we all sang happy birthday and everyone was mental. The band sang at us to 'get up, stand up' and 'fucking dance' because if beautiful English girls weren't going to dance, who were?? We obliged, and joined the crowded dance floor for Twist and Shout, and did the twist, and shouted. I love New York.

 

 

Then the Latin American music started and everyone went even more mental and there was this beautiful women with waist length blonde hair who pulled me and Rain towards her and made us dance the salsa with her. I can't do that (I can just about bop in time to a beat) and looked like a hippo washing in mud next to her, but we had fun and she was lovely and gorgeous and I told her boyfriend so. She kissed me three times on the cheek. I love New York.  

 

 

We took the subway and danced home, and soaked up the magic of New York so that it would always live in our bones.

 

Rain leaving the next morning (very early; we were not a pretty site) was horribly emotional but I did get to hail a taxi for Rain which was fun and I (once again) felt like I was in a film, and ticked off a life ambition on my Bucket List. Next; hail a yellow taxi, jump in and shout 'FOLLOW THAT TAXI!'

 

I'll keep you updated on that.

Saying Goodbye.

On Rain's last day in New York we decided that we had to do something amazing and unforgettable to say goodbye to the city we'd so rapidly fallen in love with. 
So we decided to hire bikes. There is no better way to say goodbye to a city than to cycle through it. 
We started in Central Park (which was quite a scary experience because there's this really aggressive but utterly complex one way traffic system IN THE PARK and all the roller bladers and runners get really quite angry if you accidentally find yourself on the wrong side of the road) and then we cut all the way from the park across Broadway along West 97th Street to the Hudson River.

Here I am, at the Hudson River. On my bike. In New York. Wearing striped high waisted shorts. Life is jolly. 

We then cycled all the way along the river, stopping off for iced coffee in the shadow of The Freedom Tower - still in the midst of triumphantly rising from the gap left in the New York skyline - in the Financial District, where lots of stressed looking men and women in suits (who were undoubtedly v jel of of our fun filled day involving bikes with baskets and sunglasses) were scurrying like ants.

Across Brooklyn Bridge we went, which was even better not in the rain. The sky scrapers take on a majestic quality from the removed position in the middle of the East River, the sheer scale of it audacious. Despite it being our second viewing, we were once again awed into an embarassing tourist silence.

Crossing into Brooklyn was cool. Like, seriously, COOL. I think it's amazing the way each part of New York has it's own unique and highly identifiable character and atmosphere - you really can live a thousand lives in one day.  Brooklyn is more chilled than Manhattan; the edgier, more stoned, more laid back, dressed-in-second-hand-thrift-store-clothes kid sister to the uber chic, frantically fashionable, desperately busy Manhattan.

We drifted past games of basket balls and lounging kids on steps towards Dumbo, the area between Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridge which is renound for being, well, cool. We cycled down Jay Street, past a group of guys with long hair jamming with guitars in their red van.  Achingly cool patroners, mainly wearing John Lennon sunglasses, sat on missmatching funiture drinking coffee outside bars that, I just know, turn into hotbeds of excitement and music and debauchery and love when darkness falls and the city lights twinkle twice across the river.

We sat in the newly renovated water side park and admired Manhattan from a distance; I especially liked the way we could see both bridges - it lended a circularity to the city, which I enjoyed - and so it was decided that our day of adventure would not be complete without cycling over Williamsburg Bridge too. Besides, during the dog walks of my childhood Daddy would always insist on a circular route though Richmond Park, and has imbedded in me a desire to never retread my footsteps. 
So we got back on the bikes and headed off, all very Olympic spirited I felt. Flying the flag for Team GB, us. 

We paused at Williamsburg Bridge-end to consult the map and immediately Chris adopted us. We hadn't planned our new route; we were lost and he was cycling the same way, so he led us all the way back to the bike hire shop, along the river and through the safest roads. He told us that 'when I go you go, when I stop you stop' and we'd be totally safe and wouldn't get run over.

Which we were, and we didn't. 
He was so great.

Chris was an American Greek who moved to New York when he was eight and who's father had 50 cents in his pocket when he arrived. His grown up daughter had just gone on holiday for the first time to the tiny island that he had left in search of a better life and he was clearly in need of a daughter (or two) to look after. He grew up in Greenwich Village, next door to Robert de Niro and remembered when the city was all three storey appartment buildings and hated the new high rise skyscrapers that dominate the city and 'block out the sun'. He had worked in the Dakota building and saw John Lennon's blood and was 'never a fan of that Yoko Ono one'. He had been in the army and thought that the New York Military Hospital symbolised all that was great about America. 
He was, I'm positive, my favourite person that I met in New York. Big claims. 

Rain's last night was spent in Cafe Wha? (Our fave. We loved having a fave. Especially such a cool, underground fave). We had THE BEST time. 

We sat right at the front and the amazingly cool lead singer winked at us before he began swaggering about the tiny stage. He wore nail varnish and told the audience to never take any bullshit and to always be happy with who you are. I cheered. 

There was a woman getting married the next day and we all celebrated 'real love' and I fell even further in love with the idea of falling in love in New York. There was a birthday party too and so we all sang happy birthday and everyone was a bit mad. The band sang at us to 'get up, stand up' and told us to 'fucking dance! Because if beautiful English girls weren't going to dance, who were??'. We obliged, and joined the crowded dance floor for Twist and Shout, and did the twist, and shouted. I love New York.

 

Then the Latin American music started and everyone went even more mad and there was this beautiful women with waist length blonde hair who pulled me and Rain towards her and made us dance the salsa with her. I can't do that (I can just about bop in time to a beat) and looked like a hippo washing in mud next to her, but we had fun and she was lovely and gorgeous and I told her boyfriend so. She kissed me three times on the cheek. I love New York.  

 

We took the subway and danced home, and soaked up the magic of New York so that it would always live in our bones.

Take Me Back To New York

We’re really going back in time now, all the way back to my last day. (I know, still. I’ve dragged it out to three posts. It was that emotional).

I went and sat in Central Park with my fave frappe. The day before I’d been asked if I was having my ‘usual’.  It was beyond exciting. I am such a New Yorker. Even the guys trying to flog bike hire have stopped thrusting leaflets at me because I look like such a local. Hashtag proud.

I sat at the base of a tree and leant against its trunk and drank in the park and its people. I tried to take a mental photo and burn the picture into my mind. I looked back on the past two weeks and everything that we’d done and all that I’d completed. I just couldn’t believe it was done.

Then I opened my present. I did it really reallyyy slowly so that I didn’t rip any of the wrapping paper. And guess what Lisa gave me?? Guess, guess!! 

I finally unfurled the paper to reveal the hard back glossy cover of ‘Harper’s Bazaar: Greatest Hits’ with its stunning image of a sheer rose coloured ball gown caught in momentous movement. It’s a beautiful book. I just need a glass coffee table on which to place it now. And a lifestyle that incorporates a glass coffee table.

So I sat in the early evening sun – the hurricane threat had not yet been realised  - and poured over the images. I’ve had so many perfect New York moments it’s actually getting ridiculous.

I headed home in time to meet my partner in NY crime as she got back from work and we went a bit mental congratulating ourselves that we’d completed the whole internship shebang/being really very sad that it was over/generally being overly emotional. We’re both v in touch with our emotions so it was a bit of an emotional mess really. Lots of shrieking.

 Then, once that was done, we had to decide what to do that evening. The storm that had been promised suddenly rolled in across the Manhattan skyline (no hurricane. Phew) so that it got very  dark very quickly and limited our evening options to indoor activities. We pondered and we dithered. Obviously.

And then I remembered that my sister’s boyfriend Billy, who had jealously examined the New York map before  I left and compiled a list of must do activities, had told me that I had to, to make up for leaving him at home whilst we  all jetted off to New York, go to Billy’s Bakery and think of him. So we looked it up and that’s what we did.

The original Billy’s Bakery is in Chelsea (there are now two others in Tribeca and Nolita) so we subwayed off to 24^th and 9^th. Chelsea is a lovely district – really beautiful town houses split into apartments with elegant steps and wrought iron windows and neat little front gardens – with lots of quirky little shops. We found Billy’s Bakery very easily now that we’re so great at navigating the street/avenue/grid system (say nada about a six year old being able to do it. I know it’s easy; still proud) and, although it was tiny, we managed to get seats by squeezing into the quaint corner seats next to a very muscular gay couple. Again with the whole dither dither that follows us wherever we go. There were so many cakes and they all looked A-MAAAAZE-ING. Banana cupcake with cream cheese icing. Chocolate cupcake. Carrot cupcake. Red velvet cupcake. Classic cupcake. Red berry cobbler pie (what we would call crumble) which was on a platter to be sampled and was out of this world. Ice box cake (looked like stacks and stacks of oreos). Banan cream pie. Mini cheesecake. Peanut butter pie (obviously. Looked FAB).  Key Lime Pie. Huge three layer cakes. The choice was immense and entirely overwhelmed us and it took hours. We eventually settled for sharing a red velvet cupcake with a latte.

Omg totally judge books by their covers in this place. It looked delicious and it tasted freaking amazing.

We sat at the cute communal table and watched the storm thunder on outside. We felt so cosy as we nursed our coffees and prolonged the eating of our cupcake. We managed to drag it out for all of about ten minutes. TRUST it’s so hard to resist for any length of time.

Bily’s Bakery stayed open till 11 o’clock in true NYC style. I love that; I love that what is effectively a small neighbourhood café which happens to sell fantastic cakes stays open until nearly midnight. We were so happy and comfortable there, discussing our must have wardrobe additions, that we stayed until it closed. They had to kick us, and the very nice guys who had sat next to us, out. The very nice guys who had sat next to us were a couple of years older than us and lived in the area (we were jel) and one had studied for a year at York (so had lived, he informed us, in both Old York and New York, which I appreciated) and were enjoying a huge collection of Billy’s Bakerys’ goodies. One had the Peanut Butter Pie and promised me that it was heaven for one’s tastebuds. I vowed to return and experience it.

We eventually, reluctantly, left. It had stopped raining and our journey back was jolly, full of plans to try and recreate the wonders of Billy’s Bakery. I’ll let you know how that goes.

Random moment: as we were about to enter the Subway station, chatting away about God knows what (probably still how to make red velvet cupcake and how delicious ours was) a man stopped us to ask where we were from. On hearing London he shook us both warmly by the hand and congratulated us on our ‘damn fine accents’ and then loped off, readjusting his baggy jeans as he did so.

Only in New York, baby.

    

Rainy NYC

Remember how I told you about Brooklyn Bridge in the rain? And remember how I tried really reallyyy hard to describe it to you??

Ok, you don't have to remember. If you don't remember it's fine. In fact, if you never read it, it's totally fine. I'm just imagining some blank faces like the ones my face used to automatically fall into whenever Mr Davidson directed a question at me in physics and so I want to put you all out of your misery.

My description didn't do it justice, so here it is, in physical form.



Beautiful Rainy Brooklyn Bridge...



Me, with no umbrella. It was wet.

True New Yorker

I needed to share this view from my run in Central Park. Not bad, huh?
If only the view in the gym was that interesting, I'd be there a lot more often...

Times Square Relived

Yellow Taxi & American Flag. Living the dream, baby.



We didn't look like nutters at all, takimg photos from the other side of the road...



Kanye felt at home.



An Apology (But Blame The Parents)

Firstly, sorry for getting all behind and suddenly dropping off a cliff (in metaphorical blog terms, rather than actual death and tragedy rebel Without A Cause terms). My family arrived and I have suddenly turned into acting tourguide so everything got a bit hectic. So, as ever, you can blame the parents. Just like in Rebel Without a Cause! omg the connections are just coming in so thick and fast; you'll just never guess what we did last night. Actually, I'm afraid you'll have to wait to find out because if I start at the end and then just hop about in time for a bit until I have said everything there is to say about my last days in NY, it might get a bit confusing, and although you're all bright and can definitely cope, I never fully understood Doctor Who so I would get totally lost and feel like I'm floating in a very disorganised and unstructured mess and start repeating things. Which would clearly be awful because a) I can't deal with that amount of chaos (my need for routine again, can definitely blame the parents for that one) and would get all anxious and b) anyone who is using valuable time to read my partly nonsensical ramblings on New York would definitely not appreciate repetition and it would be highly dull and c) catching up might actually take, like, four weeks anyway because I have done so much and there is so much to talk about and so much to catch up on that repetition would make it take, like, four months. And no one wants that. Aaaaand in four months time who knows what I'll be doing or where I'll be and I will probably want to be focusing on that. So to recap; no jumping about in time, Doctor Who style.

So. Where were we??

Oh yes, that was it.
I'd been given my new silk romper and was uber excited to trry it on.
After the designer had left I got back to work, doing some planning for the min Editorial Awards Harper's are entering, getting together all the hard copies and electronic copies that were needed for each category and entry.
I did more of my sad 'last time' rituals. Whenever I go anywhere I get really attached to it and have to, like, say goodbye to my toilet.
I took some photos of my view but I doubt it will do it justice. Standing there, on the 25th floor of Hearst Tower, overlooking the Manhattan skyline on my last day, I felt suddenly empowered. I had been shit scared two weeks ago, and yet here I was, alive. In fact, more than alive; I had totally owned it. The whole experience had been incredible and I had done it and, I think, done it well. I gave myself a pat on the back (in my head. I had, thus far, managed to keep my total insanity hidden from view of the Harper's office and appeared quite sane. I did not intend to ruin that at the last moment).

Amazingly, a hurricane was predicted for that afternoon. Lisa was, she informed me, terrified. hurricanes are not regular occurrences in New York City and I too was not looking forward to that. I'd felt that I was actually inside the eye of the storm whilst the thunder had raged and the lightening struck on Monday (twenty five floors is high up) so I'm imagining that a hurricane at that height would have been scarier. There was mass hysteria. Hurricane-alert was a new fave excuse to do no work.

My last task at Harper's was back with the archives. Me and the archives became bessies. I had another huge list from a woman called Hanna of issues I needed to pull and helped her sort them and take them to her office on the 18th floor. I also made friends with an intern shadowing a scary looking lady in blood red shoes. Typical me to achieve that on the last day.

Then, saving the best till last, Lisa took me on a massive tour of the Harper's office. We saw the production team and the art department and the stylists and the make up artists and the beauty department and the birth place of all the features and a tall beautiful girl with short dark hair cropped close to her face who looked like Audrey Hepburn and was wearing zebra print trousers being photographed. We saw girls pulling out clothes from rails of choice and lying them on the floor to piece together outfits, a feature on denim and diamonds (big next season: you heard it here first folks), hundreds of hats, a wall dedicated to Manolo's, an entire section of floor space devoted to the red soles of Louboutin, belts, gloves, even some fur coats and a cupboard for beauty products bigger than my kitchen. Lisa also got the heads of each department to explain to me what they do and how they do it and show me what they were working on, which was so interesting and quite exciting. I loved seeing the ideas for a feature based on the statues on fifth avenue take shape and develop, and it's so cool to think that it will appear as a fully fledged feature in a few months time, but that I've already seen it. I'm in the know, me, what can I say. I also saw how much putting together the magazine is like piecing together a puzzle. My head hurt a little bit afterwards. But ohh it was so exciting, I loved it!! I felt so like I was actually a part of the magazine and I was all like, ooh I think I can see myself here, in this environment, as a career. Certainly, the features and editorial is something I would love to do, although I am aware that I'll have to do soooo much work to be able to do anything like that.
I do think it's unfair the way the fashion magazine industry is portrayed; it's run by smart, intelligent individuals who have to work hard and think hard. It's not about matching a bag to a coat and it's not run by shallow people obsessed with clothes and being thin and it isn't like 'The Devil Wears Prada'. *Rant over* Ahem. Sorry about that, I'll sit back down now...

My tour ended at 4.45 on the dot and I was suddenly like waaaa this means I'm leaving for the last time! I wouldn't tell Lisa I'd see her tomorrow and I'd never hurtle down the 25 floors so fast that my tummy flipped again. It was all very emosh. No really.
Lisa gave me a card and an absurdly heavy wrapped present and a hug, which was sweet. I logged off and shut down my jazzy Mac a final time and, taking a quick snap of the huge 'Bazaar' emblazoned on the imposing glass door of the equally imposing office in which I had just spent two weeks, left Hearst Tower.

I couldn't believe it was all over and that I had actually done that and that it had gone so horribly fast. I'm an emotional wreck (trust me, that is not exaggeration) so it will come as no surprise to those who know me that, as I headed for my daily post work frappe, I had tears emptying themselves down my cheek. They were neither happy tears nor sad tears, just a complete well-of-emotion-tears.

Always good to be in touch with your emotions, I find.
Yes that includes when watching the Pampers ad. You can probably blame the parents for that too, actually.

Baseball Lessons and Juxtaposition in NYC

Having been told that the next day would be my last and thus having realised my ambition of surviving my internship with no major mishaps (yet. There's always still time I guess) it seemed like a good time to fulfill my other ambition; that of learning the rules of baseball. Or softball. Is there a difference?? I'm not sure.

Anyway, there's a pitch really close to where we're staying so I trotted off to be American and sit on the bleachers and say stuff like 'Way to go!' Basically, it's rounders, isn't it? Rounders with some added rules for complication and more equipment and some magical cue where they all know that it's time to swap who's batting and who's fielding.

So maybe I'm not entirely sure of all the rules yet, but I'm definitely getting there. Sitting on the wooden bleachers in the warm evening eating cherries and watching the baseball game in all its Americaness was perfect. And it made me want to join a sports team! It was all so jolly and friendly that me and Rain have decided that at uni we're going to become members of every club going. I haven't played netball in years but there's no reason why I shouldn't start again.

We especially loved the white tops with red sleeves in true baseball style.

Once the game had ended (I do know who won but only because of their jubilation - I got the impression that they were the underdogs and not very used to winning) we came up with the really bright idea that we simply had to see the Statue of Liberty at night. Obviously, we're poor students and so never want to spend any more money than we need to, which basically translates as spending no money on anything but clothes and sustenance, and so decided that we could totally not get the ferry and just, like, see it from the shore. And so we headed out to the river.

Once we got there we realised that our bright idea was maybe not so bright and that if you squint really hard you can just about make out the Statue of Liberty in the darkness. So that was a teeny bit of a fail.

But the river at night was beautiful. All the lights blinked back at their reflection in the river and Brooklyn Bridge was lit up like Christmas and the half moon hung over the water. It was like magic, especially as we stumbled upon the wistful clearing of the waterfront out of the urban jungle of the financial district totally by accident and without warning. As we drifted down the river we were drawn to the lights and cool bustle of Pier 17, which once again showed the way that New York is a city of contradictions and juxtaposition. Everything that conflicts is next to each other, and somehow match perfectly.

Pier 17 had loads of bars and restaurants, and some cool little stalls, and a couple of uber cool people dancing, which seems obligitory everywhere you go in New York. We keep making plans for when we all (the six of us girls) come back here when we're all 21. Until then, we've vowed to treat London differently; more like we're on holiday, more like it's the first time we're seeing it and less like everywhere takes ages to get to and probably wont be worth it when we get there.

Wise Words and Inspiration from Valentino

I went print crazy today and wore my low back Aztec print vest with my silk and fringed purple baroque swirl kimono and white city shorts. I love a good bit of print and colour clashing.

I have also been inspired by Harper's to get more red in my wardrobe. And like, actually wear it too. Valentino said that 'red is the colour that never fades into the background' and I think that it's time I stop fading into the background and started standing out a bit more. No one's ever going to fall in love with me if they can't even see me.

This inspiration came about because a recent Harper's image was needed for a banner on the website, so it needed to work horizontally. It was my task to set about finding this image, which was lovely because I got to trawl through the well section - the bit with all the beautiful pictures and fashion shoots - of all the magazines. I found a couple which I thought might work and Lisa and I then went through them and picked out our favourites. It took me nearly all day which, seeing as how I'm the girl who takes several old copies of Vogue and Harper's and Elle babysitting with me so that I can spend hours tearing out photos and images and ads to stick on my wall, it was pretty much a perfect day.

The final choice that they chose from the two pictures we sent them was of a girl standing in the desert in a scarlet chiffon gown that was caught spectacularly in the wind. I guess Valentino knows his stuff...

Failing the red tactic, I might just go about shouting. Here, as soon as I open my mouth I get more attractive. A man serving me coffee today told me I have a 'beautiful accent'.

Then, finally, when all else has proved useless, I'll dare to stare. Several people I know swear by it.

Spiritual Home

I'd arranged to meet Rain after work on Tuesday in Little Italy, because it's really close to where she works at Storefront Gallery in Nolita/Soho area. I am SUCH a subway pro, and only had to quickly double check that the train I was getting on went to Grand Street. The guy I asked wasn't sure but the train doors don't stay open for long so I leaped on regardless, because I was pretty sure I was right and I didn't want him to miss his train because of me. And then, bless him, he went off and had a look and I was completely unaware and he was like, yeah it does, and I was just like awww New Yorkers are so nice!

Anyway, I successfully reached Grand Street and successfully reached Mulberry Street which is the hub of Little Italy and successfully met Rain there. The only flaw in our very successful execution of our very successfully thought out plan was that Rain had, right at the last minute, been asked to return to work at seven, meaning we only had an hour to eat.

But it was fine! We found a lovely little Italian restaurant (not hard, I have to say) and explained that we needed to be quick and they were very helpful. We sat outside on cute rickety wooden furniture and the food was delicious, and very authentically Italian, and the people were lovely. Rain had to dash off but I spent a bit of time wandering about Little Italy. Several old men sat outside an Italian restaurant and yelled amicably at each other in Italian. A beautiful old car, which was properly 'car shaped', like the type that kids draw, and bronze, also sat outside with it's windows down and nobody in it, blaring out old jazz and Latino tunes which really made me feel like I was on the set of Arthur Millers 'A View of The Bridge'. I was once again struck by the crazyness and randomness of the city, and the way that, on every street, there's something different going on; as I returned to Grand Street Subway station and walked through Chinatown I had to weave through pairs of people crouching on the pavement having their palms read and heed a warning of 'HEADS' to avoid a wayward basketball from an impromptu match that had broken out on the corner.

It was still quite early when I got back to 59th Street so I took the scenic route home through the park. I love that the bike hire is open 24 hours a day and that the skateboarders were still showing off by the fountain. The city that never sleeps also never disappoints.

It's Tough But Someone's Gotta Do It

On Tuesday Lisa sent me on errand. I had to take some weird like bit of paper (it might have been about people getting paid. I do not know) to a building on West 37th Street at Fifth Avenue. Hearst Tower is on West 57th at Eighth Avenue. It was an hour round trip, although I was walking quite slowly because it was quite hot and there was lots of interesting stuff to look at, like the Yayoi Kusama spotted Louis Vuitton store. In fact, I walked all the way down Fifth Avenue (which, now that I think about it, may have been a bit of a long way round and so may have also added to the journey time) and ahhh it was amazing. All the designer shops, all the beautiful window displays, all the people being whisked out of said stores and into waiting cars who just exuded money. Lots and lots of money. Economic crisis what now?

My favourite window had just one beautiful dress in it. It was flapper style, with white feathers forming the skirt, and from the drop waist up it was made of hundreds of tiny pearls. It was gorgeous and for a moment I had to stop and stare and then remind myself that it's rude to leave one's mouth open like that. It was exactly what I had imagined my prom dress to look like and almost found (and thank God I didn't found it! I love the dress I wore to our leavers ball, but I wouldn't have been able to wear it knowing that my fantasy dress existed in actuality and was horribly, horribly out of my price range).

It was such a great excursion; sipping smoothie in the sunshine as I wandered around New York is a really poor excuse for work. 

That afternoon I did more archive stuff and admin-y bits and pieces. I love sitting with the art department folk; all the pictures are stunning and the girls look gorgeous and those shoes are simply diviiine. I've also seen the editing first hand. I know we've all been told it but it's true; those long legs we're all so jel of? Yeah, they're fake. 

Perfection really doesn't exist. So that was a nice confidence boost.

There was also a raffle which, sadly, I wasn't involved in, but basically it consisted of the staff getting designer bags. Lots and lots of designer bags. Amber, who sits behind me, won the most expensive item; a huge cream leather Louis Vuitton affair which caused a little frisson of envy to pass through the office. She promptly emptied everything out of her old bag and didn't put it down for the rest of the day. 

Side note: I wore my new Mango silk coral dress with cut out back. Tres Chic. 

Last Times

omg I'm so sad. To think that this is the last time that I'll walk down Eighth Avenue to work and stop off for my fruit salad and coffee; that this is the last time I'll use my visitor card to get into Hearst Tower; the last time I'll tell the doorman to have a nice day; the last time that I'll be corrected for calling 'beets' 'beetroot' whilst ordering my salad at Balduccios; the last time that I'll suddenly catch sight of the view out of the glass walls and be totally awed.

It's so strange; I'm so comfortable here now. In the morning I greet Lisa and settle down at my desk and check my emails, and I know where everything is and how everything works and more or less who everyone is. Compared to the nervous and unsure new girl who arrived last Monday I feel so different!    

I left slightly earlier than normal so that I could buy flowers from the stall near work and Rain and I spent ages last night dithering over what to write in our thank you cards. Lisa was so sweet when I gave it all to her; all 'Ohh don't be silly you didn't have to!' and gave me a hug. I really like her, she's laid back and cool but also really on everything so she should be intimidating, but she's not, she's really sweet and has made this whole experience so worthwhile and fun for me when it could easily have been awful. 

Today her friend came in to show her some clothes from her resort collection from a design called Isola Isabella and she let me sit in. It was so exciting and they were all lovely! 

She lives on a boat because her and her husband sail those massive yachts that rich people hire out, so she's sailed the world. I'm pretty sure I'm not describing this properly, but her life sounded so exciting! I now want to go  on a boat to track wales for six weeks straight after university and then basically never get off. What a way to see the world! We had quite a long chat about my trip round Europe, with Rome apparently being her favourite city after New York. 

So her designs stemmed from watching women on these yachts and what they pack and what they actually wear, and how 'vacation' clothes need to work better. Apparently, the idea was not just 'beach to bar or day to night, but day to night and then home too'. So all the clothes were beautiful blues and corals and pinks, inspired by the cobbled streets and roof tiles of Italy, all in gorgeously soft silk fabrics. I'm not a fashion writer so I don't know how to properly describe the beautiful draping of the skirts or the perfect pleats of the silk drawstring waist shorts or the high necked low scoop back blouse which perfectly fulfilled my backless garment fantasies, but trust me, they were lovely. Lisa put on a blue maxi with a waterfall skirt over her clothes and then just kept it on for the rest of the meeting, which I loved. And I wanted to steal the silk shorts, they were so impractical and lovely that I just adored them. Thankfully, I didn't need to steal anything. They gave me a lilac silk 'romper' (which I thiiiink means playsuit) that Lisa said I had to take because I would look super cute in it and it would brighten up rainy London. And after that reasoning, how could I refuse. I'm so excited to try it on! 

Sadness

omg tomorrow's my last day! Lisa just told me she's moving house on Friday so she wont be in which means I wont be in.

Sadness!!! I can't believe it's ending already, it's gone so quickly.

I've got a box of truly British Fortnum and Mason biscuits sorted already and will write a thank you card and am going to buy flowers tomorrow morning.
So the big question now is; which planned outfit do I ditch?? This is a serious dilemma.

NY Defeats Hardy Brits.

We so enjoyed Roman Holiday in Bryant Park last week that on Monday night we decided to return. We had no idea what film was playing, but it's the kind of cool place that will always be showing something either totally unheard of and weird and amazing, or a complete classic, and either one seemed good. Plus, the amazing setting and fun of a picnic (I am actually obsessed with picnics. I do not know why, but I love them. At every opportunity, I want to have a picnic) mean that even if you do hate the film, it wont be a bad evening. 

Unfortunately, however, the weather decided to conspire against us. We arrived early in order to nab a good spot (and have a picnic, obvs) but just twenty minutes before the film was due to begin it started to rain. Us being the hardy British girls that we are weren't perturbed. All my childhood summer holidays were spent sitting on a cold beach in England, resolutely refusing to be beaten by anything as irrelevant as a spot of driving rain. So we huddled under our umbrella and scorned at all the soft Americans hurriedly folding their picnic blankets and running away. 

But then the rain got distinctly heavier and the thunder started and with it our hardy Brit-Gal attitude began to soften, so that when a lightening bolt scarred the sky and there were puddles forming in our laps, even we had to admit that maybe it was time to go home. We gathered up our stuff and left, but having done the classic British thing of, in the midst of a torrential downpour, optimistically believing that it would clear up in two minutes, when we did, finally, admit defeat, we, and all our possessions, were really very wet. 

The weather had beaten us. 

Yes, we are ashamed. We hang our heads. We have let our country down. 

But moving on; we returned home and got dry and stopped looking like bedraggled rats. We even managed to skype some friends because it was still early enough that it wasn't actually four in the morning back home. 

They were at a party, but put us on video so that we could make an appearance because, obviously, a party isn't a party without our presence and we were clearly being greatly missed. No show without Punch. 

It all got a bit raucous and we couldn't really hear what was being said, apart from every now and then someone telling everyone else to err, put it in polite terms, go away. So we decided that maybe skyping at a party doesn't work that well and so we said our farewells. 

Then we finished off our picnic sitting cross legged on Rain's bed and laughed until our tummies hurt. 

Harper's Fashion Inspiration

To start off the new week I wore an electric blue calf length pleated skirt, which I felt banished any Monday Morning Blues anyone else in the office might have been feeling after their long week end, with a white crochet vest. I thought it was v cool. 

I spent the day doing various bits of admin and I'm also spending a lot of time sorting out the archives, so am totally immersed in vintage Harper's, which is also v cool and total fashion inspiration: I am so feeling some drop waist beaded flapper dresses with a feather head band right now. 

I always love a good bit of vintage clothes shopping, but am feeling really fired up for a hunt now! I know there are some vintage/second hand clothes markets in the East Village on week ends; I might have to get down there next Saturday and take several hours to trawl through their goodies. Vintage New York is definitely something my wardrobe needs...

I do think that London girls have an edgier, more individual style than all the well tuned out New Yorkers I've seen. Maybe in Brooklyn and Williamsburg, where everything is renowned for being slightly more daring and bold, this isn't so much the case, but here in Manhattan the style is very cool, very fashionable, very in; very safe. Vintage, hand made or customised isn't something you see a lot of. 

Maybe that was why my Chanel inspired black and white dogtooth jacket, with my addition of sewn on fur collar, received some serious admiration. 

And I know that the jacket sounds ridiculous in this heat, but seriously, with this air con, a fur coat is needed. 

Damn. I missed a trick there.