A week in New York City

DAY 1: we emerged into the light of the city via Penn Station, received by refracted sunlight, massive columns, yellow cabs immediately in my way, boom-box music, colourful voices, throngs of people…wonderful chaos. We walked past a line up for a Billy Joel concert - “New York state of mind…” how appropriate (was this a planned reception? If so, thank you). An evening’s walk and introduction to scenes from the movies: The Empire State Building (lobby only), Times Square (at a distance), subway entrances (will I ever descend?) and people, people everywhere. An expected and familiar chaos.

DAY 2: We walked. The city moves you forward by way of ‘what’s over there?” and the locals having no time for our ambling about. Look up and you’ll fall down. The Library: yellow bag purchase and the first of many discombobulating experiences of feeling so small in the presence of such a mass of architecture. Free exhibit: Charles Dicken’s desk, just right there, Jo Mielziner’s sketches (my scenographic hero) and treasures everywhere. Bryant Park, what a jewel. We walked the perimeter remarking on how much there was to do: ping pong, reading corners, cafe’s and chairs, chairs and tables everywhere. And then Central Park - a dream. Endless rows of benches, how wonderful, and those charming little yachts we came to see (thank you, friends, for the suggestion). New Yorkers having picture-perfect picnics and saying to their son’s “ask maum for a byte of your hawt dawg’ - oh, they really do talk like that - how charming. A cardinal in Shakespeare’s Garden, grand planned vistas and corners of wildness, so much greenness. Exhausted but exhilarated, I could live here, on this bench. Food: fantastic Cafe 77 burger and fries in the nick of time. The Photography Show by AIPAD at The Park Avenue Armory. Thank you, Alkemis Paint for the invitation, the first of what would be many fortuitous happenstances and connections leading me to see beautiful things I hadn’t imagined possible. Works by Ilona Langbroek, old world beauty through a contemporary lens, standing face to face with an empowered Martin Luther King Jr. as he marches, arm in arm and that supremely classic lady in a tight white pencil skirt looking down at her whippet. Photographic perfection, everywhere. Conversation with an ex-New York Time’s photogrpaher, and lots of ‘hats and scarves’ in the crowd, my husband aptly put. We sipped our grapefruit juice in the VIP lounge. “Yes,” I said - swooping my scarf across my shoulder… “a ‘hat and scarf’ kind of crowd, how wonderful!” He smiled.

DAY 3: Walking lessons: waiting politely on the curb, waiting for the cross signal to beckon you on is for schmucks (apparently). We stand shoulder to shoulder with New Yorkers, 5 steps into the street, and cross whenever a gap in traffic allows. We live by the rules of the streets now. Breakfast at Friedmans - blessed Friedmans and their gluten-free pancakes, I ate like I haven’t eaten in years…. another walk through ‘our Park’, destination: The Metropolitan Museum of Art (a nervousness felt amongst those waiting in line to see their favourite movie star ran through my body). We breeze through Bathesba Terrace, I felt immediately transported to London, Italy amongst the coolness of the stone arches, the faux marble and the captured moist air. The Met. Can we take the stairs or is that only for Rihanna and long yellow dresses? We take a side door and happy we did (thank you coat-check-guy). We start at the top: faces, brushstrokes, scenes, visions… all that I’ve studied, poured over, refer to and hold in the highest esteem, all my favourite celebrities were here: Lippi, Holbein, Bronzino, Vermeer, Rembrandt, van Dyck, Claesz Heda, Picasso, Tiepolo, Goya, Le Brun, de Kooning, Matisse, Velazquez… and then, my guy, John Singer Sargent. I hadn’t prepared myself for the immensity of his portraits. Always struck by the detail he put into the faces of his subjects while representing their clothing with much more daring brush strokes, equally confident but wonderfully energetic compared to the faces. Madame X was away on vacation but the rest of the gang was there, splendid. Saturated, we left saving Monet and Degas for another day… back to The Park for a cleanse of the eyeballs and the charm of a busker playing his song for all to enjoy. A hot afternoon, the city let out onto the grasses, Sundays in The Park with New York. An afternoon sat on a bench, watching people go by.

DAY 4: Late rise, husband off in search of birds. A walk to breakfast like I own the city, scrumptious. In need of a small shoe repair I ended up in a place called “Tony’s” (how could I not?) and, in awe of a well-dressed New Yorker getting his loafers shined I worked up the courage to do the same. Fantastic, giddy, best $15 ever spent. Journal entries in Harold Square - New York buzzes by on either side of this island of calm. Found husband and carried on toward lunch, eyed up a spot on 5th Ave. (great decor and happy plants rarely let me down - well done Claudette’s), fantastic meal, happy amongst the well-to-do having their long lunches. Headed for ‘north side of Washington Square, lovely buildings’ per a friend’s suggestion and, sure enough, they were lovely. University students playing hooky, all in the park without a care in the world - protests down the street, counter protests too. Afternoon destination: deVOL Kitchens on Bond Street. Eyed up the craftsmanship on the doors, why can’t all cabinetry be like this? Asked questions, took pictures, left full. Tenement Museum tour in the afternoon, a very comfortable visit to what must have been an incredibly uncomfortable life. Struck not so much by the poverty but by the effort put in - despite the poverty - to decorate their humble surroundings: wallpaper, painted linoleum floors, hand crafted cabinets. Feeling of home even after 100 years. Timeless design? A walk home (for a change) and my fascination with fire escapes reaches new heights. Husband is taken with wood water tanks atop sky scrapers. Enchanted by functional beauty. Evening spent in a bubble bath with Obama on my iPhone, ice cream is fetched from across the street, dinner. Heaven.

DAY 5: We took the bus (to rest our feet) up Madison Ave and experienced the decadent rise and fall of the neighbourhood with the ascent of the street numbers. Beautiful buildings, cheek by jowl design yet each one unique, with character and something to say. And then, the odd one out: The Guggenheim. Like the belly of a whale breaching the continuity of the neighbourhood’s architecture, it stands proud and respected. I brush my hand against the exterior wall: greatness against my fingertips. Time to get to work: 200 LEX and all it has to offer to designers. Visual Comfort &Co. first and an intake of product for later references, then House of Hackney. A well-appointed explosion of decadence in every corner: print, velvet, fringe and tassels, colour, richness, personality and Mother Nature, she’s everywhere here. She serves as their muse and sits at the board room table, informing their decisions. I took it all in, was shown some yet-to-be-released product and left with a promise to incorporate this goodness into my work as much as possible. Next up: The Morgan Library. Recommended by a friend who’s taste align with ours, it did not disappoint. Mr. Morgan had money and knew where to spend it: books, art, architecture. As an added bonus, The Beatrix Potter Exhibit was on and standing so close to this artist’s work, work I’ve known since childhood, her fine brush strokes and detail brought me back to that childhood dreamlike state of imagining a life beyond the drawing. As an added bonus: Constable, Seurat and Sargent. This city is full of added bonuses it seems. Outside it’s rush hour - seemed like a good time to visit Grand Central Terminal. We were told to “GET OUT OF MY WAY” - yes ma’am, quite right! Dizzy (for many reasons), we bucked the tide of commuters for 2 minutes like ignorant tourists before exiting, tail between our legs. Sorry New Yorkers, our bad.

DAY 6: We ascended into a painting: The Highline. What a work of art, what an idea, how beautifully executed. Walking through the brushstrokes, the plants, admiring the generosity of colour, texture and the use of humble flora, massed to create a sum greater than the parts. Exalted. I could live here, I could be that guy tending to the dead-heading in Piet Oudolf’s living painting. Coffee break at The Highline Hotel - another recommendation, followed and grateful - green space and quiet, an oddity to our ears now accustomed to din. Chelsea Galleries: artful explosions. Sensory overload at the DIA, feeling small but embraced by the earthly body in the room. Dipping my toe into the contemporary art scene, the water is warmer that I thought, pleasant conversations with gallery owners and an eye-opening introduction to what’s now. Impressed by so much. Lunch: another chicken-on-salad (this celiac’s go-to) and someone famous in the restaurant caused a stir… Timothy Chalamet on break from becoming Bob Dylan? Too much speculation, I had to ask: it’s Joe Montana. Ah. Hi Joe. We were hoping for Matt Damon. Afternoon at the beach: a square of sand with distant views to the Statue of Liberty overlooking that corner of the world brought to its knees 23 years ago. I avoided my gaze, I couldn’t look. Little Island - a place I didn’t know existed it evolved my appreciation of modern architectural interventions. Gorgeous goblets emerging from shoreline waters, a garden in suspension. Paths lead the eye and the feet to the top, the journey serving as the greater reward. Rusty cor-ten steel holding back earth for pretty ground covers visited by butterflies. The small and dainty mingles with the industrial in perfect harmony, in balance.

DAY 7: First at the doorstep to Kips Bay Decorator Show House 2024, opening day. Eager much? The experience deserves its own journal entry: taste and excess, experimentation and classicism. Joyful, personal expression. Conversations with designers, one to one, their insights and inspiration, in turn, inspired me and reinforced what it is that drives me in design. Buildings, more gorgeous buildings softened by dogwoods in flower. I can’t imagine ever tiring of these views. We rise up to the 29th floor, Swedish-American Chamber of Commerce of all places, to view pieces from Reijmyre Spring 2024 collection. What a view indeed: dizzying prospect of high-rises with nothing but a pane of glass between us. I’m more of a ground-dweller. The glass work is gorgeous, contemporary pieces with a nod to tradition, just what I like and I am flattered by the private viewing. We spy in on some road work, eavesdrop on construction talk (as we do), and smile at the age-old sexist appreciation of a good looking woman walking by construction workers. She walks on, they work on. Evening’s entertainment: the theatre. We take the bus away from The Great White Way and into SoHo, we hang out with university students at Iris Cantor Theatre and their production of RENT. Surrounded by hormones, boisterous pride of being an acting student in NYC (well-deserved) and prepare for the experience. It’s flawed but with some remarkable highs. Did we see a soon-to-be Oscar/Tony award-winner? Maybe… A walk ‘home’ at night, an easy walk, no maps ever needed, as long as you know where you’re headed, the streets and avenues will get you there.

DAY 8: Just one more experience before we head home - Brooklyn. We finally take the subway (had no desire to miss out on the action above ground until now). A quiet walk through Prospect Park, a stop in The Library and an I-feel-like-I’ve-been-here-before walk through the cinematic streets of Park Slope neighbourhood. “Look at that door!” and “look at those steps!” those wrought iron lamps, stair posts, gates… elements I would later recognize on my in-flight movie - “we were just there, standing in front of that newel post!”.

And then we were home.

A week in New York City - no Broadway show, no shopping, no views from the top of The Empire State Building… we walked, we talked, we said yes to everything and revelled in the experiences. We left wanting more.

All photos are my own or my husband’s and property of Studio Albertazzi.