I take a lot of pictures with my iPhone, but I rarely end up doing anything with them. Taking a picture or five has become more of a ritual to mark a moment for myself, an acknowledgment of the here-and-now, than it is anything else. Once in a while, I will flip through them and be reminded of those moments and the reasons I wanted to capture them in the first place. Individually, they are scattershot, disjointed and unconnected. Taken as a whole, however, what comes across I think is not only a portrait of my life, but how I feel about it.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but just FYI I am still in love with New York City. It has changed over the years since I moved here; indeed it is in constant flux. It has also changed me (I would like to think for the better). Here are reasons 7,951 through 7,963 why I love my home.
Drinks with friends at Grand Central.
Waiting for a late train to take her upstate after dinner, we went for the rosé champagne because…OMFG rosé champagne.
No joke, people. It’s a beautiful building, inside and out. It makes me feel like I’ve time-traveled back to a century ago. (That’s the Chrysler Building on the right.)
Big Gay Ice Cream Shop.
Does your town have a Big Gay Ice Cream Shop? With a sparkepony unicorn licking a rainbow ice cream cone for its logo? NO I DON’T THINK SO.
Thrift shop finds.
As we are a full-service Palace, we are of course always on the lookout for exciting new thrones. This one is lovely, but doesn’t quite work with our color palette.
We ended up buying these shorts instead. As you can see, they are badass.
World class cocktails.
These vodka martinis were made by my friend Claiborne at Left Bank. Just tell him “Broken Shed, dry, up, with a twist.”
World class desserts.
Traditional Italian desserts at Gaetanas (from foreground to background): ricotta cheesecake made daily from the owner’s mom’s recipe, pistachio tartufo and canolli. The bartender is my friend Dick, a Shakespearean actor who is at least as sweet as anything he’s serving.
Hotties. ‘Swut I’m sayin’.
Lush, quiet sanctuaries abound, if you know where to look for them. This garden is at the Church of St. Luke in the Fields, just off of Hudson Street. Plenty of benches, no cell phone chatter allowed.
This is Mian Ayyub, a cab driver. When *someone* left her iPhone in his cab, he brought it back to the West Village from the Upper East Side where his next fare had taken him—and would not accept money for his time and trouble.
Matilda the Musical.
I am not a big fan of Broadway generally, nor musical theatre particularly. But I have seen this show three times now—and I’d go again. It’s based on the brilliantly subversive book by Roald Dahl, with music and lyrics by Palace fave Tim Minchin.
I don’t know why I like them. They make for a rough ride in a cab, and at crosswalks they’re tough on your feet, especially in heels. (Cobblestone streets are a major reason why I do not even wear heels anymore, unless there is door-to-door round-trip transportation via car.) I just…I like ’em, okay?
Sometimes natural beauty catches me unaware, and it’s all the more breathtaking for its juxtaposition with the city that frames it.