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When I first moved to New York I knew a girl who fancied herself a kind of Holly Golightly. Oh, her nights! Always, she was full of stories about the latest film that mustn’t be missed, or that cool art opening she crashed the previous weekend. She represented the possibility of inclusion: one day those…
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Some will go back to work, while others will return from long vacations, visits to family or friends, or the epic drunk they’ve been on since the office Christmas party. For most of us the Monday after New Year’s Day signifies the true turning of time, and a return to business as usual. I’ve long…
Continue readingBlame it on yoga. Walking north on Third Avenue Saturday, I felt the smug contentment of someone who’d deep-breathed himself into nirvana after a session of asanas. Beware of self-satisfaction: the sweaty inner peace I’d hoped would see me through a bout of shopping before dinner in Chelsea got shattered as I glanced down Stuyvesant…
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This morning, a ranting man on the downtown D train (“Does she think I’m crazy? I’m not taking any shit from that bitch!”) confirmed it: the 4th of July weekend had ended, as the madness and crowds returned to infuse Manhattan with its usual, challenging, atmosphere. But while it lasted, oh…
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Back from Greece and jet-lagged to beat the band. First stop was Santorini where J and I attended a wedding for our pals Nia and Mark. The island is a poem of sky and sea and volcanic mountains, and the perfect setting for the union of two beautiful people (and one of my oldest friends—Nia…
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Unlike Spain, France or China, there seems to be no national physical “type” in Belgium. Notions of Hercule Poirot vanish when presented with varietal faces that range from pale Flemish damsels to the deep dark shades of Congo ancestry. Of course, the presence of tourists confuse the whole mess, turning the tiny city of Brussels…
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