And yes, I’ve just been there, lucky me,
only for a few days and no time at all for shopping, (well hardly, only for
presents) but still, it was wonderful.
As always.
I was there to research the new book; which
involved a lot of pavement pounding, a lot of wandering through the cosmetic
departments of the big stores, a lot of visiting bars and restaurants—you must
be feeling seriously sorry for me by now.
I arrived at about ten thirty at night, and
got through Immigration by about one in the morning. (Maybe you might be feeling just a little
sorry for me at this point.)
And then the drive into the city. New York at one in the morning is really very like New York at lunch time: noisy, heavily trafficked, brilliantly lit, shops open everywhere – well certainly downtown – food shops, flower stalls, delis, dry cleaners, even one or two bookshops. Yes, bookshops. Can you imagine? I really felt like getting out of the cab and having a browse. Only I didn’t, I decided on balance I’d rather get to my hotel.
And the highlights were:
Staying at the Algonquin. Which is a wonderful hotel for a writer; it was where Dorothy Parker held her Round Table lunches for al the great writers of her day: Robert Benchley , Alexander Woolcott, Art Samuels, even Harpo Marx. (No, I didn’t know he was a writer either) The round table is still there, in the Round Table bar and so is Matilda, the hotel cat, who has been there ever since the hotel was opened in 1902. Well, her descendants, obviously. As I walked in, she was sitting on the reception counter and looked at me very coolly. She is blonde, fluffy and beautiful.
A walk: I woke up to one of those daysNew York is best at; brilliant
blue sky, sunshine – and a freezing wind, howling down all those great avenues.
I headed for the Meatpacking district, which was exactly what it said, the
district where the meat came off the boats to be packed, cobbled streets, huge
warehouses and about as unfashionable then as it is fashionable now.
And I walked not down the wind-y streets, but along the old Highline Railway which has been turned into a sort of park, or rather walkway, high high above the streets, with shrubs and trees and grassland: totally enchanting. It stops at a sort of viewing place, where you can look all the way uptown to Central Park;
And then the drive into the city. New York at one in the morning is really very like New York at lunch time: noisy, heavily trafficked, brilliantly lit, shops open everywhere – well certainly downtown – food shops, flower stalls, delis, dry cleaners, even one or two bookshops. Yes, bookshops. Can you imagine? I really felt like getting out of the cab and having a browse. Only I didn’t, I decided on balance I’d rather get to my hotel.
And the highlights were:
Staying at the Algonquin. Which is a wonderful hotel for a writer; it was where Dorothy Parker held her Round Table lunches for al the great writers of her day: Robert Benchley , Alexander Woolcott, Art Samuels, even Harpo Marx. (No, I didn’t know he was a writer either) The round table is still there, in the Round Table bar and so is Matilda, the hotel cat, who has been there ever since the hotel was opened in 1902. Well, her descendants, obviously. As I walked in, she was sitting on the reception counter and looked at me very coolly. She is blonde, fluffy and beautiful.
A walk: I woke up to one of those days
And I walked not down the wind-y streets, but along the old Highline Railway which has been turned into a sort of park, or rather walkway, high high above the streets, with shrubs and trees and grassland: totally enchanting. It stops at a sort of viewing place, where you can look all the way uptown to Central Park;
A sign:
The Magnolia Bakery, much featured in Sex and the City: tiny it is, but filled with cup cake-y treasures; people stood outside in the biting wind drinking hot chocolate and munching on things like Red Velvet cheesecake.
A martini in the Algonquin bar, the biggest I’ve ever seen, which completely knocked me out; I could hardly make the lift.
Breakfast at Penelope’s on
The shop windows generally but raising the game to another level entirely, Bergdorf Goodmans at the top of
The cosmetic departments —Bloomies has a vast tank of tropical fish, Saks is a sort of enchanted wood, Bergdorfs a glittering white underworld. Only annoying thing is if you stop for an instant, you’re set upon by extremely overzealous sales people. Counter productive really, so you daren’t.
The real-life toy soldier outside FAO Schwarz, at the top of Fifth, who said “I like your coat young lady”…I went in and bought up the shop…which was full of brilliant conjurers.
The 18th floor bar at the incredibly trendy Standard Hotel, (also in the Meatpacking District. ) 360 degree views up town and out across the Seaboard—incredible. In the summer they have a plunge pool up there; in winter they have an ice rink at ground level. Helicopters whirling by would have a great view of you in the loos which have floor to ceiling windows…oh yes.
Balthazars, a bar in
One horrid sight: kittens and guinea pigs being sold on the corner of
The Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Centre, on the edge of the skating rink, and like the rest of
There was so much more, of course. I left four days after I had arrived, dizzy with it all. Truly an amazing city. Lucky me.
Happy Christmas everybody - wherever you may be. Have a lovely time. I intend to.
Penny