"I look out of the window and I see the lights and the skyline and the people on the street rushing around looking for action, love and the world's best chocolate chip cookie, and my heart does a little dance."
Nora Ephron
My heart dances too as the plane touches down in JFK. It slows a bit during the 1 1/2-hour immigration queue (it's not just our country) but it's a good people-watching experience and the time passes quickly. I'm surprised to realise that I am as excited as the first time I came; New York is a cliché for a reason and it never disappoints.
Once a year I get a chance to go at the end of April, before the pavements start heating up, when one moment you can be caught out by a tornado whistling down an avenue and wish you'd brought more layers, to the next when you are basking in the sun on an ubiquitous leafy rooftop, sundowner in hand.
The excuse for my regular visits is a work shindig of my husband's that I am also invited to. All stops are pulled out to beat the year before's venue experience at this New York founded company. This year's dinner is being held at the uncomfortably high Edge skyscraper in the new swanky Hudson Yards. Colleagues and their partners come from all over the States which makes it such a buzzy event: our small Brit contingent is always seen as a bit quirky. As always but I think especially keenly this year I am quizzed by one after another American, fixated by the royals and Prince Harry in particular ... what, why, where, who they ask. One time I knew more than most about the history of events, having now many moons ago edited the second instalment of Diana: My True Story, so I try my best. All the New Yorker and Long Island commuter women are wearing short black dresses (I honestly can't tell whether they are new, this-season Prada or their trusted Macy's one) and there are a few trousers suits (unmemorable to be honest) from the West Coast. I don't mean to stand out – it's just that the only nice black dress I own is my funeral one. In any case I love and feel comfortable in my rose pink Bolam Style kaftan although I know it's better suited in Notting Hill or a South of France beach. I bravely took this pic from the 100th floor restaurant looking towards downtown Manhattan and the Hudson River at it empties out into New York Bay.
But first I have two full days in this city of cities. New York can't claim to be the most multicultural city in the world but it must surely be the most multi-faceted city. Just in Greenwich you'll find a psychic palm reader (.... one day I will pluck up the courage) next to a vegan juice bar next to a homeless shelter next to a gospel church. The first day my husband Nick and I always spend together mooching around the city, perhaps a huge walk over Williamsburg Bridge to Brooklyn and back, dropping in at Awoke Vintage for something for the kids and Luke's Lobster (if you know, you know), or sometimes we just hang out in Soho (again something for the kids in A Bathing Ape) and having a long lunch at the Mercer. This year we go cultural and head to MoMA as it opens, where there is a Georgia O'Keefe exhibition. I was especially thrilled to see this because I had missed the recent one at Tate Modern. So many breathtaking paintings but I single out her Blue Nude, Leah 1918, watercolour. I think it is simple perfection. Georgia might well be on a guest list for that game you play when you invite anyone living or dead to a dinner party. She once wrote to a friend in 1915 saying, "Did you ever have something to say and feel as if the whole side of the wall wouldn't be big enough to say it on." She and I would have got along.
Next, Nick was keen for me to see the permanent exhibition at the Guggenheim, which curiously I had never been to. So, we took a yellow cab up to the top of the city, past the cherry trees of Central Park in resplendent bloom, where we feasted on Van Gogh, Monet, Picasso, Chagall, Modliani and more. Here's probably my favourite Picasso, Bird on a Tree. It's not very big; I love its quirkiness and humour.
Stunningly exhibited in the alcoves of the iconic corkscrew building is the current retrospective of the artist Gego (b. 1912 Gertrud Goldschmidt), German by birth who immigrated to South America to escape Nazi persecution. Measuring Infinity includes her sculptures and other works. Well worth a visit.
The next day we get up early. Nick goes to his mid-town office and I get in a walk whilst it's not too busy on the High Line. Here I am next to Windy by Meriem Bennani, a sculptor, who specialises in magical realism. I'm sporting one of my own summer grainsack tote bags but it is rather chilly.
And, finally I make my way to the Garment District to stock up on fabrics and accessories. The man sewing at the top of the page and this yellow button signal the beginning of the district.
Mood Fabrics, on West 37th Street is one of my happy places. I spend a long time pulling out hide after hide of dyed leather to choose the right colour, weight and texture of leather for my purses. I have been making leather pouch/purses for five years now – each with unique linings. Friends have had theirs for years and use them as evening bags or pouches for make-up, keys and cards.
Then I choose from the large selection of broderie anglaise (cutwork they call it). I turn the fabric into knickers that have their own cute lined, drawstring pouch. They are the comfiest/sexiest combo of knickers you'll own.
From here I go to Pacific Trimmings (on 38th), the tailor's equivalent of a candy store. I buy top quality Riri zips for my bags, and ribbons in different hues and patterns for lavender bags. It is one of my simplest and most satisfying pleasures matching remnant fabric with special ribbon for these bags: I use mine to ward off moths, to smell before I go to sleep and keep some in my handbag. Here's a preview of what's to come.
That night we meet up with new friends and eat al fresco at the Middle Eastern restaurant, Shukette, in Chelsea. Labneh with preserved lemon, harissa and scallion for starter, followed by lamb skewers with pistachio, lemon, yoghurt, chilli and watercress and finished with an amazing ice cream-like "tahini soft halva floss" with hazelnut and pomegranate. The friends, Cindy and Andre, are a couple we met on holiday recently; she's a filmmaker/photographer and he is the eponymous Andre of My Dinner with Andre fame. If you haven't seen the film (as we hadn't) and think your mid life crisis is bad then you would do well to watch this, in turn, funny, profound and thought-provoking movie. So, dinner it was with Andre, in his hometown.
Until next year ....