& Some Thoughts on the City That Never Sleeps
I’ve been meaning to write this post for the past few months, and the fact that it took me so long is proof (for me) of how mystical New York still is in my brain. I know that a lot of people are disenchanted with it and frustrated with it, and New York, I love you, but you’re bringing me down, but all I’m saying is that it’s tough for me to write about it, because I don’t really know how to go about it. How do you write about something you’ve loved half your life, loved in many different ways, for many different reasons?
And it’s precisely this moony-eyed love letter that I was trying to avoid writing… Every time I touched New York, it just came out too dramatic, and I don’t wish to romanticize my trysts with that city, but I do want to somehow make you understand what about it that I love so much.
I’ve posted extensively about the New York I met in 2014, and I will list the posts down below:
- The MoMA, September
- Jeff Koons at the Whitney
- Chelsea, Part I
- Chelsea, Part II
- The Metropolitan Museum of Art
- The Whitney Museum of American Art
But, that New York isn’t the same city that I met when I was 4, 7, 10, 13, 15, 18… I was in love with New York those times, too, but I keep on seeing different sides of it every time I come back to it. Whenever I think my love for it has simmered down, how “over it” I am, and how I don’t really want to live there anymore (a dirty, dirty lie), I backpedal because I catch myself transforming back into the heart-eyes emoji.
And honestly, I don’t think you can blame me. New York is beautiful, sure, but it’s also terrifying, and exhilarating, and fantastic, and unlike any other place I’ve ever been to, even the ones that I would fall in love with after. It is just so full.
It’s so full that it’s sometimes scary or frustrating or completely, utterly draining, but you’re never okay when you have to leave it. You can’t say “goodbye” without a twinge in your heart. But I guess that’s love for you.
Milton Glaser’s I Love New York has been ripped off and appropriated by other cities, but I don’t think it works as well as when New York wears it.
And for posterity, a list of other things I did there, because it’s always nice to look back on these things:
- Smorgasburg and Dumbo, briefly. I had a beautiful cone of truffle fries, and a glimpse of Brooklyn, which we sadly didn’t get to explore as much on this trip. (I still love you the most, BK.)
- Milk Bar! The line was long, I’m not sure if it was worth it.
- Luke’s Lobster at The Plaza Food Hall is heaven (until I imagine the screams and wails of lobsters being boiled alive).
- SEEING (AND HEARING!) PETER MENDELSUND AT MCNALLY JACKSON BECAUSE PETRA IS AN ANGEL, MISSED VERY DEARLY.
- Getting a dosa from Hampton Chutney Co. with beautiful Barby, who I will see again in a few days.
- Walking across the High Line and eating a Ginger Molasses cookie—the best cookie!—from Blue Bottle Coffee after.
- Two Chelsea gallery days, thinking how cool it would be to make it there. Someday.
- Actually being able to afford stuff in SoHo, lol.
- Strand Bookstore and the search for the elusive L Train Gizzy. We went back 3 times to no Gizzy. It was kind of embarrassing.
- Beautiful burgers by Shake Shack. The one near the 9/11 Memorial has a tolerable line.
- Dreams of grandeur at the New York Public Library, only to be met with a renovation.
- Katz’s Deli, Il Laboratorio gelato across. I got a beautiful scoop of pink peppercorn and one of rosemary.
- Breakfasts at Central Park.
- The Book of Mormon on Broadway. HILAR.
- Eataly gelato.
- The New York Art Book Fair, which was, you know, kind of really heavenly.
- Walking around the areas of Manhattan that are too expensive for me to ever afford, and then along the Hudson River a day before my birthday, to say goodbye to one of my best friends, and the city.
I mean. Imagine if you lived there. How full your life could be. I wish I could tell you everything I feel about it right now, but I’m having a dumb American Beauty moment, so I apologize if this is turning out to be as moony-eyed as I was afraid it was going to be.
Until next time, New York.