It’s strange to see the same person twice right? Like when you notice a stranger on the street, let’s say, and then a few days later, you see them again. How about this: on my morning commute from China Town on the D or E train, I just happen to notice a guy sitting under me, eating a bag of nuts. AND WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN THE VERY NEXT MORNING? Same dude, same train, same seat, same nuts. In a city of 8 million, i think that’s very unlikely, but not impossible. We’re in New York after all…
Seems everyone here is not really from here. Like the rich kids I met on a rooftop in LES. We drank bubbly and ate watermelon, and discussed how like 80% of people who live in Manhattan are not actually from Manhattan. This was also true of the ratio of real-to-fake surfers who attended a BBQ held at Saturdays Surf NYC. If anyone’s vying for a free meal it’s me — even if it is undercooked wurst on focaccia bread — and apparently everyone else who came; the tall, the tattooed, surfer dudes and surfer dude-look-alikes, tom-boy models, a few out of place suits, and girls sporting every kind of designer bag from Chanel to Prada, stood in a line-crowd with styrofoam plates and free pabst. Overheard: “I don’t like the idea of free food. I don’t trust it.” For the record, I don’t trust him.
Speaking of food, I don’t know what is harder to get in this town – a taxi or a table. After roaming around SoHo, NoHo and the West Village, we settled for lobster paella at a place called Sevilla, a restaurant that feels like a time warp to the 1960′s (that’s how you know it’s good). (Fun Fact: Our server had actually worked there for over 40 years.) Indulging to the point of ‘I’m-never-eating-again’, the chances are slim that you won’t, especially when you are within walking distance of lemon ricotta pancakes at Spitzers. I couldn’t finish all of their dense deliciousness (next time). The Sunday brunch scene in the L.E.S. is all about ‘bottomless mimosas’, which actually means 5 for 25$ (incl. food) depending on where you go (except after having two mimosas later that day on a patio in Brooklyn, I am under the table in this heat). If you’re in the West Village, you should probably try La Bonbonniere, a historic diner that warns of their non-diner prices, because they’re on such a fancy piece of real estate. Trust me, the avocado omelette and bottomless coffee is worth it. I also had my first New York hot dog. It will also be my last New York hot dog.
I’ve probably never eaten so much in my life, but I’ve also never walked so much in my life, so I think I’ve found a balance. Right? New York is well, humongous. It’s broken up in a series of boroughs and bridges. Manhattan, Staten Island, Brooklyn, The Bronx and Queens. On a breezy Thursday night, I walked the entire length of the Williamsburgh Bridge, to uh, Williamsburgh, a part of Brooklyn. P.S. I need a bike. It’s noticeably much wider and cleaner than its neighbouring Manhattan. I went to check out a concert at Glasslands Gallery, featuring, funnily enough, Toronto-based indie rockers Young Empires. I mean what else do you do when you’re in a strange place and miss home? You go see a band from your hometown, in a neighbourhood that looks familiar.
It’s cool to be grimy, but being fancy is fun too, like attending Tom Slaughter’s exhibition and pop-up shop at Jim Kempner Fine Art opening in Chelsea, (unbeknownst to me, this was a pretty big deal. I’m learning). I saw a few pieces of his paper cut out art (although I’m sure there is a high brow term for his aesthetic) of, like, anchors and boats and scenes of New York and that, and I actually really want his amazing black and white wallpaper. Maybe when I acquire a few thousand dollars, but there’s also this new Margiela store opening soon so….
Between the hipsters in Manhattan and the hipsters in Brooklyn, I’m defo way under-tatted to be taken seriously. But I won’t succumb to the fad. Well, maybe just a little. But in some strange way, we could all not belong together. We’re in New York after all…