I love you, New York

I love New York, it's true, and fortunate as I was to find myself spending two weeks in Manhattan I asked myself what does one do when confronted with the amassed splendour of the Big Apple?
In my case the list of things on my journey included scenic treks to the Moma, Met and Guggenheim galleries, a trip to the dastardly fantastic Ricky's Halloween store, the purchase of several new Victoria's Secret items to renew my collection of bra's for winter, an authentic 15 dollar manicure at a Korean nail salon and of course a heavily indulgent rain-spattered shopping day dedicated to Soho and the Meatpacking district.

Plodding along in my staple uniform of leggings and biker boots, large and obnoxious headphones clasped to my ears streaming the likes of 'Hearts on Fire' by Cut Copy I roamed through the city.
It's true New Yorkers are a funny breed of people with naught but a hairline crack in their self-esteems to discern them from a raging herd of wildebeests during a hunt. The second it's starts drizzling people arm themselves in fashionable Wellington boots and fight over taxis. I can safely say that I've lived in London all my life and have only ever had to wear good old industrial Hunter wellies during a brief visit to the countryside. Apparently here in New York it's not the same, and I was quite perplexed with the image of polka dot, cheetah print and skull and cross-bone rubber boots clambering towards me as I crossed the streets. Never the less I continued, sketching away in my moleskin Picasso at the Moma, Kandinsky at the Guggenheim and trailing through the photography exhibit at the Met. Outside this particular museum I came across a man welding forks into little sculptures and bracelets, the most precise little contraptions that he managed to create to look like cars and bicycles. He looked like a lumberjack, wearing army combat pants and harbouring a grizzled beard. I saw he had made a few rings, none of which were to my preferred taste, so I asked him to make me one.
I am a firm adorer of rings, and I went home wearing my new addition to the family. It was a good day.




If ever you find yourself in New York near Halloween, it would have to take a pretty hard knock on the head to brush past the overflowing pumpkin stalls at the supermarket, the cleverly adopted themes of Dracula and Paranormal activity on TV, and of course the plethora of Ricky's Halloween Stores that seem to appear on every street corner. As it came to be I had a Halloween party to attend back in London, so I dragged my friend Connie to try on costumes with me in the vaulted warehouse that is Ricky's. With the Obama- masks placed next to the masks of the creepy clown from SAW, Ricky's is the place to go unless you're eager enough to rent a costume. Most of the outfits in there are just on the borderline of something you'd buy at Ann Summers as a special treat for that 'special someone', but its always been my belief that Halloween is the time that you can look like a slut and get away with it.



Amidst my endeavours I found myself craving sugary sweetness, and henceforth popped into a corner shop near my favourite hair salon in the big apple, Bumble and Bumble on 146 E 56th St (between 3rd Ave & Lexington Ave). If you're bored of your life, then it's most likely you're bored with your hair, and the first step for a radical new look is a haircut at Bumble and Bumble. Unfortunately, weep, weep, they do not have a salon here in London, only a 'training school' which, frankly, does us no favours. But it was at this hair salon that the moment of revelation to dye my hair completely Flamingo Pink occurred, and I emerged at the end of the summer with locks the colour of ‘Hubba-Bubba’. As I left a Mexican construction worker shouted 'Nice hair baby' and the airhostess on the plane asked me if I was in a rock band. I shan't lie, I was quite flattered. Note to self, in order to receive compliments, dye hair.

Anyway, in that little aforementioned corner shop I discovered a goldmine of exciting indie/cool magazines, such as 'Muse' and ironically 'Indie', the independent style magazine, as well as the quintessential 'Nylon'. I was quite impressed that amid the racks of 'People' and 'US' magazine they had French, Italian and German Vogue.
But, as ever, my heart belongs to' i-D'.









I haven’t seen the film, 'New York, I love you' as of yet, but with a cast concerning the likes of Rachel Bilson, Orlando Bloom, Hayden Christensen, Bradley Cooper, Blake Lively, Natalie Portman and Shia LaBeouf, and if it's anything like 'Paris, je t'aime' I recommend you go see it.