My grand plans for this weekend were not entirely realized...although I didn't necessarily miss the mark by too far. Saturday morning, I slept too late and lacked the proper motivation to make it to the poetry reading I wanted to attend, as tea turned into a bath and soon it was futile to try and make it to the Village (although this was clearly not an issue for the nice crowd that showed up). I'll have to order online and take advantage of Action Books' "3 for $30" website special; also on the shortlist: Softskull's Pretty Young Things, by Danielle Pafunda.
As I was idly plaiting my hair and contemplating a sweep of peacock blue/green eyeshadow (see: Vincent Longo's "Paradise Love") and perhaps a stroll around the neighborhood, a friend called and asked if I'd like to go for a walk. Thrilled by the serendipity, I grabbed a cashmere wrap perfect for the unseasonably mild weather and strolled a few blocks up to SoHo. I made it to our rendezvous point a few minutes early, so I switched our meeting place slightly and popped in to say hello to Jen Bekman!
Once we were in the same place at the same time, I learned that my fellow flaneur was looking for work clothes, so we went to Cloak and he picked up a gorgeously detailed oxford with covered buttons and a subtle blue stripe. After that, we stopped and lingered at Palacinka, catching up on each other's latest dramatic episodes over savory crepes and Syrah.
Yohji Yamamoto was still open when we walked by, so we did a little browsing therein, and I fell in love a thousand times over, mostly with coats but also the dressing rooms loosely modeled after Richard Serra's Torqued Ellipse, albeit on a human scale. Gourmet Garage was our last stop, where I picked up some tapas fixin's and good black tea (Scottish Breakfast), and then headed home for dinner and a movie before reading an essay on dancehall fashion in Black Style until I fell asleep.
Today, I went to a matinee of The Civilians' brilliant, hilarious Nobody's Lunch with friends, and then we went to Burger Joint in Le Parker Meridien. Afterwards, I went for a walk down 57th Street -- past Rizzoli, the most elegant bookstore I've never entered -- and into Bergdorf Goodman, although nothing inside the store (more Gastineau than Golightly, I'm afraid) is quite as appealing as peeking at those gorgeous windows.
Right now I am watching North by Northwest, planning out my schedule and work agenda for the week (See you Wednesday?), and planning to get to sleep at a reasonable hour (tonight's bed-time reading: The Photograph as Contempory Art) as tomorrow morning starts bright and early with a meeting over breakfast at Balthazar. Parfait.
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