12 November 2010

NYC: Manhattan Follies

State plates spotted: 12
Mad Men locations visited: 2

After a relatively eventless flight (other than delays thanks to the two-minute silence for Remembrance Day), we made it to JFK, along with Tamara Beckwith, just after 2 pm. It then took over an hour to get into the city thanks to the remnants of the Veterans’ Day parade. The only evidence of Veterans’ Day I saw was a Hooters billboard but anyway.          

As per usual, after check-in, we headed straight to the shops but—oh noes—neither J. Crew nor Anthropologie had anything that tempted me enough to try on. Don’t get me wrong, I will probably end up buying things from both shops eventually but having spent several months talking myself out of shopping, it was a bit of an anti-climax to have to talk myself into purchases. There was too much sale stuff for a start (which I usually dislike because it’s usually on sale for a reason—it didn’t sell as well as the nice stuff) and then too much glittery, party-ish apparel, while I wanted basics. Walking back to the hotel, we passed the NYAC but I didn’t see Don Draper, post-swim, sadly.

Fortunately, there was no such disappointment at P.J. Clarke's, stop number two on the Mad Men tour. The bar was absolutely rammed and there was barely enough room to sip a cocktail, let alone swing a cat, as we were pressed against the jukebox. We didn’t have to wait too long though and I was soon eating a perfectly medium rare bacon cheeseburger (with the tomato, lettuce, et al. on the side). Mum was similarly glad to have a glass of Merlot after the male members of the family accidentally bought some “red wine product” (alcohol content 6%) rather than red wine proper from the local deli. Error.

This morning, I woke at seven and grabbed a coffee from the café at our hotel (which was nice if expensive at $2.75 for a single espresso) before travelling one block to Central Park. It was a gorgeous morning: cool but bright and sunny and I made a glorious lap of the six-mile jogging track before nipping down to 52nd Street and Ess-a-Bagel to fuel up.

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