... We were absolutely determined to get to the Guggenheim today - we were up and out of the hotel by 8:45, deciding to try a "classic diner" breakfast recommended by one of Mr Brown's American expat friends. On the way I spotted the biggest pet shop I've ever seen (Petco Lexington Ave). People were wandering the isles with their dogs! So, we popped in to get Ping and Small a little giftie. Most of the cat toys were unsuitable, being full of cat nip. Australian Customs would have snatched them from my grasp, stamped them, burned them and then thrown me in goal. But I did find something.
We landed at the Lexingon Candy Shop Luncheonette (ext 1925) and did the eggies, bacon & bagel thing, and wandered down to the Gugg. It turns out the Gugg is not open on Thursdays. Thwarted - that's 3 times we've missed it. We're going to try again after the sailing is done, but I'm not holding my breath.
Since we were in the area we popped into the Whitney, via Williams Somoma for some nice teatowels. Hmmm, mostly not my cup of tea, though I did really like Winter Fields by Andrew Wyeth.
Mr Brown wanted to see Washington Square, because he admired the house Will Smith took over in that movie, about the vampire disease. 
The "house" is actually flats! Very nice though. It must have been stone week or somesuch, the place was packed with hip young things wandering about being terribly, terribly cool. 
I was terribly, terribly UNcool and patted a nice police horse.
We lunched in the park then dashed down to Soho to look at Bloomingdales. Meh, it was just a big shop really, thought the shop girls were all terribly nice. I bought some tights (so I could get a little brown bag, sad, I know) and the shop girl gave me her card!
By this time the feet were becoming fractious but Mr Brown wanted some suits and shoes and had been told Century 21 was the place to go. I'd been told by several that I'd like the place. I did not, I did not like it at all. I hate chaotic, messing shopping with crowds and this place was a shit fight. The only thing that tempted me was a divine pair of red suede Jimmy Choos that made me as tall as Mr Brown. But there was no way I'd ever walk in them, so they were returned to the shelf.
The men's section, on the other hand, was calm and a lovely wee man came over, took Mr Brown under his wing and helped me talk him into a suit with just the smidgen of colour in the pin stripe. Then he took him downstairs to find shoes - and bargains were found. Why that sort of service isn't available to women I don't know. Not fair!
The feet packed it in at that point, so we took them home via a nice cafe where I drank my first Manhattan. That was a terrible, terrible mistake. I got thoroughly pissed and didn't even enjoy it.
We landed at the Lexingon Candy Shop Luncheonette (ext 1925) and did the eggies, bacon & bagel thing, and wandered down to the Gugg. It turns out the Gugg is not open on Thursdays. Thwarted - that's 3 times we've missed it. We're going to try again after the sailing is done, but I'm not holding my breath.
Since we were in the area we popped into the Whitney, via Williams Somoma for some nice teatowels. Hmmm, mostly not my cup of tea, though I did really like Winter Fields by Andrew Wyeth.
Mr Brown wanted to see Washington Square, because he admired the house Will Smith took over in that movie, about the vampire disease. The "house" is actually flats! Very nice though. It must have been stone week or somesuch, the place was packed with hip young things wandering about being terribly, terribly cool. I was terribly, terribly UNcool and patted a nice police horse.We lunched in the park then dashed down to Soho to look at Bloomingdales. Meh, it was just a big shop really, thought the shop girls were all terribly nice. I bought some tights (so I could get a little brown bag, sad, I know) and the shop girl gave me her card!By this time the feet were becoming fractious but Mr Brown wanted some suits and shoes and had been told Century 21 was the place to go. I'd been told by several that I'd like the place. I did not, I did not like it at all. I hate chaotic, messing shopping with crowds and this place was a shit fight. The only thing that tempted me was a divine pair of red suede Jimmy Choos that made me as tall as Mr Brown. But there was no way I'd ever walk in them, so they were returned to the shelf.
The men's section, on the other hand, was calm and a lovely wee man came over, took Mr Brown under his wing and helped me talk him into a suit with just the smidgen of colour in the pin stripe. Then he took him downstairs to find shoes - and bargains were found. Why that sort of service isn't available to women I don't know. Not fair!
The feet packed it in at that point, so we took them home via a nice cafe where I drank my first Manhattan. That was a terrible, terrible mistake. I got thoroughly pissed and didn't even enjoy it.
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3 comments:
Whenever I hear "Washington Square" I can't help but begin humming Joan Baez's "Diamonds & Rust".
Well done being decidedly COOL and patting a police horse!
As far as the differences between men's and women's departments and service, I don't understand it, but it is true. I remember accompanying my Mom and Dad to a men's shop in Providence. Not only did Mom and I offer opinions and assistance, but the staff at the shop glided about providing Dad with excellent service. Decades later it's still the same.
Fingers remain crossed for the Guggenheim...
;o)
- Lee
He was a lovely horse, clearly selected for his public relations skills.
I can never resist the police horses, either. So calm and at home in all that hustle and bustle.
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