Next week I will embark on the journey I've been waiting for since the very first time I felt the cold, hard support of concrete under a patent platform pump: I'm going to New York City.
Now, I know for some people this isn't a big deal. In fact, a lot of people go to NYC all the time. It's big, it's dirty, it's expensive, it's full of tourists - it's the center of the universe.
I think this trip will be little bit different for me than it may be for the everyday out-of-towner. Instead of following the "Top ten things to see in NYC" guild book you're gonna pick up while waiting at the JFK luggage claim in your white tennis shoes, fanny pack at the ready, I'll be busy studying the maps of the Meatpacking District, making special marks outside Alexander McQueen and Christian Louboutin, while simultaneously calculating how catty I can be to the models who will be serving me brunch at Pastis. Fuck the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building - I have couture shoes to try on. (And a huge thanks to the fabulous Ashley Van Buren of The Brow, who knows all the ins and outs of the city, for the amazing personalized guide - I can't wait for our happy hour!)
This isn't just the big city with Broadway shows and Times Square - this is the city where Grace Coddington walks the streets (well, is driven in a town car, I imagine) on her way to Vogue, where Woody Allen rode shotgun in a yellow VW with Diane Keaton to a far away land called Brooklyn, and where drag queens took over the world in 1969 from a little inn called Stonewall. This is the city where Tommy Ton takes his famous shoe portraits, where Semi Precious Weapons gave their first show in a bar for 12 loving fans, and where Ladyfag shows off her arm pit hair while hosting fabulous gay parties in The Village.
I quite literally dream about living in this city, although I know the reality of such a dream is completely different. It's the most expensive city in America, and if I wasn't staying with friends I wouldn't be able to afford such at trip at all. My plan for food is to buy a loaf of bread and a pack of Swiss cheese, hoping my host appreciates a decent toaster oven as much as I do. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be completely and utterly disgusted by how dirty the city will be. Here's hoping that in 6-inch heels I'll at least be taller than the piles of trash bags on the sidewalks.
And speaking of 6-inch heels, my go-to shoes for stomping around NYC:
And the concrete loves my shoes.
PS - I know I haven't posted in a while, but, as always, I'm hoping I'll get back into the swing of things. :)