Me n' Arlene in Central Park
Just as Pink Ladies are the choicest, juiciest apples of them all, ahhh so too is New York the mightiest of all… fruit bowls…?
I could wax lyrical about NYC for days at a time. I won’t bother… I’ll just direct you here. I think it does the job nicely.
I stayed with my cousin who lives on the upper west side in a kick-ass neighbourhood. There we are up above havin a chilled out afternoon.
You know when people show you photos of their holidays and you’re secretly thinking ‘I’m so bored right now, I could poke my own eye out’? Well with that in mind, I thought I’d share with you some snaps of my holiday purchases and leave it at that!
mmmm velvet, feel me nice!
This little beauty is an asymmetrical velvet top from a shop on Ludlow Street called Reformation. It was a total find. You had to buzz to be let in which at first made me think it was a YOU-dont-belong-here-kinda-place but after a while I realised it was more down to the shop’s slightly dodgy-ish location. The woman who owned it was absolutely lovely, and wasn’t at all up in my face while browsing.
All the pieces seemed to be “pre-loved” as they say, and had been re-worked into some sort of fabulosity. I fell for this customised workman’s shirt which had been cut up short at the back.
The Reformation pieces were pricey, I cannot lie. Except I’m not telling you how much. I kinda can’t believe I spent as much as I did. But feck it – holidays are for blow outs no?
Arlene’s apartment was on a block with an Urban Outfitters within spitting distance. In previous years, I’d have gone mad for UO’s gear. Sooooo much cheaper over there than here. But meh, I didn’t see much that I fancied. Except for this batwing, sparkly-striped wool jumper. I know it’s a million miles away from an Isabel Marant sweater… but I felt like was channelling her when I wore it – so it had to be purchased.
Anyone ever been to Canal Street? For those of ye who haven’t, it’s in Chinatown and it’s the knock-off handbag/sunglasses/watch mecca of NYC. I ended up in the basement of a dodgy store with an hysterical Chinese lady telling me to “hurry up” and pick my counterfeit bag. After selecting one and paying her, I had to hang on in silence til the coast was clear for me to leave through the Scooby Doo fake wall of the shop. Honestly the whole thing was gas. For the rest of the week, I was surrounded by birds with a real Chanel 2.55s – but as Cormac reminded me, I had a good story about how I acquired my fakey.
Coco is probably spinning like a top in her grave
That’s probably quite enough for one post. I have tonnes more I could share with you about where I ate, drank and was merry. But that’s for another blog eh?
Aideen
