I felt the same way about Manhattan this trip as I did about my Wednesday morning visit to the Met: I only saw the tiniest piece of it. Our hotel was just a block south of Central Park, and my boundaries for exploration turned out to be 25 blocks north to the palatial museum at 82nd, and as far east as Madison Avenue. A small, narrow pocket, to be sure, but more than enough this time. I had breakfast both mornings at a sweet French café, and spent two and a half hours wandering the 19th & Early 20th Century European Paintings wing in daze, wholly overwhelmed by the volume and quality of the art. My visit was punctuated with an unfortunate phone call from my credit card company, alerting me to fraudulent activity totaling nearly $5k (!!!), news that warranted a last minute dash to the American Wing to track down a Severin Roesen still life just to calm my nerves; art therapy in its most basic form.
My darling friend Lyndsey was in town for work, and we were able to meet for lunch and shopping along Madison Avenue before she had to hop in a cab, leaving me unattended at Ladurée (always a dangerous endeavor). Jamal and I had drinks at our hotel’s rooftop bar before dinner and a late night show at an underground jazz club. I stuck to my plan of eating macarons for breakfast but, because that alone wasn’t indulgent enough, did so in a plush hotel bathrobe in the even plusher hotel bed. Not bad for a Thursday.
Next week: photos from The Met and, of course, Ladurée.