On my way out to New York for Thanksgiving break, I felt the sudden urge to grab my old Lumix LX3 and document the entire weekend in black and white. Here's a dog's eye view of what I saw:
I spent Thanksgiving day at my aunt's upstate,
in picture-perfect suburbia.
Then off I was to the city to revisit old haunts and discover new ones.
Bon Chon at Mad For Chicken, you can always count on it being orgasmic
too much jewelry (my brother's Cartier watch, Susan Rosen horsebit bracelet, my mother's white gold and diamond bracelet, Philip Crangi railroad spike cuff)
stairwell at the MoMA
beneath a painting by Jackson Pollock, the father of all paint-splatterers (Assembly New York coat, Barbour warm pile liner worn as vest)
wares at the Brooklyn Flea
lunch is the new after-dinner drinks (Number (N)ine sunglasses, chiffon shirt of my own design, necklace from India)
feigned casual conversation with the author of Feigned Perfection
skirt by Comme des Garcons
the street scene in NoLita
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
The draft of my letter to Santa might not be miles long, but the combined value of the items rivals the GDP of a small nation. What's in your (unrealistic) wish list?