Shopping Spree... In a poem

"It's not your job to like me - It's MINE" by Byron Katie.
"But if you like me - Know that I love you" by me.

Family, family. It is lovely to have my sister Hala over, sharing the good times with my kids and our excellent entourage of super-duper friends. The sun has come out (finally), and the warmth of summer days is here, making London the most fantastic city. People look happy, responding more generously to their smiles. I'm still trying to sort out my summer clothes; finally, it's over!  

After all the worldly hopping
Accumulating all the possible shopping,
My apartment has the air of a bazaar
Looking in from above, it must be so bizarre.
How can a woman with one body and two feet
In the height of summer, need so many clothes to beat?
The rows of shoes would put shame on Imelda's addiction
Gloves, hats, belts, remember the bags, reality or fiction?
How much lingerie alone have I purchased recently?
From outrageously sexy nighties to some decency.
And here I was talking of the greed of the politician
While where I have to look is within, could that be my mission?
I have worked so hard to reach this positive level of serenity
Stopped smoking, in control except, is it a case of lost identity?
Lost in the momentary excitement of buying something new
Why the need for so many possessions? Do I even have a clue?
'Enough, enough girl', I keep telling this extravagant heart of mine
But then, I am blessed with as many friends as flowers in a shrine. 
A life filled with love and joy from old as well as new
As in my cupboard, colourful, green, pink and blue.

So what is the complaint if I like to shop here and there?
Sometimes, my room is filled with many clothes lying on a chair.
The most important thing is I am grateful and still breathing
Of a liberated life I never imagined, forever increasing. 
As long as love is around, everything is solvable
Everything becomes irrelevant when love is probable. 
What we own in this world, we are leaving behind
For this reason alone, make your life worthy and kind.
To end on a naughty note and finish it off with a smile
Have I had as many lovers as clothes? Although it has been a while!

I never imagined I would be inspired to write a poem after sorting out the heaps of summer clothes and shoes. (I won't continue with the list!). But there you go!

As to what have Hala and I been up to? Sis arrived here, recovering still from her fall at a fancy dress party back at home, where she slipped and broke her ankle. The cast has been off and we both realised she can no longer power-walk in front of me in her flat Todd's, every time we go out. I hope she gets better soon, and I will no longer complain about her speed ahead of me.
Anyway, we had to miss going to Fabric on Saturday for our evening of rave. Instead, we had a wonderful dinner at Lady Saba's, then on to the Arts Club in Mayfair, where we met up with Alain and Romel's friendly smiles, Aisha totally in charge of everyone's comfort, dressed in a Frida Kahlo style, joined by Pedro, Hessa and others. The night continued as a new destination with a view over the theatre land, where Aisha directed us. It was the typical 'GG Party'. And what is GG, you may ask, as I just made that up? 'Girls and Gays Party'. Wonderful. Meeting a worldly, handsome, fun bunch of people was a pleasure.  

Aisha's bar-b-q took place on Thursday evening on the terrace overlooking tall trees and the green gardens; feeling the close hug and familiar kisses upon entrance, with smiles as warm as the summer evening breeze, it turned out a very delicious soiree. Very civilised in terms of time, as we left by midnight, but did we end the night there? Nope. We partied at a new couple of friends' apartment in the hood. Summer makes me feel alive, and getting better acquainted with the company we were keeping was a great way to end a bright day. Also heard a few great tunes played by Bashir, our host, under the high ceiling of modern space and the balcony viewing of Hyde Park under a clear, starry sky. 

I have yet to mention the inspiring workshop I attended on Saturday, 'Writing from life' with Vicky and the writer and comedian Alexei, as they took charge of stimulating our minds further to an open space of creating words to connect with the reader. Well, hopefully, it is working! The main thing is, I love it. Writing this blog is helping me immensely in the discovery of the Self. How about we understand anyone if we don't begin the process within ourselves?

Learn to love with an understanding of what makes people react the way they do... But first, begin with yourself. Acceptance is a primary key.  

As I read Gandhi's words today:
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
Be strong!

Angelique Kidjo in Exotic Manchester!

Dream on, but do not attach expectations to it and see it unravel surprisingly beyond any possible image you could have thought.  

Now, where is this leading to?  
It must have been a couple of years ago, or three or one (I simply cannot keep track of time as it rushes me past), when I was shown a DVD of an incredible singer called Angelique Kidjo performing at Lola's. She came on stage, looking tall in a manly black suit worn with a white shirt and moved along the stage like a tornado of power with the most enchanting voice. I asked Lola who she was and whether she was as impressive in person as in the video. I do remember saying:
"I'd love to meet her one day."
I meant that I was happy to see her perform live on stage, but little did I know I would actually get to meet Angelique Kidjo in person!

Donna, whose friendship in the few months we have known each other has deepened in my heart through her warmth and kindness, had invited me on her trip to see Angelique Kidjo perform in a theatre in Manchester. I gladly accepted it, as no is not an option in my book. After a short sleep and a late night out, I awoke early to meet Donna at Euston Station for our two-hour, fifteen-minute train ride to Manchester. It takes the same time as it takes to go to Paris! Here was so much to talk about that a nap along the way was not in question. e arrived at Piccadilly Train Station in Manchester (somehow, I would have never related Piccadilly to Manchester!) and went on to check into our hotel.  

I had not grasped Donna's closeness with Angelique, and it was quite a surprise when she said we were meeting up with the world-famous singer for lunch!  Ms. Kidjo walked into the lobby, followed by her husband. I was taken aback by her petite appearance, but boy, lurking beneath that small frame, was a character larger than life. We were of similar age but worlds apart. 
As we walked through the mall in the town centre, I was amazed at how modern the city looked. In all the years of residing in this country, I do not recall visiting Manchester but a weekend in its countryside visiting an old childhood friend, Ruby, who lived there for a year. W l, there is always a first time. In the little we saw of the city, the combination of modern and old buildings next to one another brought a certain charm to the place. We lunched at Nando's, which I learned began first in Africa! I am the only one who has yet to notice this? We also know something new every day in many ways.

Manchester Mall

In the afternoon, we were all picked up at the hotel by a special van to be driven to the Royal Northern College of Music for rehearsals. Up and entering a back door stage of black walls and high ceilings, we were shown the stairs that led to Angelique Kidjo's dressing room. I may not have been jumping up and down with joy as a youngster, but inside, that childish excitement at a candy store overtook me. I kept telling everyone: 'This is so cool. As old as I am, I feel like a six-year-old right now!' Then, I thought: 'Why do people try so hard, at times, to hide their feelings in the fear of looking 'not cool'? I never want to lose that child-like innocence.'  

Rehearsal - Behind the scenes

Donna and I were later joined by Ernest and Kelly, who chose to drive through five-hour traffic to get there for the concert that evening. We sat amongst the audience for an exhilarating two hours of a musical soiree. I was smitten by Ms Kidjo's distinctive deep vocals, the words baring knowledge of love, loss and life, of her father's guidance even now he has gone (this made me cry, thinking of my dear papa), her love for her family and her land; Africa, amongst many other subjects.  
"The microphone," announced Angelique Kidjo, "Is my weapon of mass love."
It gave the spectator an insight into the remarkable woman she is, in the way she thought, and when she walked amongst the crowd, right to the top of the auditorium where everyone was standing, she showed yet another gesture of grace. At the last song, Ernest grabbed my hand to join others from the audience at Angelique's request to dance with her on stage.  
After the concert, Donna said: "Haldita, you looked as though you were in your element dancing on stage to her music."
I replied: "Oh my darling, I was."
That evening ended back in our hotel lobby, having dinner and an exciting conversation with a couple of the crew.

Angelique Kidjo in Concert

The image I always had of Manchester, a cold, grey, somewhat industrial city, changed after my visit and experience into a colourful, exciting and happy town of exotic charm. It confirmed my point, which is that it is not merely the facade of a place that helps us envisage the impression it has left in our mind, but especially the people we come across on that journey who leave us with memories of that city.

For a different kind of scene, Friday was an invite from a DJ friend, Bass, to a rave party in Notting Hill. Si ena met me at the entrance of a warehouse-like building, accompanied by a group of international companions, to be stamped into the dark, exotic ambience created amid a vast area. We arrived early, before midnight, and walked through the desolated dance floor, past the DJ playing, to get to where one typically goes on such occasions... The bar. In no time, the place filled with a crowd of beautiful people and the night took on a full swing. My goodness, so many embraces from friends made mainly through the nights of clubbing! Kasar showed up amongst the familiar faces with a warm hug and words that I could only sigh with particular joy. From Miami to Vegas, he met with mutual friends; he reported: "Haldita, you must be having a great life with all the positive vibes being sent your way."  
Indeed, I do.

As we settled into the party's mood with DJ friends playing on stage, I turned to Sirena and recalled: "Oh, Dear! I e someone waiting for me in bed."
Sirena looked at me rather astonished and asked: "Really?! Ri ht now, as we speak?"
My answer was: "Aha. My new man. Despite his persistence in keeping me home, I had to come and see you guys as promised. So  he said he would send out a search warrant for me!"
She raised her hand to give me a high five and smiled: "Respect."
I left the party scene sooner than the finishing hour; it was rather odd noticing police cars and vans all along my drive home!

Monday was a home rest to relieve the cold I had picked up in Manchester. On Tuesday, my dear sister Hala arrived here to plan our next voyage of sun and sea as soon as she walked into the door. The reason for writing my blog was delayed from Tuesday evening to today was an outing to the Brompton Club by an invite from Sirena for a French Tuesday, an event organised every last Tuesday of the month on a global scale for the jet set crowd to attend in the city they are visiting, or living in. Al and Romel were there before me, and Hessa turned up shortly after 8:00pm at a large table in the corner of the club.  
I asked Sirena: "Darling, did you book half the club tonight?"
Before the end of the event at midnight, Aisha walked in on her way back from Paris to meet us. The music turned sour, and we returned to my place for a catch-up with some friends. He ce, it was very late, and I was too tired to write last night.  

Now... Could romance be in the air, or is it a temptation? It may be an imagination running away in my mind. The e will tell.

Saint or Sinner?!

Gratitude

Blessed

Content

Detached

Free

These words came to mind at the beginning of my meditation today.

With a positive attitude, life flows by, like a river on a mountain, under a clear blue sky, in the glow of sunshine. All I care to hear is the birds' sound and the leaves' movement as they barely touch through the breeze of the fresh air.

There is always a reason for absolutely everything that happens in life. Be it a smile from a stranger, for a momentary boost of the mood, or an in-depth chat with a friend over the progress we have made along our journey to reach a state of joy within. What made me get so emotionally philosophical now was an inspiring lunch with Charlotte, talking about the fruition that comes with a good heart and a better understanding of how the world operates on a spiritual level. Let alone anger, ego, and attachments of any kind, and instead, replace them with love and forgiveness, detachment, and freedom. Free yourself of all expectations.

Last night, my new... Mmm... For now, let's call him 'my new intimate friend'; he went to the movies and had a delicious bite of Japanese at a new local restaurant. A yummy night altogether.

I picked a French/Canadian film called 'Cafe de Flore' by Jean-Marc Vallee. At the end of the movie, I was left astounded. It intertwined the life of this 'perfect' couple, in parallel to the love of a protective mother towards her son with Down syndrome. Stories separated by time and space, conjoined by love. This a definite recommendation. It reminded me of a book I once read about past lives called 'Many Lives, Many Masters'.

In case you found the beginning of this blog too heavy, let me tell you about a fun adventure that happened not long ago!

On one of my journeys of discovery of the self and places, I found myself landed in Kerala, India, with Aisha, Aida and Raquel, on an ayurvedic resort amid a garden of Eden, on top of a forestry hill, close to the sea, after two weeks of early morning meditation, followed by yoga, vegetarian meals and two hours of massage by two ladies daily. On our last night, we decided to dine at the sister resort to ours called Somatheeram, ten minutes away, accompanied by our new friend Omja, who had been most hospitable in showing us around the area on our two weeks' stay and with whom we had well acquainted over our regular visits to his jewellers' shop in the compound of our hotel. The night had fallen as we arrived at Somatheeram, dressed up in the Indian costumes we had purchased on the day for our last supper under the stars. As I took a picture of Aisha in her loosely worn headscarf, I noticed a blue-eyed young man pass by and smile. Of course, catching his glance, I asked sweetly:

"Do you mind taking a picture of us?"

And so he did. We asked him to join us for dinner, but he declined; however, he took our mobile number in case he could come by after the meal. 

We finished our meal, and as we returned back to our place of residence to catch a couple hours of sleep (not me, being last minute, I had not packed yet) before being picked up at 2am for our flight, a text arrived, from whom but the blue-eyed Vlad asking whether I needed help packing! After all, a girl could do with the company at a late hour amid a forest. N'est-ce-pas? Remember I was sharing a room with Raquel, who was in a jolly mood, chatting to us over dinner after her first half bottle of wine in two weeks.  

But that cheeky kiss he stole from me in the bushes that night before leaving must have left its mark as two years down the line, I received a text from Vlad, saying he was visiting London for two weeks and asked whether we could meet. My busy schedule had not allowed any time for a get-together since I returned from New York. On his last day, we finally managed to see each other, recalling the possibility of our brief encounter and the re-visit. Different friendships form in different ways.

Last week, as part of a cultural feed, Sylvia joined me on Wednesday at Tate Modern's Damien Hirst exhibition. Although I did not consider myself a fan, his work on butterflies caught my attention, especially their light blue circle, fine and delicate. The countless medicine cabinets, each carrying a theme as in 'Sinner' to 'Anarchy', with a recommendation of different pharmaceutical goods to take for each heading, from Zantac to antibiotics and pain killers to many more suggestions. 

We left Tate Modern in the rain to catch a taxi to the West End's Royal Haymarket Theatre to see the comedy 'One Man, Two Guvnors', which was funny but not precisely the humour I enjoy. Once our cultural needs had been satisfied, hunger drove us to dinner at the very trendy Bodega Negra basement in Soho, to be the last two leaving the entrance next to the Sex Shop on the street.

Another visit to Novikov's restaurant last week was inviting Hessa to celebrate her years at a large table with her many friends present. After dinner, A group descended to the basement club for more chatter and a little boogie.

Where else did I go?  

Omar had asked me to accompany him in Westfield (Mall) one-afternoon last week to look for ladies' high heels as he and Bobby were invited to a fancy dress party of 'black tie and stilettos'. I was totally flattered by my friend asking me, and we giggled while he tried walking in them, being thrown glances of lifted eyebrows as Omar innocently confessed to never having tried high heels before. Not only did Omar and I meet again at Hessa's party, but he and Bobby invited me and Kristel out to Noura's fabulous Lebanese on Saturday night. We met three times in one week!

Tonight, I have returned from a cocktail at Savoir Beds. In this shop, a party was held promoting their high-quality beds, filled with feathers and girls dancing in Myla designer lingerie for the evening's entertainment. The invite came from Kelly, asking Ernest, Torsten and me to join her at the venue; right up my alley in more ways than one!  

As I moved my head from side to side to look directly across the crowd, Kelly followed my gaze and smiled, asking:

"And what are you looking at now, Haldita?"

Then she turned around and noticed a tall, long-haired blonde man standing on the opposite side and said: "It's just eye candy; I knew exactly."

I blew out air and said: "I don't just have a sweet tooth, you know? But also a sweet eye!"

We parted ways before midnight tomorrow. There was a new destination in store.

As one of my friends texted:

"Haldita, are you in town or on another one of your exotic destinations?"

I had to reply: "Well, I'm off to Manchester tomorrow, out of all places. Would you call that exotic?!"

 

My life is so varied, and my stories are diverse... Now...  Am I a Saint or a Sinner?! 

Neither really, I am just me; sometimes saint, others sinner. 

High Line New York to O2 London

Every city has its Wonders, and New York's latest development, the High Line, is an elevated linear park on an old railroad track site, ranging from the Meatpacking District through Chelsea, close to the Hudson River. 

 

Elliot had suggested I join him for a stroll on the elongated bridge over the city. The fact that the weather was cold and cloudy happened to be in our favour as the tourists were a fraction of what, Elliot mentioned, usually would be the case. 

'We don't allow such minor details as the weather to stop us from whatever great plan comes along' was a point of view my friend and I shared. Elliot and I had travelled around Ukraine together on a train some years ago. He explained how 'the gay boys moved out of Chelsea into Hell's Kitchen' and hence the beginning of the rise of the development in this area. We finished the tour in the cold breeze at the trendy Scoop boutique, where I managed to leave with four cashmere jumpers (or sweaters, as the Americans put it); they did have a sale on them! We then looked around Jeffrey's trendy store in the Meatpacking District. Still, my attempt to find lingerie in that area of town could have been better, so we headed to the recommended La Petite Coquette boutique in University Place. 

The very efficient saleswoman came to my rescue when I told her frankly:

"I've a date tonight, and I'm desperately looking for something special." 

Don Juan's re-appearance, this time on the New York scene, was an episode of High Chaparel meets Sex and the City, a case of make-belief. Then again, isn't every scenario of our life simply a fabrication of our mind before we act upon it? We met up at the bar of his trendy hotel for a drink and a nibble. Needless to say, I needed to catch up (not easy being a lady!). Our exchange of flirts, accompanied by the bubbles of champagne, turned the evening into a fascinating ending.

The following day, all the excitement of the past few days left me in a deep nap at midday to wake up and realise I was late for my meeting with Josh, exploring the Metropolitan Museum! Instead, we walked around Central Park before I cabbed down to the hip Standard Hotel, yet again, back in the Meatpacking District. This time, it was to see Lori, who was also visiting New York. We had soup at the hotel's outdoor restaurant. We left to walk around the area and pay a visit to her enchanting musical friend Rally, only to head back to the Beer Garden at Standard, where we met up with Pari, who was an accurate picture of a hard-working New Yorker, slender, in a dark suit and white shirt. 

After a can of Red Bull, I managed to get my strength back together to join my companions for dinner at the Grill of the same hotel. We managed to spend our entire day at the Standard!

As Pari parted and we wandered, thinking of heading our separate ways, the loud music from Hogs and Heifers' Saloon drew our attention.

I asked: "What's that?"

Lori explained: "It's one of the oldest bars around."

I smiled: "Shall we?"

In this dingy, dark, all-American saloon, we noticed heaps of colourful bras hanging along the top side of the bar on the left. A jolly, male-dominant room, where the two bikini-topped ladies in shorts served mainly beer. They then raised the sound of a country tune playing and jumped on the bar to stomp their feet hard, dancing. It was amusing as more ladies joined them on the rigid, wooden strip. Lori was busy chatting to some Swiss travellers when, on their second round, I jumped on the bar to join the only barmaid dancing. She asked if I would take my bra off for their collection!

Upon entrance earlier and seeing the hanging bras, I told Lori:

"Darling, whatever happens, make sure I don't take my new bra off. I only just got it from Victoria's Secret!"

On Wednesday, the evening before leaving for Southampton, I joined Arnie and Elliot for dinner at the highly recommended Babbo's. The restaurant was fully booked, with the option of going early and hoping to find stools. As my friends arrived on time, they found the three best seats at the corner of the bar near the entrance. The waiter was super sufficient, and the food, especially the choice of three kinds of pasta we tried, was beyond words. Next to Arnie sat a gentleman in a suite; Kevin began the conversation by telling us how he manages his travels by flying through New York, especially to have dinner at this eatery. As our gourmet experience ended, Kevin recommended a club called Avenue on Tenth Avenue. Arnie and Elliot were too tired to join, so I happily agreed to accompany our new friend Kevin to the disco. 

As we arrived by taxi, the doormen told us we were more than one hour too early for the club's opening, so we diverged to the first bar along the same Avenue, at the Morimoto restaurant I had visited when it first opened. Kevin was delightful to talk to, and he dropped me home in a gentlemanly taxi.

Then came our trip to the Hamptons with Elliot. Next episode.

For now, London is calling. 

After quitting cigarettes and the high calories accumulated in the US, I went straight from Heathrow airport, landing myself into a Weight Watcher's Program on the Monday I arrived back home! WW seemed all about 'points'. As one lady said, "It's WW as opposed to AA".

I accompanied Ernest to a book signing on Tuesday evening at Gucci's Bond Street store. Derek Blasberg's latest book, 'Very Classy', is on how to be 'An Exceptional Modern Woman'. My friend invited me to one of the most delicious sushi I have ever tasted. Not quite in keeping with my Weight Watcher's points, but the food was irresistible.

Thursday, my wonderful friend Al was in town, and he had asked me to join him, Zaine and Kam, who were all in Mykonos. Later, we met in Hvar last summer for dinner at Montgomery's in Notting Hill. Their loving, friendly energy boosts my joy every time we meet.

Now, for Friday, it was dinner at Bar Boulud. Surprisingly, I had been called at the beginning of the week by an old friend, Jodi, who lived in London many years ago and then moved back to the US. We had lost touch some thirteen years prior. She had managed to find my mobile number and had called to ask if I could join her and her mum for dinner upon their visit here. It was such a pleasure seeing them again and sharing our history of more than a decade past.

As for Saturday... I left home at 13:00 hours to collect Ernest and Thorsten for a surprise brunch visit to Troy at his gastro pub. After those yummy cheeseburgers, I played a few rounds of backgammon with Torsten and Troy and smashed my way up to the top by winning every game. Sorry, boys, I just had to rub that in! haha

On Saturday evening, Pedro collected me before midnight to dance to Luciano's music at the O2. The club was previously known as Matter, which I had never managed to get to because it's soooo far away. They held a memorable night of Luciano DJaying till the early morning hours. At the VIP lounge, I had one of the best times, with plenty of familiar faces and warm hugs from more Mykonos party crowd to quite a few of my Fabric buddies. Plus, I managed to disappear into the smoking open area, where drinks were served, and other DJs played, to make more new friends. What a joyous time! From 1pm Saturday to 8am Sunday.

No need for a tunnel; when you see the light

Life is a journey of love and friendship from Manhattan to Greenwich, London. As Ernest beautifully put it: "We all love to love. What else is there in the end?!?"

The Manhatton Bash!

Franky: "Hey, Haldita, how's your life on the fun side?"
Me: "My life IS fun. Now, which side of fun do you mean?!"

How can New York not be fun, with all its offerings and the extra bonuses of having some of my great friends residing in this city? Just can't get better!
The first evening at Andrea's, after saying a brief hello at 9pm to her neighbouring friends having a dinner party, we went to the Dutch restaurant downtown to check out the hotties she had previously encountered on her last visit. Alas, we got there, and no cool dudes in sight. We had a lot of catching up to do anyway. We travelled to Venice and Edinburgh together in June last year, and there was much to discuss.

Friday, I walked through Central Park to the West side and down until my feet could no longer take it. The evening consisted of drinks at Arnie's for a handful of visitors coming from out of town (as in New York) to get better acquainted before his big birthday bash the following night. Elliot's appearance was half the size he used to be and absolutely delightful. I can only describe him as one of the finest characters, with charms like Cary Grant, who looks like Rock Hudson and an accent that can only bring out the best of his humour in an overstated manner. He also has a mind of his own!  
As he arrived, even later than me, first into the kitchen, we embraced each other after a long haul of not seeing each other as though it was only yesterday. We do keep in touch regularly over long telephone conversations. He lit a cigarette and told me his secret of losing all the weight almost effortlessly. He was an inspiration to watch. Then he recommended we move to the guestroom for a tiny spliff.
"Are you sure, Elliot?" I asked in doubt.
"Yes, Daaaarling. Of course, it's okay." He nodded and led me to the second room, which had magnificent views over the grandness of Queensboro Bridge.  
As we lit up, I noticed a red tramway named 'Roosevelt Island', full of people passing right below the entire frontage window.  
The scene could not have been more surreal... As of my life.  
At this moment, Arnie walked into the room in distress and said:
"Trust you guys to start this! There are official government people at this party."
"But what's wrong, Arnie?" Asked Elliot, surprised.  
And so, Arnie grabbed the joint from his hand and flushed it down the toilet in the en-suite bathroom.
"That's it," he claimed, "I'm flushing it down."
"But why?" Elliot rolled his eyes up in the air. "But no one told me!"
On that note, we moved into the living room to mingle with the guests.
As we left the party after 22:00, Elliot accompanied me to dinner at Rosa Mexicano, where they make guacamole on a tray at your table, accompanied by a pomegranate margarita.

Saturday, I yellow-cabbed my way down to the Gold Coast to meet up with Elliot for a round of Soho. We passed Washington Square and walked along the trendy shops under sunlight, sometimes hidden under the typical tall high rises. Went to some of the first innovators of the 'concept store' as in Kisan and lunched at the first restaurant we could find with open-air space to the outside and seats amongst the mad rush of the weekend shoppers. Just as we arrived inside, two people left by the open, airy entrance, and we sat there, dazzled by the crowd passing by and the breeze of that beautiful spring day New York offered. Wish I could remember what I had for lunch that day! No report.

Washington Square

New York's diverse facets

              

Before getting too comfortable after lunch, I had to bid Elliot farewell till later that evening and rush to our hair appointment with Andrea. Sooooooo, sex and the city! Haha. Once back at Andrea's, it was so much fun getting ready, over a glass of bubbly, for Arnie's party in the most girlie way possible. We managed to stumble down two blocks in our high heels to the 'salon' where it was held. I was wearing my daring Tina Turner dress, bought with Elliot in Vienna, in a sandy/brown colour, and my friend wore a slick New Yorker look in a black fitted skirt and cream top with a wrap-up leather belt. The Louboutins were a must.

The birthday bash was a total success. Although I was hardly drunk, the excitement of going through a good friend's past years in one night, with the accompaniment of his family and people he met along the way, some of whom had flown many a mile to help celebrate his life so far, made the evening fly by, as another great memory.
There was a surprise appearance, organised by his sister in charge of the event, by a drag queen singer and dance artist who had everyone watching in amazement at how her somersault in the air turned into the splits straight onto the floor! Super talented. The show ended with the song... New York, New York!
Andrea and I left under her umbrella in the pouring rain.

Sunday was rainy and cold. We got ready for brunch at the top of Barney's Store, where the hip hung out. Quite a few diners stopped at tables to say hi, as is usual for Sunday brunch. We eavesdropped on the girls talking and shopped a little in the open space. I bought my first skinny-leg trendy pants. Andrea left me in the heavy downfall at Madison's to continue my shopping chores.
That evening back at Andrea's, I passed out like a baby in front of the TV in my new, comfy tracksuit.  

And this was the first weekend coming to an end, and next... We will head on to the adventures that followed. Exciting stuff!