NYC July 2011 - Day Three: 4H Club - Hazy, Humid, Highline & soHo

Warning:  Today’s entry has a ton of pictures…  Also, I decided last week's experiment with a larger font made me feel a little too first-grade (or senior citizen), so I'm going back to the "normal" size font (says Blogger anyway).  Prep those peepers and get ready for the entry that may well crash my computer before I'm done with it...

Day Three:

When we awoke to our third morning in the city, the skies pretty much emulated my own condition – grey, a tad humid and fairly hungover.  Like me, the clouds looked a little heavy, hanging low and pretty much inert, ashen in color.  Unlike me, they probably couldn’t blame their semi-sorry state on one too many margaritas.

Ugh, bright light!

You could tell it was going to be a sticky, icky day.  Not ideal weather for tackling our big walking endeavor of the trip:  the Highline.  OK, so all our activities and destinations in NYC required walking, but this was an activity dedicated to hoofing it…  while feeling rather off.  Still, we had allotted this morning to experiencing New York’s newest attraction.  So, we got dressed (slowly) and wobbled out of our hotel in search of a pre-walk meal.

Now, as y’all know, hangover food must be greasy and filling.  What better to feed our recovering stomachs than a larger-than-life pastrami sandwich at the legendary Katz’s Deli.  We walked in, got a ticket and headed over to the long expanse of counter (they scribble down your order and you pay as you leave…  yeah, after you’ve wolfed down your food…  I have to wonder what the rate of success is for dine-n-dashes.  Not that I’d try that.). 

 Somewhat foolishly, my husband and I decided we could each put away one of those sandwiches.  When the guy set two plates filled with craziness in front of us, I already regretted having eyes bigger than my mildly queasy stomach.  Nonetheless, we took the plates over to a table and dug in.  Sadly, I was only able to finish off a little over half of my grease fest.

Stuffed, a little less hungover, and ready to walk off the thousand calories we’d just ingested, we called L & S to let them know we were ready to conquer the day.  While we waited for them to meet up with us, we hit a couple of stores near our hotel, where we picked up some fun t-shirts and then dropped them back in our room.  Here are some photos from our morning activities, starting with some more pics of our hotel:

Ugh, curse you, architecture school!  I blame you for all these construction shots:

Shopping...

Back at our hotel, rare images of peace and quiet in the second floor bar (OK, it was 11AM):

On the street again...

Unfortunately, we never got the chance to try Luke's Lobster place or the Bibim Bar.  Too much NYC, too little time...  sigh.


We headed over a few blocks to meet up with L & S.  Together, we took the train over a couple of stops and popped up in the Meatpacking District, home to not just its namesake, but also a thrilling amount of shops and restaurants (I’d drag L back here the next day to start my Ultimate Shopping Marathon).

The Highline is sort of like an architect/urban designer/city lover’s wet dream.  Take a dilapidated old rail line, spiff it up into an urban park, and watch it become quite a success.  For some reason, I had this idea of a tranquil park that few people would take the time to discover.  Maybe some local hipsters, said design enthusiasts, and a few lost tourists.  Holy crap, it was like waiting in line at Disneyworld – except that line was the entire route through the park and back.  In a weird way, this is good, because the place sure is popular.  I’m sure those who participated in the restoration can be proud of a public space that seems adored and well-used.  I’ve seen too many spaces that were designed with good intentions, but seem awkward and neglected instead.

Again, this place is best understood via pictures and not another five paragraphs of me trying to be witty.  So, here we go, in the order of our walk to the end and back.  Eyes, get ready!


Looking to the very beginning of the Highline, which extends a bit beyond the entry stairs:

A view from the beginning back to the stairs:

I spy Joi-sey:

If you're into exhibitionism, the Standard Hotel is for you!  Here's an interesting article (there are a few of 'em) addressing the particular situation that the establishment celebrates, and raises an intriguing question for the rest of those who dwell along this newfound public attraction.  Below, the hotel:

Moving along...

Ahh, maybe this dude is too ensconced in Texts From Last Night or Damn You, Autocorrect to notice the sleek benches and railway-acknowledging design before him:

Pieces of the original railway peek out from wildflowers:

The Standard again, looming bright and tall (sans naked people, at least as far as I can tell):

For whatever reason, some of the buildings became camera hogs...  this one being among them.

I might also suggest a drinking game revolving around the Empire State Building...  it also seems to appear an awful lot throughout the trip pictures.

Anyway...  oops, there it is again, darn building!

Watching traffic.  Better than watching the paint dry, right?

Frank Gehry's IAC building at the far left:

Remember what I was saying about the Empire State Building?

Bottom's up!

Even the birds love the Highline:

Sometimes it's fun to look up and pretend there are no people...

Who am I kidding, we're in New York City.

And to your right, Neil Denari's new residential tower:

As I gazed up at Denari's new building, I had to again wonder about the whole public/private boundary of the home, which has essentially been done away with thanks to this old rail line's new function.  While those in newer developments might embrace their life being on display for random strangers to see (like those at the Standard), people in older structures probably did not foresee the drastic change in their privacy.  Imagine, this is some people's front "yard." It makes me think of the "El" back home and those homes whose windows butt right up to the tracks.

There is a bit of guilty, voyeuristic pleasure, though, of stealing glances into someone's home.  Especially at night, when rooms glow out of little window boxes and light up the darkness outside.  It reminds me of walks my friend and I used to take while living in Austin, TX.  While the sleepy residential streets were a far cry from the density of Manhattan, the experience is the same - little snapshots of someone's nest, made all the more mysterious by lit windows in the night.


But I digress...  and spying a patio in full daylight is no less intriguing:

I'll bet they throw some killer parties.


Which of these things is not like the other...  (oh come on, you must remember that song...  Sesame Street?  Anyone?  Bueller?)

A pasture not full of grazing cows, but ambling people:

Why, you, too, can turn your life into a 24/7 reality TV show for all the Highline visitors to see...  probably not very cheaply, though:

Another building which found favor with my camera:

All this walking is hard work!

What's that up ahead I see...  why, it's a...

An amusement park/carnival/inflatable oddness!  I love!  What a way to end the Highline's current termination point.

Grab your beer, or shot glass...

No blog entry is complete without video, right?  I liked this bizarre set-up that much:

Here, you can see the rail line in its as-yet-to-be-converted condition.  This, the third leg of the Highline, should open shortly:

What else to reward people for their walking endeavor but...  food and drink!

At the end of the second leg, we turned around and headed back.

Let me know if you see anything remotely creepy in here:

And one more building my Canon Powershot was smitten with:

I think one reason I kept getting drawn to these large warehouse-y buildings is not just the spaces I could see from the Highline, but the hidden spaces beyond.  As someone immersed in architecture and design, it's hard not to let the hamster go full throttle on that wheel upstairs and conjure up what the innards of those buildings might look like.  Apparently, I've been reading too many issues of Dwell and CB2.

Too many windows to peer into, must rest:

Yep, Jersey...  it's still there:

This is the closest we got to the good ol’ Statue of Liberty.  Even though she was about the size of a gnat from where I stood, I got a little shot of the (good) chills as I gazed over at such a powerful symbol of the United States, and thought about what it means for different people, past and present.

If you missed getting a Highline t-shirt (which, of course, both my husband and I couldn’t refuse buying – hey, it helps the park!), you could always purchase this stunning sock art painting.  I guess that redefines stunning.

Descending the stairs...

Mission accomplished!!  Congratulations, I survived the walk and you survived the onslaught of photos from was really quite an enjoyable, if somewhat congested, walk.  I'll bet you've seen enough windows to last you a couple lifetimes.  Also, tipsy yet?  No?  Well, good.  Because you know what's next...

Yuppers, as per usual, food and drink were in order after our big excursion.  A short walk away, we landed at Dos Caminos, nicely situated in the middle of the area’s hub-bub.  However, this time around, I opted to stick with Sprite and no booze.  My friends and husband chuckled at me and proceeded to go straight for the hair of the dog.  I wasn’t sure if I felt pathetic or proud for abstaining – I just remember too well how I felt a few hours earlier.  And with the humidity and heat, I decided to take it easy.  I did not pass up the tacos and guacamole, however.  Some pics of the stores we passed and our refueling destination:

Want.  Elephant.  Now.

The inside of Dos Caminos, our late lunch locale, was relatively quiet.  Outside was where it was at.

With some time to kill between lunch and dinner, I decided I wanted to stop into a couple shops.  Like runners who prep for the big race day, I wanted to get a whiff of what retail wonders were available before diving into the endurance event.  This sent the guys packing for another bar ASAP, and gave L and I some girl time.  Some of my favorite designers have stores in the Meatpacking District, including Tory Burch.  We stopped into her store briefly, and I admired many items, but did not buy a thing.

L and I headed over to NoLita/SoHo, which we knew would offer many shoppable treasures.  On my last trip to NYC, which was over a decade ago, I remember stopping at a cool store that sold fancy stereo speakers, and also visiting the Betsey Johnson boutique, where I bought a cute little beaded purse – my only purchase on that trip.  In my memory, the area was still kind of artsy and quiet (for Manhattan).  On this day, I was astounded at how many chains I saw – J Crew, Bebe, Rampage, Guess?...  It reminded me more of a stretch at the Mall of America than the epicenter of "only in NY" shopping.  Still, the area is home to many local stores and international brands that restrict their US retail space to NYC.  This includes UK favorite Topshop, where L and I ducked into.

While L browsed lazily (in the way locals can afford to browse, knowing they can just stop in another day instead of trying to see it all like out-of-towner-me), I could feel my brain clicking into high gear: survey the store, start hitting as many racks as possible, eyes trying to record and process as much as they can…  see if anything catches the eye…  Yes, crazy brain.  Ultimately, I pulled about six or seven items with me into a dressing room.  I walked out of there with a few pieces, including this punky top that I paired with a yellow mini:

More pics after we left Topshop...  I do like Nanette Lepore's stuff, but didn't pull L in there.

'Nother place, though I'm not sure if it was retail...

As L & I shopped our way across town, we watched as the sunny and warm day slowly melted itself into the loveliest of urban sunsets.  Call me a sucker for summer in the city, but the next few pictures just make me all fuzzy and happy.  Such a magical golden light beaming down on the concrete, bricks and cars:

L and I wandered over to the NoLita neighborhood to meet up with the guys.  They were just finishing a drink at a nearby bar, which my husband really liked.  It looked like a great place, with the insides spilling out onto a little patio, just up a short flight of stairs.

The four of us headed over to a place called Bar Bossa.  With futbol on the TV and corresponding jerseys displayed on the wall, the small space felt homey and festive.  And yes, I finally decided it was OK to have a margarita.


Here are snaps of the bar, all cozy and inviting:

Bathroom wallpaper:

I’ve heard of soap on a rope, but not on a bar:

Sa-lud!

L and S had been singing the praises of a semi-secretive bar in their neighborhood for some time.  The kind of place where there’s no sign out front and a line to get in.  Like the Violet Hour in Chicago, they won’t let you in unless there are seats available.  None of this standing around and crowding the bar.  Anway, we thought tonight was the night to give it a try.  Unfortunately, the regular dude who hangs outside and monitors the crowd must’ve escaped NYC for the holiday.  In his place was a nice enough kid who never followed through on his promise to call us when a table opened up.  On the plus side, our decision to wait it out led us to a quick bite at “the arepa place,” also know as Caracas Arepa Bar:

The tiny dining area was full, so we went next door to the even tinier take-out branch.  Crammed into a table, our crew sipped micheladas and water while waiting for our treats.  As they note, this ain’t fast food:

Finally, our little hot pockets of deliciousness!  The unnamed side sauce is incredible and should be served everywhere.

Once we realized our date with Death (the sorta secret bar - actually called Death & Co.) had been, well, delayed, we marched over to Mayahuel.  Street scenes on the way over (yes, more window voyeurism):

The ubiquitous cellar entries:

Definitely some of New York's finest taking a well-deserved break:

Man, I just love the rows of buildings, punctuated by wiry fire escapes and a random display of lit-up windows:

Somewhat peeved by our massive fail to meet Death, we were a wee bit cranky by the time we reached Mayahuel.  I think we scared our poor hostess with our “we need a drink NOW” dagger glances, because her initial “we have a wait” quickly changed to “wouldn’t you know, a table just opened up!”  Pobresita.  Once inside, we behaved nicely.  The space is quite lovely, adorned with high booths, some quirky chandeliers, and – at least at our table – a fabulous wall-inset diorama:

I think I ordered the Slight Detour:

While the guys wanted to make a late night of it, L and I announced "game over."  Indeed, an early night with quality sleep was necessary for tomorrow’s big day of shopping!  So, L headed home, and I returned to our little room (this time pulling the large curtains shut) for some much needed rest.  On the way back, we passed this charming storefront (which we'd pay a visit to in a couple more days):

Bed, sweet bed!

Ah, it was time to get some shut eye for tomorrow's big day - even more daunting than tackling the Highline...  SHOPPING!



Images:  all my own