New York is filled with tourists right now and I love it.
I don’t love it when they walk down a narrow sidewalk in a daisy chain of six across/ three deep at the slowest pace a human is capable of; so no matter how complex your offense may be, you will NEVER get through-but that’s ok.
This year I love them because soon I will be one of them in someone else’s town. I too will don my fanny pack, my favorite sneakers and my camera around my neck. At least, that’s what I thought until the French survival kit from my step-mother arrived.
Inside is a Parisian Uniform: a strapless black jumpsuit, a pair of gold hoop earrings, kitten heel cage shoes, camera ready glow bronzer, a package of adhesive mustaches.
In health news, I’m on week four of a horrifying cough. I coughed so violently, I literally strained my intercostal muscles. The doctor gave me cough syrup with codeine so I can sleep and told me to stay away from caffeine, alcohol, and dairy: the only food groups in Paris.
As we pack up our second temporary UWS apartment, we should feel sad, but we’re off to Paris so we feel ok. We found a third temporary UWS place for the month of September, then the hunt begins for a permanent home October 1st.