I call front desk and ask for a bigger room and luckily enough they have one, so we can move later. Great!
That happieness does not last long though and I have another breakdown when I face my spotty red face in the sunny bright bathroom/cupboard. Crying like a baby, poor Prince is trying to cheer me up. I tell him to get lost and to leave me alone with my misery. So he leaves, sweet Prince, and I am alone with me and I and the red mirror image. I cry another half an hour, sobbing a big fat sorry for myself until I get the better of it and try to focus on real issues and worries in the world. My vanity is an unhealthy and ugly habbit, but I know it won't go away any time soon. Better to accept - it will stay with me forever!
Bummer.
Dressing while crying I try to make the best of me. Not too bad, once dressed nicely and hair brushed and some spots covered somewhat by my 'not magic at all concealer'. (guess, only some days the magic is working full blast)
I make it down to follow Prince on a walking tour uptown. Gosh, I have forgotten how it feels to be surrounded by clouds of human bodies, walking, talking, pushing, smiling, screaming, biking... The windows are calling out to us... BUY ME... BUY ME... YOU NEED ME... YOU WANT ME... Do I? Everything is dressed in sparkle and glitter to get the mood into the pockets of change. Consumer world, at it's best, even in troubled times.
What I do need are boots. Since all my cloth (only my favorite ones, naturally) and shoes got stolen by the Moroccan mafia (that's what the french police said) couple of months ago at the beautiful Cote Azure, I am left shoeless. (and speechless for that matter, as that 'Mafia' raided our car at day time, in a not too quiet village square... maybe that is how the village makes a living? Reselling all the goods at the weekend flea market? Must be a good business concept, especially in the summer months, when the place is crawling with a well heeled crowd, naive and off-guard because totally enchanted by the beautiful South of France... ahhhh... just like me... )
BUT
I have to be honest though, this year's footwear fashion is definitely not my sole of joy. The heels are way too odd and too high (even for a heel fetish like myself) and the over the knee thing is sexy, but in confined rooms only. (with the Prince on his knees)
That is me, old style elegance ONLY turns my toes.
We try the first shoppers heaven - Saks. The foot section is overwhelming and the display lovely. Like pastry on peddels, each shoe competes for attention of the potential buyer. Women flutter around like doves in a cage, feathers up and shiny. But from all those candy- like creations, nothing is to my liking. Prince is as unexcited as me and somewhat shocked by the pure ugliness ( as he calls it) of this season. But somehow he does find a gorgeous pair of boots, of course also one of the much higher priced ones, since Sergio Rossi is the maker. Brown, elegant and simple, they are just what I love... Who am I to say NO?
Moroccan Mafia be aware, I am refilling my bags!!!
A quick bite at the Saks' cafe, leaves our tummies filled, yet not too satisfied. Not that I expected much from a shopping mall restaurant, but let's say I expected more, afterall it is SAKS, not SUCKS. (sorry)
Salvatore Ferragamo, more than just a designer:
Born in a poor Neapolitan village, called Bonito, Salvatore longed to make shoes since early age. So at 13! he opened his 1. shop and at 15 he left for Boston to work with his brother. A year later he was already working for Hollywood, altering badly fit cowboy boots for cheap Western's.
Not long before he became the shoe maker of the stars and in 1927 he returned to Italy, for better quality and craftsmenship, outfitting the 'beau monde' from homeland.
In his autobiography Shoemaker of Dreams, Ferragamo himself divided women into three categories, according to foot size:
Cinderella (small) I AM a CINDERELLA, but I am a 38.5???
Venus (medium)
Aristocrat (large)
"The Cinderella, I have observed, is essentially a feminine person, a lover of jewels and fus, who must be in love to be truly happy. (the last bit is for sure me... I can not live without L-O-V-E)
"Venus is usually of great beauty, glamour, and sophistication, yet under her glittering exterior she is often essentially a home body loving the simple things of life. (sounds like me...)
"Venus is usually of great beauty, glamour, and sophistication, yet under her glittering exterior she is often essentially a home body loving the simple things of life. (sounds like me...)
The Aristocrats are sensitive, even moody, but possess a great depth of understanding."
So, I must be a VENUSELLA???
Who are you?
So, obviously, Salvatore Ferragamo is our next stop and they do have beautifulllll things. Looks like not every fashion house needs to be a donkey to the seasonal taste. There is a special room called CREATIONS with replicates of original Ferragamo masterpieces for starlets of the yesterday. The black and white Viatica court shoes made for Marilyn Monroe in "Some like it hot" are simply divine and more art work than fashion piece. And yes they do come with a very hefty 'fine' and I think to put such masterpiece below the ankle area is pretty much a crime.
Same goes for those famous flats that walked Audrey into Tiffany's at morning hour.
Ohhh, but they are all magnificent... The french sales man is also doing his very best to make me linger and linger and... I decide on a simple pair of boots, black and medium-low heel for every day walking and I insist (to the Frenchmen's despair) that those extremely sensual over the knees and laced in the back boots are not needed. I admit, I just changed my opinion about the over-knee thing, as this pair is the definition of a graceful sex-kitten. And than I fall for this amazingly well cut grey coat. Interesting lines, yet simple, it is the understated perfection and a coat that can last a small eternity. It is time for a new coat, anyhow, as I wear my one treasured coat ( a gift from Prince) for the last 4 years(imagine) and time is now showing just a bit. My beloved PRADA coat with the velvet bow has been everywhere with me and only escaped the Maroccoan Mafia, because I had stuffed it into the trunk of my car. It is one of those pieces, that you put on and look like a million. Perfectly cut, it almost seems taylor-made and never lets me down. I lost it once at London airport and almost lost it myself, but some nice lady found it and 3 days later it arrived at home, safe and sound. The last disaster stroke, when I had pulled it from our rental-home cupboard (old and humid) and hungry moths had savaged the velvet pieces. Thank god I have the best seamstress in Lisbon, who did magic in 24 hours.
Inspired by so much black and white romance Prince takes me to Tiffany's where he asks for breakfast.
No breakfast, no dinner the guard smiles. But maybe some jewelry? I am not big on 'decoration'... -yet! - the Prince reminds me. Maybe still too young, I have a tendency to feel like a christmas tree, as soon I put on more than some pearls or a pair of earrings. But taste for luxurious sparkle can be acquired and so I browse for some inspiration. No, nothing. Too new, too modern, too common. I much prefer vintage pieces, things with that little something. The best place for treasures of that sort is the BAZAR in Istanbul. There are some dealers, with rooms no bigger than a shoe box (or our bathroom at 70 Park), that will open the Aladin safe-cave and tenderly unwrap specimens of unimaginable beauty (and price), yet still cheaper than on 5th Ave.
Bottega Veneta, another favorite of mine has not much to get me excited. I try one lovely ashen rose dress with a strange boob construction, which make mine look like double volcanoes. I need a boob-job, or a different dress?!
Prada, also not my season.
I loose interest and so does Prince and we enjoy the christmas decoration instead. The gigantic star on 5th is magical, I just hope it is secured well!
Time to go home, (our new room is bright and big and since higher up, much quieter) as we have a sushi reservation at 8.30, someplace booked by the concierge again. We do have full confidence in her by now.
It is Koi, and it is just around the corner, in walking distance again.
We march off and arrive in a rather club-like place which reminds me of something... Digging up my clouded memory it slowly hits me. KOI... yes, Koi... wasn't there a boy, who did some work for Koi, in LA, yes... Ahhhhhh, lover's-dose from the past...
Koi
Bryant park Hotel
40 West 40th
10018
NY
Tel: 212 921 3330
www.koirestaurant.com
Food is pretty good, but I am not excited. Maybe it is too noisy and too much of a club, I just don't fancy even my portion of sashimi.
The lychee Martini on the other hand goes down pretty deliciously.
And than it happened: Waiter walks by and I get a whiff, a whiff of something better than Tiffany's or even almost Salvatore. TRUFFELS. Oh my, paradise on earth, I am a 'trufflefile'.
On my hungry request I learn that this is a truffle salmon something and I am shaking my head, giving Prince that special- OH PLEASE... PRETTY PLEASE... pout that always seems to work. The waiter is kind enough to reveal a praised Italian not far from here and with a bit of luck, they will be still open, he smirks. Paying and flying out the door (did I mention that there is even a nightclub, downstairs across the toilets) we catch the 1. cab and head for DESSERT.
The place is called Felidia and looks a bit dodgy, but rather real. There are still some guests and I am smiling from ear to ear. But the waiter shakes his head, no more food tonight! SORRY! I put my head on Prince's shoulder doing that pout without thinking and seems like that waiter is no waiter at all, but the owner and he waves us in. (pout when you want to shout!)
White truffle menu?
$$$$ (cough)
Got to be tagliatelle.
This one is made from 30 egg yolks I learn from the proud waiter, who talks to me in Russian. (do I look Russian?)
We order a vintage Barolo, 1990 which is not as good as one would expect. The color fades into a light brick and for me also the taste seems to fade. Of course I am no wine expert, but striving to get there.
But I can be the truffle and pasta expert for tonight and what can I say. Any word would be lost in such pure moment of palate pleasure.
MHHHHHHHHHH
Yummmmmmmmm
MHHHHHHHHHH
That is it. My food expertise stops there.
Let's call it a night, it has been a full day and 2 dinners is certainly our exhaustingly first...
Felidia
243 east 58th
10022
NY
Tel: 212 758 1479
www.felidia-nyc.com
www.lidiasitaly.com
Felidia belongs to Lidia, check her out on facebook... That's mama cooking. I love her!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment