I’m a Southern California native and I’ve already ditched New York City once to spend over a decade between Key West and Miami Beach in large part because that’s the land of endless summer. There is no time I feel less like I belong in New York than in the dead of winter—and February is the worst. In the company of New Yorkers blasé about the winter cold, I only feel more acutely that I’m not from around here, that I was not conditioned for this climate.
The knowledge that I could just as easily be riding my bicycle through Old Town to enjoy lunch on a patio in the sunshine or running on the Miami Beachwalk as the moon rises over the Atlantic only makes the sting of wind chill and sub-freezing temperatures all the sharper. Every winter that I spent in South Florida zipping through the Gulf of Mexico on a parasail boat or sunbathing by my oceanfront pool, I was acutely aware of what those suckers up north were putting themselves through; it was a deliciously smug and self-satisfied feeling.
And yet, here I am, once again, just another hard-up sucker trudging through New York in the dead of winter.
Of course, I’ve learned to cope. Skipping town is an obvious tactic. (To be clear, I’m currently writing to you from Miami.) A good winter coat is the best defense. And this February, I’ve enjoyed leaning into the cosseted cloisters of the uptown lifestyle. For me, that means spending a lot of time at Bloomingdales buying and returning things and saying hello to my friendly salespeople at Prada and Saint Laurent, the occasional amble up and down Madison Avenue, cozy neighborhood dinners, indoor activities that access the sublime (art galleries, poetry readings, theater), leaning into old reliables and not feeling the need to venture beyond, say, Chelsea or Flatiron, if that.
I’ve even had acute moments of absolute love for the city, usually while walking briskly down a beautiful block and becoming overwhelmed with a feeling of freedom, possibility and gratitude.
UES
On Madison
One day I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren that I walked 3.5 miles on Madison Avenue in subfreezing temperatures in search of the perfect cashmere sweater. If only I had gone straight to N. Peal (75th Street). A London heritage brand since 1936, they specialize in organic cashmere and have dressed Daniel Craig as James Bond; it’s one of my favorite little Madison Ave. discoveries.
Via Quadrono (73rd Street) – the perfect shopping break snack; a casual old world Italian cafe with a cozy, cavernous back dining room for (relatively petit) paninis that pair perfectly with a glass of wine, a cappuccino or a cup of soup, depending on your mood and the weather. (In the spring and summer, the sidewalk seating is also divine.)
Cy Twombly at Gagosian (76th Street) – There’s something about Cy Twombly’s wobbly word art and cool abstract color fields that always sets me at ease and puts a smile on my face. Gagosian is currently showing key bodies of his work from 1968 through 1990, including pieces never before shown, through March 22.
Etel Adnan at White Cube (78th Street) – A fascinating multi-disciplinary artist, Etel Adnan’s “A Beautiful Light” (pictured at top) is a celebration of the centenary of her birth, featuring both small and large scale abstract compositions in the juiciest of color palettes, on view at White Cube through March 1—hurry!
Island (93rd Street) – There’s something about this restaurant that makes me want to be a denizen of Carnegie Hill and descend from my high-ceilinged apartment every night to sip Sancerre and eat bland food amidst the regulars at the mosaic-tiled bar or green-and-white-striped banquette surrounded by paintings of classic yachts and schooners.
Corner Bookstore (93rd Street) – the coziest of independent neighborhood bookstores, since 1978.
Off Madison
At the 92NY one evening, my friend Kevin Young celebrated “A Century of Poetry in the New Yorker,” a new doorstopper of an anthology that he edited with poems arranged according to era and also the time of day they’re set.
La Voglia – a nice place to share pizza, pasta and wine with poets on Third Avenue.
Isle of Us – declared favorite salad restaurant, but omg if they don’t also make one of the best breakfast sandwiches in the city: silky, quiche-like eggs, gooey melted cheddar, basil, scallions and spinach with a smoky tomato jam on grilled multigrain bread to keep it all together.
UWS
Florentin – new neighborhood spot that tows the line between Israeli Mediterranean and French bistro fare with a casual, yet stylish vibe that feels more Brooklyn than UWS that I’m rooting for.
Café Fiorello – A Lincoln Center pre-/post-theater classic since 1974 with warm, old world hospitality, an antipasti bar, Italian staples and, my favorite, the crispiest of flatbread pizzas that pair perfectly with, of course, martinis, in a warm, clubby setting. (Billy Joel’s cousin is the maitre d’, or so I like to think.)
Art & Culture
“Luna Luna: Forgotten Fantasy” at The Shed – An art amusement park from Hamburg, Germany lost to storage crates since 1987, Luna Luna is an unearthing of whimsical carnival rides designed by the brightest lights in street and contemporary art of that time: a Keith Haring merry-go-round, Basquiat Ferris wheel, Dalí geodesic dome and Kenny Scharf swing ride. It’s a delightful hidden gem for all to discover through March 16.
The Outsiders – buncha lil bobcats rarin’ for a fight; or a wholly satisfying new Tony Award-winning musical based on the SE Hinton novel and 1980s Coppola movie that’s ultimately about finding art and your voice in the unlikeliest of places; I especially enjoyed the slow-motion dance-fight scenes.
Beyond the Cloisters
Inga’s Bar – if I was cool and lived in Brooklyn Heights, I like to think I’d be a regular here.
Gjelina – neighborhood-defining Venice Beach restaurant known for open-fire cooking and hyper-local, produce-forward dishes set up shop in a sleek space on Bond Street; great place for dinner at the bar next to married billionaires (or get a table with girlfriends and share everything).
