You can’t ask mother to pick a favorite child
New York City, Young Kim, church peanuts, and many breakfasts.
It’s always easy to decide to come to New York, especially at the arrival of spring. LA has felt slow, and I enjoy a change of pace every once and a while. I decided to do some creative projects while I was there to make it more worthwhile. I had to check a bag to fit my styling kit for shoots I had planned, so I didn’t hold back while packing. I also figured I’d need room for things I may pick up on my travels.
Items in my suitcase include my Dries Van Noten jeans which I’ve had now for almost 3 years. I wear them at least 3x a week and recommend them to everyone I know. Lemaire twisted shirt which I purchased at Totokaelo (RIP) for my 24th birthday one week before the Covid lockdown. I like when clothes have a story that makes me feel nostalgic.
Plus a Comme Homme Plus vintage knit, Armani trousers, Studio Nicholson trousers, vintage Levi’s (orange tab), Brooks Brothers blue cashmere sweater, J.Crew cashmere sweater, black Ralph Lauren blouse, 5 vintage t-shirts, Romeo Gigli jacket, Chanel flats, Maryam Nassir Zadeh button down and sweater, Buly hand cream, one pair of yoga pants (I scheduled a Sky Ting class at the new Noho location), Michelle Del Rio skirt, plus an array of other vintage for my shoots. I don’t want to bore you with more.
After the hour-long journey from the airport, I ordered Thai food and wondered if a double dose of magnesium was a good idea, I decided not. That night I slept terribly due to a banging radiator that wouldn’t turn off. I am a very sensitive sleeper. I cannot sleep with any noise, light, or irregular temperatures. By which I mean it needs to be 60 degrees.
On Saturday I had 3 terrible coffees (?), which did not serve well considering the previous night of restlessness. Luckily, a very pleasant cheese danish was in store, as well as a trip to Outline in Brooklyn. The great palate cleanser of a Perfect Store, many of which exist here in New York, for LA has 2 at most. It is terrible.
Later, I had plans with friends that I ultimately had to cut short in order to go back to sleep. I could barely keep my eyes open. For dinner, Carter and I tried Noodle Pudding, an old Italian restaurant in Brooklyn Heights that is cash only (perfect) and whose menu is in Comic Sans. We ordered the radishes and butter, fig and melon with prosciutto, and since ramps are a rare find in Los Angeles, we knew to get the ramp pasta. The meal was lovely, and we walked leisurely home in hopes for a better night's sleep.
On Sunday morning I went to Abraço to meet up with Paulena, ⅓ of Sensoria, to make an exchange. A few months ago, I heard about Young Kim’s book A Year On Earth With Mr. Hell from Kaitlin Phillips. In February I read a piece on Young in the New York Times and became obsessed. I wanted to know everything, and apparently so did everyone else. I searched the internet to find a copy, only to find it sold out everywhere. Right now you can only get one resale on Amazon, here, or from a random boutique in Union Square (?). I found out Paulena had a copy and she graciously agreed to let me borrow it for the week.
I was excited to attend Kumi’s class at the new Sky Ting space in Noho on Sunday morning. The space is covered in what seems to be the Nordic Knots Leo rug. It wasn’t a surprise to see Chanel products in the bathroom, as Krissy Jones is one of the chicest New York girls. Soon there will be saunas and an Osea spa, the ideal situation for anyone. I used to go to Sky Ting when I lived in New York, many lifetimes ago now it seems. It’s exciting to come back to a place that feels familiar, and is fully realized.
I spent the rest of Sunday doing pulls for my shoots, and ended the evening at Long Island Bar with a bowl of fries, some fresh cod, and a Coca Cola. The piece of fish was so miniscule that we had room enough for a sundae from Brooklyn Farmacy, which was completely insane. It looks like a tower, but I swear it’s only 2 scoops. Immediate bike home to convalesce.
Monday and Tuesday I spent shooting around downtown and in a studio in Williamsburg. I had a quick stint uptown on Monday afternoon to see my shrink. I always take the 4 train to 59th street and stop in to my favorite hole in the wall pharmacy. They sell Santa Maria Novella and Mason Pearson brushes for cheap. Sorry for you, I don’t know the name. Then to a bodega next door to buy white tulips for said shrink, her birthday is on Wednesday, as well as our 5 year anniversary.
It’s impossible to come to New York for just a week. What kind of torture is that? I have to go everywhere and it’s impossible. Abraço again first. They are mean there and I love it! The olive oil cake is worth it to me. Next, I needed to return to Rescue Spa where I used to get facials when I lived here. It is a true luxury to get your face touched in this place. I left feeling the hottest I have ever been, even with my period looming in the coming days. On a high, I took a yellow cab (preferred over Uber) down to SoHo. I needed to eat something besides that olive oil cake, but Balthazar didn’t open until 11:30. I traipsed into a new store on Mercer called Bomi, reminiscent of the days of The Line (iykyk). Stocked with Iko Iko pillows and cord covers, Pien Barendregt bead coasters, Lesse products, claw clips that look like hard candies, and Hudson Wilder glassware.
At Balthazar I sat until my coffee got cold, combing my way through Kim’s erotica. I love this passage, which I sent a photo of to a girlfriend of mine, “if you didn’t know sex, I think you would not be able to comprehend a lot of things. You certainly wouldn’t be able to understand anything artistic. The experience, at least if you enjoy it fully, is unlike anything else, like a fourth dimension.” I like that they didn’t force the check on me, as some places do in LA. When they seated a man wearing khaki shorts at the table directly next to me, I decided it was time to go. I didn’t understand why they’d do such a thing, as there are plenty of seats in the place. I don’t think men should wear shorts no matter how hot the weather is, unless they are on a run or at the beach. As I was leaving I told him to have a good one, but he didn’t look up from his phone. I wished I wasn’t so nice.
I decided I’d walk further downtown and grab some sundries from Dimes Deli. Fortunately, no one I know hangs out there anymore so I didn’t have to worry about running into anyone. I was pleasantly surprised that they carry a version of church peanuts. These are all the rage in LA– they sell out at Cookbook usually ~2 days after they get them in. I did some research and tried to find a site that had them in stock, but they’re nowhere to be found. Someone is even selling them on eBay.
On Thursday my allergies transported me into a version of purgatory in which I wished to be able to itch my eyes with a fork or other sharp object such as a toothpick. Carter and I went to B&H Dairy for breakfast, one of our all time favorites. We love the staff there and they make us laugh, plus coffee is included before 11 am. We were still in the mood for caffeine so walked across to Abraço and sat listening to the jazz record that was playing. I had to go pick up my new Prada sandals at the cobbler in Williamsburg and dragged Carter with me. Afterwards, we sat by the water in an old spot I used to frequent when I lived there. It was a beautiful morning, we watched the clouds burn off over the East River.
I launched my book at Mast almost two (!!) years ago and going there brings back great memories. This trip I picked up Motel Chronicles by Sam Shepard and The Zombie Pit by Sam D’Allesandro.
Thursday evening, Kathleen managed to get a hot table at I Sodi. 4:45 pm. I prefer an early table over a late one. I try not to eat past 8 pm– it messes up my sleep schedule. You can tell the quality of a meal based on the bread service, which was pristine. Wrapped up in a crisp white napkin, the warm bread was napping and steaming hot (but not too hot). Olive oil with salt and four cerignola olives were patiently waiting for us on separate dishes. The artichoke salad with fresh parmesan was a highlight. I got a big bowl of spaghetti. Romance in the West Village. We decided against dessert because we wanted to find an ice cream truck. I think it’s luxurious and quite sexy to walk around licking an ice cream cone with sprinkles. Soon enough, my new Prada sandals informed me it was time to go home after some 13,000 steps.
I dreaded Friday because that meant it was almost time to leave. I knew that soon I’d receive an email from JetBlue today informing me that it’s time to check in to my flight. I hate leaving New York, and I don’t feel that way about Los Angeles. I love both places, but leaving New York feels like pulling out a deep splinter. It still hurts afterward. It’s easy for me to be in LA, to live there. Not a lot of bad things have happened to me there. I can’t say the same for New York. It’s not always so exciting to think of the prospect of visiting home, but it is never easy to leave.
Nour and I split a rhubarb custard danish and an earl grey morning bun from Radio Bakery, a place I’ve heard about constantly since it opened last year. I preferred the rhubarb. Anxious about not having finished Kim’s book (I had to return Paulena her copy before leaving town), I found somewhere in the city that had it stocked. Somewhere I had never heard of before around Union Square. I asked the shop owner why she had the book, as it seemed to me a hot commodity, and that it was mostly sold out online. She told me she is friends with the publisher, and that she comes in frequently to shop.
Sc103’s popup was downtown on John Street where I lived my freshman year of college, so I hopped on the 6 train to Brooklyn Bridge City Hall and walked through my old campus. I took the long way. I didn’t necessarily love my college experience, but I do have happy memories in the Financial District. Usually I avoid the area completely.
I bought my first links tote three years ago before ever deciding to work in fashion. I get more compliments on my Sc103 bags than any other item of clothing. I went with Tessa down to their studio (the last pop-up here before they move to Red Hook) and was so happy to be greeted by Sophie and Claire, two beaming rays of light. Tessa noted to me after we left that they feel like old childhood friends. The space was adorned with their perfect creations; a dress up closet for the coolest girls in town. They thoughtfully decorated the space with things that represent them and the brand ethos. A wooden wind chime in the bathroom, handmade bows made from ribbon that I inquired about, but sadly were NFS, tape dispensers with metallic rolls of skinny tape resembling the colors of their link totes hung below, and my personal fav: a links cord cover. The most loving care goes into wrapping up each purchase, something other brands should seriously take note of.
On Saturday morning, I woke up and immediately felt dread. I was leaving today and there was nothing to do about it. I reluctantly packed my suitcase. For breakfast I had a lox bagel and one last latte from Abraço. My home in Hollywood is waiting quietly for my return. My Moccamaster is turned off, coffee beans unground. My yellow couch is uncreased, pillows fluffed. My station wagon is parked outside in front of the blooming bougainvillea. I know exactly where everything is, and how everything will fall right back into its place.