For every high-end boutique there is a closet-sized souvenir shop for each subway performer there struts a supermodel-in-waiting. Nothing surprises me here, which is the beauty of the city. But hey, this is New York, where once, in my twenties, I watched while the phrase, “expect the unexpected” was tattooed on a transgender woman’s left breast in the East Village. It seems that my trips to New York are quarterly now, and each time I go it’s a mix of crowded whiskey breakfasts, quaint martini lunches, splendid Bordeaux dinners, and late night sake and red meat with a 6’5” Englishman huddled over a fire pit in the middle of our table. “Who has touched and who has dabbled/here in the city of shows/Openings, closings, bad repartee/everybody knows” Posted on OctoUpdated on October 26, 2016 Guilloché All Day: The Beauty That Was WatchTime New York (and all that came before it)
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