And so it was today. It's an achingly beautiful autumn day, on the warm edge of cool, and a deep blue sky. One of my dearest friends, W, just moved to town (I am still astounded by my good fortune), and we met up with our mutual friend A for brunch at Extra Virgin, a charming restaurant in the West Village. We caught up on each other's lives-- careers, relationships, travels-- with our usual openness, sly commentary and wisecracks. We weren't done talking by the time we finished our meal, and left in search of a park.
Walking down Perry Street, A pointed out a brownstone with a "No Trespassing" sign:
It is, of course, Carrie Bradshaw's "apartment". Perfect.
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Girlfriends challenge us to march to the beat of our own drum. I (heart) Carrie Bradshaw (despite that it is of course only a tv show).
ReplyDeleteHate to disagree, but SATC was not a 'plus' for the city. Quite to the contrary.
ReplyDeleteI write about it here
and Jeremiah's Vanishing New York covers it here.
I'm in the pro-SATC camp: excellent writing, excellent characters, groundbreaking discussions of relationships (friends and lovers) and sex. Bravo.
ReplyDeleteLast time I was in NYC, I took a SATC bus tour. With a girlfriend, of course!
Sorry Peter, it appears to be a 'girl thing' :)
ReplyDelete