Last week I experienced the greatest job perk ever: a trip to New York City to cover Bridal Market, which is essentially the wedding industry’s lace-and-ivory take on Fashion Week. When we weren’t attending runway shows or clinking champagne flutes with bridal royalty Randy Fenoli, my boss and I explored some of New York’s hippest neighbourhoods. As she observed, we saw the good, the bad and ugly during our five-day visit.
There was so much good: Watching the sun set over Manhattan while sipping cocktails on the rooftop patio of Brooklyn’s Wythe Hotel. Attending the jaw-dropping Jenny Packham runway show and seeing in person the sexy, retro-glam bridal gowns that I’ve always adored. The 1950s Ray Bans that I fell in love with at a vintage store in Chelsea, but sadly had to leave behind thanks to their $225 price tag. Cupcakes from Little Cupcake Bakeshop in SoHo. The smoky, wood-fired eggplant appetizer at Lil’ Frankie’s in the East Village. The Chelsea Market. Strolling along the High Line on a spectacularly sunny day where I snapped a pic of a technicolor kiss.
And just the intoxicating feeling of newness that comes with visiting a city for the first time. Experiencing every neighbourhood, street, and restaurant without the weight of history. No prior expectations or associations tied to every street corner. No tombstone of ancient heartache over here, no reminder of former failure over there. No heavy-sigh-inducing daily routines. It was all new and unscripted and it was all wonderful.
Except it wasn’t so wonderful when a cyclist pulled up alongside our cabbie’s open window while we were stopped at a red light and spit in his face, yelling and swearing and accusing our driver of having cut him off. A drop of the man’s spittle landed on our cabbie’s stiff upper lip. That was definitely the bad.
And the ugly? Well, that unflattering distinction belongs to the harrowing lime green bridal gowns that we saw on the runway of a show sponsored by The Knot. Tsk, tsk.