When I visit a place I like to pretend I live there.
From 9/25-10/2, I lived in Brooklyn — half the week in Carroll Gardens, half in South Slope. All this week, I’ll be writing about last week.
On Tuesday, I took (the subway to) Manhattan. I had a long, productive and pleasant meeting with the editor of my upcoming graphic novel. Was slightly freaked out by the building’s security measures, though apparently they are standard practice in many places of a sort I do not frequent.
Realized that my Fluevog boots with the three-inch heels were not in fact made for walking, at least not in NY. But soldiered on and met up with friends at Bemelmans Bar, where I enjoyed the artwork and company more than the piano and prices. The bar is at the Carlyle Hotel, named for the mural that Ludwig Bemelmans painted inside featuring among other characters the famous twelve little girls in two straight lines. His work extends to the lampshades:
The art really was extremely cool; apologies for these crappy photos. Oh but wait! It’s the Internet, surely someone else has taken better ones…yes, here’s one courtesy of writer, artist & musician Summer Pierre:
Mr. Bemelmans received eighteen months of accommodations at the Carlyle for himself and his family in exchange for his work.
From bar to dinner, and afterward we ended up on the roof of one friend’s building. Atmosphere and view were choice.
Perhaps because I traveled from Brooklyn to Manhattan, this was the day I started noticing how deeply partisan folks are about their particular neighborhoods. People have strong opinions about neighborhoods in Portland, too — in fact I would hazard that people have strong opinions about neighborhoods everywhere — but something about the population density or just the overall energy of New York seems to make allegiances more intense, like neighborhood fandom.
Tomorrow: Discoveries, mysteries, and festivities.