On [redacted day of the week], I went to Poster House. Yet another NYC treasure that I somehow havenât visited until now! Iâm righting so many wrongs in my life this year.
Visited just in time to see two great exhibitions: one on environmental crisis posters and the other on art deco influence in â30s and '40s advertisements. I appreciated the exhibit labels just as much as the objects on display â you can always get a feel for a museumâs personality through reading those little plaques, and I felt that this one was quite simpatico.
They have a cafe and great little gift shop, too.
Afterward, I went right around the corner to NY Cake. Itâs the go-to shop for baking-industry professionals.
I went mainly to ogle the rainbow sprinkle section and inhale the Valrhona-scented air. As much as I wanted to buy some sort of recherchĂŠ ingredient or confectionary gizmo, today was not going to be the day.
My spinster outings usually have no rhyme or reason beyond an ineffable urge to overpack my bag and just sally forth, but thatâs not what brought me to midtown on this [redacted day of the week]. No, today was planned entirely around procuring the two-part salad you see above, courtesy of the newest fast-casual joint on the block.
Truly, thereâs no such thing as free lunch. This one cost me two hours and a not-insignificant amount of my sanity. Also, my order was incorrect. Steve Ells, if youâre reading this, I have notes.
As you might be able to tell, I ate this in Madison Square Park, with Shake Shack in my peripherals and its greasy char wafting through the air. I had to will myself not to immediately order a second lunch after eating this one so I could have some protein in my system.
Thankfully, I was able to placate my cravings with rhinestones, polyester, and arty nudes.
It took an Elton John closet clean-out to get me to Christieâs for the first time! I can understand why Iâve never been here â the auction house is in the center of tourist hell, directly across from Rockefeller Center. And we keep incompatible hours, so I could only be here on a [redacted day of the week].
But! What a treat to explore the collection of my teenage idol. (No joke â my best friend and I shot a completely unironic tribute music video to âCrocodile Rockâ in high school and I wore out my vinyl copy of Donât Shoot Me, Iâm Only the Piano Player.)
Apparently, Gianni Versace was a good friend of Eltonâs, so there were many hypnotically serpentine motifs to stare into. Fun fact about the shirts! You canât bid on just one â theyâre a package deal.
It was impossible to get a good picture of his 1990 Bentley convertible, which is, to be sure, one of the crown jewels of the collection.
But the scent of leather emanating from this exact vantage point was so potent, I couldnât move until I felt sufficiently buzzed from the desiccated musk.