Although a lifetime New Yorker, I never actually lived in Manhattan, respectfully referred to by the locals as “The City.” Until now. I just made the leap to an apartment on the East Side, and it’s a life-altering experience. I walked to Broadway a few nights ago, and my commute to work is all of 12 minutes – 13 if there's an unusually long traffic light.
This past weekend, I experienced my first snowstorm as a full-fledged Manhattanite. Spending most of my life in Brooklyn and suburban Westchester County, I was never a big fan of winter – icy roads, shoveling driveways, perilous commutes. But a snowstorm in Manhattan is magical. While my former Scarsdale neighbors laboriously shoveled their ways out, I happily walked to Central Park. The route took me past some of the most notable show windows our industry has to offer.
First stop was Bloomingdale's and its ode to the Chinese New Year, “Gung Hay Fat Choy.” It was an acknowledgement of an important holiday in our increasingly patchwork society, and also recognition of Chinese culture. It’s the year of the snake, so a serpentine figure graphically winded itself through the bank of Lexington Avenue windows framed with traditional Chinese red and gold.
Buoyed by the crisp winter air and Bloomingdale's creativite spirit, I doubled back to Saks Fifth Avenue to see winter white spheres subtly framing fashion statements by the likes of Alexander McQueen.
More winter warmth poured through the window glass at Louis Vuitton, a burst of color. There's nothing like a shot of yellow on a cold stormy day to brighten the soul. And, of course, Bergdorf Goodman was not to be outdone. What's more comforting than curling up with a great book on a snowy February afternoon? Bergdorf's windows were a celebration of literary classics, from Kafka to Dickens, as images of “The Metamorphosis” and “A Tale of Two Cities” adorned Fifth Avenue. Talk about story telling in the show window.
So now, with my Manhattan ZIP code, I have a newfound affinity for winter. For all “The City” has to offer, from Broadway and Museum Mile, to the fantastic post-holiday windows, I have one thing to say, “Let it snow.”