Sunday, July 13, 2008
In need of a friend
I saw this fellow as I was criss crossing through Greenwich village and West village. He was patiently waiting for his owner to return, who I presumed was picking up something from the nearby bakery or grocery store. The neighbourhood was filled with owners walking their dogs, playing with them. They all appeared to be the working kind, I wondered how they took care of their pets during the day. Sigh! I could do with some company and love and affection from a four feeted, tail wagging, adoring eyed friend...
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Shopping Pilgrimage, NY
"So, did you travel around when you were in New York? "
Me : "well, you know, my trip gets so hectic with work and meeting friends, there's hardly time to plan... "
"So what do you do then on weekends?"
Me: "ah well... just exploring neighbourhoods... and walking around... and well, (sheepishly) shopping!"
Ok -I confess! It has been all about shopping and shopping, that I have hardly bothered even thinking about stepping outside and exploring new places. I have been to New York twice, and both times, it has been like a trip to the Mecca of fashion. I am almost possessed to make sure I have seen, tried, shopped (where I can) and window shopped all that I can. Well, shopping is another flavor to experience a city by. And definitely, shopping in New York has been an experience.
The city is all about brands -Gucci, Prada, Dolce Gabana, Ralph Lauren, and their slightly smaller cousins - Kenneth Cole, Nine west, Aldo, Sephora, Ann Taylor. I am not a brand conscious person myself, and pride myself on several (actually I should say mostly) "brand-less" great "buys". But there is that kick to be able to indulge in an expensive brand without worrying about the economics. Once in a while, instead of looking at the price tag and walking away, you want to say "what the hell, I like it, I want it, so I am going to get it". I love it! (Of course, this didn't apply to Saks or the ralph lauren's where I ended up doing what any sel-respecting shopper would do - take an "I've been to Saks" photo!)
And most importantly, I just love the variety available in terms, of sizes, cuts, fits... it is amazing what they can do to a simple white blouse! And the idea that my size falls into a more "average" range and the fact that I can find a beautiful fit in almost any shop I walk into most often makes up for the relatively expensive price tags.
There is shopping. Then there is this window shopping. Window shopping is a lot more fun, simply because there is no pressure to find something immediately. And of course, the real twist is that you should leave room for the chance that you may actually buy something. Setting out with a clear mindset of "not to buy" could be a damper. Anyways, so while there was shopping, there was also window shopping.
On one weekend in my last trip, I was in West Village. The idea was to window shop and explore the neighbourhood. I kept getting drawn into these quaint boutiques dealing in body oils and perfumes and the likes. Just losing yourself in the heady mix of fragrance in these places is amazing. And the shop attendants, donned in aprons introduce you into an unknown world of self indulgence as if they themselves were the creators of each of these concoctions.
The last one I entered was Sabon. Dim-lit, and designed with an antique touch, lined with bottles of body lotions, bathing salts and hand made soap. As soon as I entered, the person in charge asked me if I wanted a hand wash? They were offering free samples of bathing salt for a hand wash. I was then offered an array of flavors to choose from. He explains "oh, that is the patchoulli vanilla lavender, my personal favorite. I usually don't prefer vanilla myself. But just a touch of lavender balances the sweetness", "smell this, don't you love it?", "and this just has a subtle nutmeggy fragrance", and then proceeds to paint a picture of how each would work wonders. The hand wash was followed with matching lotions and of course flattery on how soft my hands now felt. I almost swooned at the indulgent sales pitch I had, and yes, there is a vanilla lavender body creme sitting on my dresser.
Just as much as this self-pandering variety of shopping can be an experience, so can hunting in smaller localities and tucked-in-a-corner-shop be. Last year, I checked out a sunday market right in the middle of 7th av. With stalls selling crepes, kashmiri carpets, the best of Dolce Gabana handbags for $20 and bohemeian jewellery, it almost reminded me of the fairs (the annual shilparamam sale in Hyderabad, the Linking road or Colaba Causeway market in Mumbai, Panthean road/Beasant Nagar beach Chennai for the best cotton there is and pondy bazaar in Chennai) back in India. And of course, there was also an half a day escapade to China Town, for hand bags and stone studded rings that we ended up falling in love with.
Now back at home, even as I advise my friend on where she can order stuff from or ask her brother to pick it up for her, I check myself. I realize it isn't all about just buying and owning things. The best of shopping is going through the whole process of checking out the array of options, mentally building images of what you want, letting the object of desire call out to you and grow on you, and ultimately allowing yourself to be seduced into the buy.
Me : "well, you know, my trip gets so hectic with work and meeting friends, there's hardly time to plan... "
"So what do you do then on weekends?"
Me: "ah well... just exploring neighbourhoods... and walking around... and well, (sheepishly) shopping!"
Ok -I confess! It has been all about shopping and shopping, that I have hardly bothered even thinking about stepping outside and exploring new places. I have been to New York twice, and both times, it has been like a trip to the Mecca of fashion. I am almost possessed to make sure I have seen, tried, shopped (where I can) and window shopped all that I can. Well, shopping is another flavor to experience a city by. And definitely, shopping in New York has been an experience.
The city is all about brands -Gucci, Prada, Dolce Gabana, Ralph Lauren, and their slightly smaller cousins - Kenneth Cole, Nine west, Aldo, Sephora, Ann Taylor. I am not a brand conscious person myself, and pride myself on several (actually I should say mostly) "brand-less" great "buys". But there is that kick to be able to indulge in an expensive brand without worrying about the economics. Once in a while, instead of looking at the price tag and walking away, you want to say "what the hell, I like it, I want it, so I am going to get it". I love it! (Of course, this didn't apply to Saks or the ralph lauren's where I ended up doing what any sel-respecting shopper would do - take an "I've been to Saks" photo!)
Yes! We can't stop shopping.
And most importantly, I just love the variety available in terms, of sizes, cuts, fits... it is amazing what they can do to a simple white blouse! And the idea that my size falls into a more "average" range and the fact that I can find a beautiful fit in almost any shop I walk into most often makes up for the relatively expensive price tags.
A Ralph Lauren window display in West Village
There is shopping. Then there is this window shopping. Window shopping is a lot more fun, simply because there is no pressure to find something immediately. And of course, the real twist is that you should leave room for the chance that you may actually buy something. Setting out with a clear mindset of "not to buy" could be a damper. Anyways, so while there was shopping, there was also window shopping.
Random window displays in West Village
On one weekend in my last trip, I was in West Village. The idea was to window shop and explore the neighbourhood. I kept getting drawn into these quaint boutiques dealing in body oils and perfumes and the likes. Just losing yourself in the heady mix of fragrance in these places is amazing. And the shop attendants, donned in aprons introduce you into an unknown world of self indulgence as if they themselves were the creators of each of these concoctions.
The last one I entered was Sabon. Dim-lit, and designed with an antique touch, lined with bottles of body lotions, bathing salts and hand made soap. As soon as I entered, the person in charge asked me if I wanted a hand wash? They were offering free samples of bathing salt for a hand wash. I was then offered an array of flavors to choose from. He explains "oh, that is the patchoulli vanilla lavender, my personal favorite. I usually don't prefer vanilla myself. But just a touch of lavender balances the sweetness", "smell this, don't you love it?", "and this just has a subtle nutmeggy fragrance", and then proceeds to paint a picture of how each would work wonders. The hand wash was followed with matching lotions and of course flattery on how soft my hands now felt. I almost swooned at the indulgent sales pitch I had, and yes, there is a vanilla lavender body creme sitting on my dresser.
Inside Sabon
Just as much as this self-pandering variety of shopping can be an experience, so can hunting in smaller localities and tucked-in-a-corner-shop be. Last year, I checked out a sunday market right in the middle of 7th av. With stalls selling crepes, kashmiri carpets, the best of Dolce Gabana handbags for $20 and bohemeian jewellery, it almost reminded me of the fairs (the annual shilparamam sale in Hyderabad, the Linking road or Colaba Causeway market in Mumbai, Panthean road/Beasant Nagar beach Chennai for the best cotton there is and pondy bazaar in Chennai) back in India. And of course, there was also an half a day escapade to China Town, for hand bags and stone studded rings that we ended up falling in love with.
The sunday market on 7th Av
Now back at home, even as I advise my friend on where she can order stuff from or ask her brother to pick it up for her, I check myself. I realize it isn't all about just buying and owning things. The best of shopping is going through the whole process of checking out the array of options, mentally building images of what you want, letting the object of desire call out to you and grow on you, and ultimately allowing yourself to be seduced into the buy.
A flower that caught my eye, West Village
Sunday, June 01, 2008
New Place, New Home, New Beginnings
Imagine altering your whole life to be in a place you fell in love with. A holiday that keeps you longing to go back, an opportune house that comes up for sale - and lo and behold, you have moved lock stock and barrel to start a new life as a wine maker or a teacher. The concept is thoroughly fascinating. Its like inventing a new life for yourself.
I first fell in love with the idea when I saw the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun". It is one of those movies that make you wish "if I could do something like that". In this movie, recent divorcee (portrayed by Diane Lane) is pushed into a trip to Tuscany by her friend. During the trip, Diane is led astray by a house she sees, and on a whim buys it. The rest of the movie is about her discovering Tuscany, and making a new house and life for herself. Beautiful. Though the movie has a run-on-the-mill end, I loved it. The movie is based on a book "Under the Tuscan Sun" by Frances Mayes, which is about a couple who move to Tuscany. I haven't managed to grab a copy of it yet, but its on my travel reading list!
Peter Mayle's 'A year in Provence' is about his first twelve months in Provence after he and his wife and two dogs make the move to the little town, having fallen in love with it during their vacations there. He says "We had been there (Provence) before, always desperate for our ration of two or three weeks of true heat and sharp light. Always when we left, with peeling noses and regret we promised ourselves that one day, we would live here. And now, somehow to our surprise we had done it. We had bought a house, taken French lessons, and aid our goodbyes, shipped over our two dogs and become foreigners." Particularly enjoyable is his style of writing. Especially, where he describes the idiosyncrasies of the French, he brings out the humour with such indulgence; in a way one would tease an old friend. Though, on second thought he was not as considerate about the English.
In this NYTIMES article,"Guatemala as muse and a base for a writer" authoress Joyce Maynard talks about how she buys a second home in Guatamela. She spends four months in a year in this place writing, conducting her workshops and of course enjoying the country. The article says she had no intention of owning a home in Guatemala when she set out to travel there seven years ago with her daughter, Audrey, who was studying Spanish in a Guatemalan school. On her stone patio one recent morning, Ms. Maynard, recalled the conversation that changed the course of her life. “I said, ‘I so envy you, Aud, for getting to be here and study your Spanish,’ and she said, ‘What’s stopping you, Mama?’ ” Dramatic pause. “And I realized, ‘Nothing!’ ” She had been divorced for over a decade. The youngest of her three children, Will, had just finished high school. Her older son, Charlie, was in college. Her work as a writer required only a laptop. She was supposed to be traveling on to Hawaii, but cashed in her ticket and rented a house for eight months. The longer she stayed, the more certain she became that she had stumbled on the next chapter of her life story.
Though ofcourse, all the romaticism in starting a new life is somewhat curbed by the practicalities of the cost involved. This seems to restrict such fantasies to the more privilged. But then there are those bohemnian travellers out there who take a long break - six months, a year or 2, move to a new country, hire an apartment, settle to do anything - waiting on tables, teaching, being shop attendants - just to experience a life in a new place, a new country. This is as romantic as moving entirely to new place - and possibly a more practicable option for some of us. Maybe someday ... We all dream on...
I first fell in love with the idea when I saw the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun". It is one of those movies that make you wish "if I could do something like that". In this movie, recent divorcee (portrayed by Diane Lane) is pushed into a trip to Tuscany by her friend. During the trip, Diane is led astray by a house she sees, and on a whim buys it. The rest of the movie is about her discovering Tuscany, and making a new house and life for herself. Beautiful. Though the movie has a run-on-the-mill end, I loved it. The movie is based on a book "Under the Tuscan Sun" by Frances Mayes, which is about a couple who move to Tuscany. I haven't managed to grab a copy of it yet, but its on my travel reading list!
Peter Mayle's 'A year in Provence' is about his first twelve months in Provence after he and his wife and two dogs make the move to the little town, having fallen in love with it during their vacations there. He says "We had been there (Provence) before, always desperate for our ration of two or three weeks of true heat and sharp light. Always when we left, with peeling noses and regret we promised ourselves that one day, we would live here. And now, somehow to our surprise we had done it. We had bought a house, taken French lessons, and aid our goodbyes, shipped over our two dogs and become foreigners." Particularly enjoyable is his style of writing. Especially, where he describes the idiosyncrasies of the French, he brings out the humour with such indulgence; in a way one would tease an old friend. Though, on second thought he was not as considerate about the English.
In this NYTIMES article,"Guatemala as muse and a base for a writer" authoress Joyce Maynard talks about how she buys a second home in Guatamela. She spends four months in a year in this place writing, conducting her workshops and of course enjoying the country. The article says she had no intention of owning a home in Guatemala when she set out to travel there seven years ago with her daughter, Audrey, who was studying Spanish in a Guatemalan school. On her stone patio one recent morning, Ms. Maynard, recalled the conversation that changed the course of her life. “I said, ‘I so envy you, Aud, for getting to be here and study your Spanish,’ and she said, ‘What’s stopping you, Mama?’ ” Dramatic pause. “And I realized, ‘Nothing!’ ” She had been divorced for over a decade. The youngest of her three children, Will, had just finished high school. Her older son, Charlie, was in college. Her work as a writer required only a laptop. She was supposed to be traveling on to Hawaii, but cashed in her ticket and rented a house for eight months. The longer she stayed, the more certain she became that she had stumbled on the next chapter of her life story.
Though ofcourse, all the romaticism in starting a new life is somewhat curbed by the practicalities of the cost involved. This seems to restrict such fantasies to the more privilged. But then there are those bohemnian travellers out there who take a long break - six months, a year or 2, move to a new country, hire an apartment, settle to do anything - waiting on tables, teaching, being shop attendants - just to experience a life in a new place, a new country. This is as romantic as moving entirely to new place - and possibly a more practicable option for some of us. Maybe someday ... We all dream on...
Sunday, May 18, 2008
"Mishandled"
Blue, black, black, black, black ... and yet another black bag on the conveyer belt with no signs of wine ... I had been standing there for more than twenty minutes and was going through my usual post flying trauma of "will it or will it not come?". It never seems to matter what kind of bags I carry or whether I am the first to check it in - my bags are usually the last to arrive. And, by the time it appears, I've almost decided that it is lost, and am shedding invisible tears for my preciously hand picked pieces of colthing and shoes (the only valuables I usually carry and mean more than the money that got them).
We had landed some 30 minutes back, and my bags hadn't yet arrived. I was absently observing to myself "Did you know that a vast majority of the luggage is black? Wine is proving to be an infinitely cooler choice". Another 10 minutes .... and slowly there were whispers.. "Bags mishandled". "problems in heathrow". What seemed like half the plane was still around me, how could so many bags be "mishandled". Was this some kind of a joke?
Apparently not. Or rather a poor one if it was. BA had finally managed to do what seems usually unimaginable and set a new record that night. They had left behind luggages of 80 people. But, one thing that worked in their favor seemed to be the time. Landing at early morning 2 o clock, after a 17 hour flight seemed to have mellowed down people. Some were ranting that "BA is known for this". One lady actually said that this was the second time it happened to her, and last time she didnt get her bags back. Why she flew BA again, i couldnt fathom! But people were definitely bonding over there mishap.
Personally, at 2 o clock, the whole thing just seemed unreal. Also, I seemed to have become a veteran at losing things (cell phone, luggage - this is my third major luggage incident in last five years), that my acceptance levels have risen up considerable. And I swear, my new Kenneth cole shoes and Sephora makeup didn't race through my eyes. But thankfully for me, my bags did arrive two days later. But for those who didn't know (like me), BA has the highest rate of mishandled bags - so be prepared!!!
PS: Yes. BA does have highest rate of mishandled bags. Though they have a decent enough system for tracking your bags. Only crib is that, for a long time, the status was just "tracking", it would have been better if it had said "identified. in london. waiting for shipping details"!
We had landed some 30 minutes back, and my bags hadn't yet arrived. I was absently observing to myself "Did you know that a vast majority of the luggage is black? Wine is proving to be an infinitely cooler choice". Another 10 minutes .... and slowly there were whispers.. "Bags mishandled". "problems in heathrow". What seemed like half the plane was still around me, how could so many bags be "mishandled". Was this some kind of a joke?
Apparently not. Or rather a poor one if it was. BA had finally managed to do what seems usually unimaginable and set a new record that night. They had left behind luggages of 80 people. But, one thing that worked in their favor seemed to be the time. Landing at early morning 2 o clock, after a 17 hour flight seemed to have mellowed down people. Some were ranting that "BA is known for this". One lady actually said that this was the second time it happened to her, and last time she didnt get her bags back. Why she flew BA again, i couldnt fathom! But people were definitely bonding over there mishap.
Personally, at 2 o clock, the whole thing just seemed unreal. Also, I seemed to have become a veteran at losing things (cell phone, luggage - this is my third major luggage incident in last five years), that my acceptance levels have risen up considerable. And I swear, my new Kenneth cole shoes and Sephora makeup didn't race through my eyes. But thankfully for me, my bags did arrive two days later. But for those who didn't know (like me), BA has the highest rate of mishandled bags - so be prepared!!!
PS: Yes. BA does have highest rate of mishandled bags. Though they have a decent enough system for tracking your bags. Only crib is that, for a long time, the status was just "tracking", it would have been better if it had said "identified. in london. waiting for shipping details"!
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