so the jet lag descends once more – and in 82 degree heat with a slight breeze through the slightly ajar window and a plethora of nice things indoors – it wasn’t actually as bad as we thought it Might Be.
of course we Took to Bed (naturally) with a stack of glossies, a pot of P G Tips (with a surprisingly good Meyer lemon), a notebook (moleskine 139, in case you’re keeping count) and the thrilling and naughty and Deeply Elegant (shades of palest cream and taupe and beige with a camel throw) autobiography of a certain Mr. Bill Blass.
we found the Bill Blass at housing works bookstore this morning (we showed up to therapy, alas our therapist didn’t – clearly “Away for August means Back Post Labor Day” – so we headed to our secondary therapy – a bookshop – instead – we are Never disappointed for long).
along with the Bill Blass was a meditation book (of the Buddhist variety but widely spiritual and helpful and useful no matter which side of the debate on Matters of the Spirit you’re on, we believe) and – Quelle Joy! – some abandoned flyers and bookmarks were tucked inside.
the ephemera must have been pre-1999 (yes, we just heard the opening guitar strains too, darlings) as the bookmark didn’t have a 212 on the phone number, the one from Colorado had “Internet” next to the URL (and nobody did that after 1999) and we couldn’t find a listing for Polyfinger Warehouse (but do tell us if you’ve been).
a blast from the past.
the contents of the book gave us a nice soothing mid-jet-lag glow.
we used to read this particular mediation book at GB’s apartment in Los Angeles when we looked after Z (a fine example of a cornish rex) so it brought back lovely memories.
despite the memories and the glow and the tiredness we needed to venture forth into the world – we headed uptown – and met NmP for supper.
but this gave us a jolt of manhattan-ness as we passed through, en route.
almost looks as though we drifted, soignee-style, through 1958, no?
maybe we did……..
manhattan is a mysterious place.