I am impressed when it gets this cold. True cold still feels foreign.
Today was one of those days where I kept making loud breathing noises outside that made Vince look at me and say, Are you alright? I was. Very cold, but fine. Just impressed.
We walked to the subway, hopped on the welcome (warm) train, got off at Rockefeller Center. Mission: Saks Fifth Avenue. I can't say that I have ever set foot inside. But Vince has, last year, when he escorted my mother to buy my father's supply of Penhaligon's Blenheim Bouquet after shave balm and Eau de Toilette. My father is punctilious in his grooming habits. It is unavailable in South Africa and will fly to Cape Town with me soon.
We surfaced near the 70 foot Christmas tree, a crush of becoated tourists and many cops keeping 50th Street clear for a shoot. I had called ahead and the smart package was waiting for us, courtesy of Edison at the Penhaligon's Counter. I hope customs in Johannesburg does not have scent beagles.
Stopped in the middle of Fifth Avenue to try and shoot St Patrick's Cathedral from cab level, but was chicken in the face of five lanes of traffic. I got no spires.
But I did get hot chestnuts on 50th and 6th Avenue. I peeled them on the subway platform, back under the city, waiting for the Brooklyn-bound F.
Dinner? Fondue of course.
Please note the expression of rapture in the background, above.