Blink and you'll miss it

Is there anything shorter than a weekend?

This past weekend in New York was highly anticipated.

All five boroughs (and beyond) are basically crawling to Memorial Day. I can taste the Summer Fridays and 9 PM sunsets. It’s been a long, cold spring, full of rainy Saturdays and cloudy Sundays. I’ve had to wear a jacket far longer than I’ve liked. Enough was enough.

On Friday night, I was itching to just get out of the house for a little bit, nothing crazy. I met my friends Grace and Gabby out at Bar Snack, where we were blessed with a table on the sidewalk and got Woodford Reserve (bourbon) confused with Wölffer Estate (wine). I had a pickled mezcal margarita which was interesting, another drink with approximately 100g of sugar, and a martini that I did not need, before retiring home at 9:45 PM, with a pit stop at McDonald’s along the way.

Saturday, my friends and I had plans to meet at Maiden Lane for some drinking in the afternoon—something I don’t usually love to do, but the weather was 78 and sunny for the first time all year, and I was looking forward to soaking it all up. I had stopped by Brooke Callahan’s pop-up on Thursday night and got this new skirt that I wanted to wear:

I sat in Tompkins for a little so that I could get through some more of American Psycho, a book that I’m enjoying a lot but is a quest to get through, before heading up to Maiden Lane to grab a table outside. Getting a table at a place like that on a day like Saturday takes strong attention skills, commitment, stealth, and most importantly, luck. As soon as I got there some people were leaving, so I camped out with a cider and staged the chairs next to me to make it seem like my friends were already there before the fun really got started. A real bonus of the afternoon was that there was a nearby corgi meet-up.

I headed home in the early evening because I had a big night ahead. My friend Nicholson lives a glamorous life, and he invited me as his plus-one to the Gucci Cruise after party. Obviously, this was an outfit challenge that I felt amply underprepared for, until I remembered that if it was a room with me, Alix Earle, and Devon Lee Carlson, I could wear whatever I want because ain’t nobody lookin’. I also remembered that I got one of the best bags at the Kering sample sale last year, and that a party that started at 11:30 wasn’t exactly a fashion show.

I ended up wearing a vintage slip dress that I had gotten at Stella Dallas when I first moved to the city and these Favorite Daughter heels that look like they could be Saint Laurent. I put eyeliner around my eyes and then rubbed them with my fingers, slicked my hair back, and told myself that I couldn’t be weird to Camille Rowe if I saw her (which I did, 30 seconds after walking in) before meeting Nicholson at our favorite neighborhood bar, Treasure Club.

The Gucci party was very exciting. I’m still on the hunt for the flash photography pictures of myself dancing with Alix Earle in the basement of the mansion they converted into a nightclub, so if you see them, send them to me. It was an odd (positive) feeling to be around people I look up to so much—Camille, Devon Lee Carlson, Gabriette, etc., and realize that we’re all just gals at the same Gucci party. Some more invited than others…

Nicholson and I always have a “ki”, but Saturday night was particularly hilarious. We ran around in towels that had Gucci Mansion embroidery that we stole from the Gucci gym, drinking champagne, me acting as his shadow as he mingled with his comrades in arts. After talking to his boss for too long and realizing I had a towel tied around my waist, I decided that this Downtown Girl was ready to leave her Uptown fairytale for the night. I tried to bring the towel home but security acted like I was trying to make out like a bandit with some Gucci jewels or something and demanded it back. I’m just glad that didn’t happen in front of Tom Brady.

I knew Sunday morning was going to be a little bit rough, but the risk was worth the reward of the night before. I had also forgotten how miserable being hungover can be when it’s above 80 degrees and the sun is beating down on you relentlessly. I had felt as though my outside time for the weekend had been maxed out on Saturday, and after putzing around Trader Joe’s without any clear path or direction, I planted myself on the couch, tried to find those pics of me and my new friend Alix, and binged the first season of Summer House.

Monday, as you’re reading this, is basically Summer Eve. This entire week is. We’re 7 short days from the official start of the best time to be in New York, the best time to be on the East Coast, and the best time to be a young gal in your 20s, having a good time that falls somewhere in the middle of the Hannah Horvath to Carrie Bradshaw scheme. Sometimes it feels like the days are too long (especially on a day like I’m having), but the weekends will give you whiplash.

Let me know if anyone has anything specific they’d like to read here this summer. I’ll always keep you abreast on what to do, see, eat, drink…wear…during this beautiful time of year.