Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map

The walk described here is based on a series of posts relating to the New York of Auntie Mame (see related posts following). I took the walk myself over several days, rather than all at once. I consider the walk as a series of experiences. Trying to enjoy Macy's, Times Square, the Algonquin, stores along Fifth Avenue, the Plaza Hotel and the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis in the same day would be too daunting and exhausting. And expensive.

I'm already thinking about returning to the St. Regis.

This walk serves as a companion to the Walk in Turtle Bay that includes 3 Beekman Place, the fictional home of Mame Dennis. The walk also intersects with other themed walks such as the New York of Raymond Hood, Architect and Fifth Avenue and the High Road to Taos: Mabel Dodge, Georgia O'Keeffe, and New York City.



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The walk is approximately 1.6 miles. What I consider Classic New York is more vast than this walk. It would include Tiffany's, for example, but I'm saving a visit there for when I write about You Know Who. Also, MY Classic New York includes free things and cheap things and just the sheer joy of strolling.

See related posts:
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Image: at 59th and Fifth Ave. Walking Off the Big Apple. April 2008.

Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April

The "magic of Macy's" is normally wrapped up in the holiday season. Immortalized in pop culture with the movie, Miracle of 34th Street, the Thanksgiving Day Parade, and for NPR listeners, with David Sedaris' wicked experiences as Crumpet the Elf in his "Santaland Diaries," Macy's department store on Herald Square attracts hordes of shoppers beyond the tinseled season. For New Yorkers, it's a common place to shop.

Mame Dennis, making ends meet following the crash of the 1929 stock market, sells roller-skates in Macy's toy department, the place where she meets her future southern husband. Walking in Mame's steps, I visited Macy's yesterday afternoon.

The Herald Square flagship, the largest department store in the world, features nine floors sprawled over two connecting buildings on 7th Avenue and Broadway and accessible by elevators and a vintage wooden escalator system. I gradually made my way up the chunky noisy escalator to the 8th Floor, home to the seasonal Santa Land and current seasonal merchandise. Finding not much happening in Santa Land, of course, I found it touching, if not surreal, to see swimsuits in the adjoining room.

For a little off-season fun, listen to excerpts from Sedaris' "Santaland Diaries," originally broadcast in 1992, at the NPR site here.

Part of a series of posts relating to The Classic New York of Mame Dennis.

Images: Herald Square and Swimsuit in Santa Land. Walking Off the Big Apple. April 9, 2008.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Classic New York: Henri Bendel

After leaving the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis, making my way back through the lobby and into the sunshine of 55th Street, sunglasses back on, I couldn't recollect if I had spent twenty minutes in the bar or over an hour, most likely a magic time distortion brought on by the merry old soul in Parrish's mural. Whatever time it was, it was no time to go home and walk the dogs. Flushed from a merry bar conversation, I decided it was time to shop.

Mame Dennis, for one of her short stints in the real world, modeled tea dresses for Henri Bendel's store. After "an ugly contretemps" in which a rich old man pinched her in the rear and she said something back, M. Bendel let her go, offering her the advice that the best career for her would be marriage. Walking along Fifth Avenue, I saw the Henri Bendel storefront, so I wandered in to get a look.

After the indeterminate number of minutes or hours at the St. Regis bar, I proved a likely candidate to buy the first thing any one of the seemingly thousands of makeup specialists at Henri Bendel would try to sell me. I had barely gotten in the front door when a nice man held out a lipstick sample for me to try. Thinking I probably needed lipstick after quaffing the "Red Snapper," but certainly not rouge, as my cheeks, nose, and eyes were already aflame, I sat in a chair and let the makeup specialist paint my lips with an appropriately subdued cinnamon color and then a touch of lip glacé. When speaking to me, the expert, like all the good ones in makeup land, balanced restrained flattery with the ever-so-slight suggestion that I would look much better if I continued to sit there and try on more things before I pulled out my wallet.

Carrying my little brown and white striped Henry Bendel bag with the lipstick and gloss wrapped inside, I made my way through the onslaught of the ensuing makeup expert gauntlet, ambushed by perfumes and a special bottled water meant to cleanse my face. It was not at all unpleasant, but upon eyeing the fabulously colorful Chanel display on the second floor, I rushed up the stairs to higher and safer ground.

The visual culture of Henri Bendel is splendid - the famous Lalique windows overlooking Fifth Ave, the colorful handbags and cashmere sweaters in bright seasonal colors, and alcoves of even more perfume bottles. Close to my heart, a branch of the Chocolate Bar occupies an atrium on the third floor. After buying a caramel and a brownie to take home, I decided the proverbial clock was ticking on this day in old New York, and I needed to get back to the Village before the enchanted fairy dust dissolved in the perfumed air.

Website for Henri Bendel.

Image: Window, with Whitney Biennial 2008 promo and pink handbag, Henri Bendel, 712 Fifth Avenue. New York.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Attention, Soho Shoppers

There's a special on the block on Broadway between Prince and Spring.

This afternoon, after raking through the closet, I decided it was time for a little early spring clothes shopping. Walking into the bright sunshine and down Broadway, I'm always a little stunned by the shopping hordes. After spending a long time by myself indoors, the mass of people on New York streets makes me think that something out of the ordinary has taken place. "What's going on?", I sometimes ask myself. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary, just the circumstances of my life now plopped down in the midst of one of the world's shopping meccas.

I'm an anxious shopper. I usually pick one store along a favorite stretch of Broadway, find several items that I think I can live with, and then turn around and go home. Late March is tricky for the seasonal transition, so I selected a few cashmere sweaters in pastel colors and called it a day.

Many of the women out on the streets were still wearing jeans stuffed into their fur-lined boots. The overall effect, and it's been like this for years, is that the most fashionable New York women dress like Davy Crockett, king of the wild countree-ee-ee.

(See also the popular post from the Christmas season, Shopping in SoHo Without Euros, for my list of shopping favorites.)

Tomorrow, follow along as I shop for party snacks, beverages, and flowers, and the behind-the-scenes preparations for 300 out-of-town visitors. A regular Mrs. Dalloway (site map by E.K. Sparks, Clemson University, October 2002), I am.

Wee Willy WOTBA's Downtown Chocolate Walk

Yesterday was the colonel's birthday, so he asked me to go over to Bruno Bakery and buy a couple of cakes for an impromptu celebration. It's a hard job, but someone's got to pick out the chocolate cakes. Now, facing the prospect of Valentines Day, I must once again go back into the world and find chocolate candy. Gee, life's tough. Fortunately, chocolate has known health benefits, so I can rationalize any purchase. Buying a little chocolate also helps the economy by boosting consumer "sentiment."

I first devised this self-guided chocolate walk for visiting friends who expressed interest in such a thing. I sent them to chocolate meccas in SoHo - Vosges, Mariebelle, and Kee's, stores within just a few blocks of one another. Now I feel compelled to broaden the walk to include Jacques Torres, Chocolate Bar, and a few pastry shops that also feature quality chocolates. I'm also partial to the very elegant La Maison du Chocolat up on Madison, but that's too far off my personal grid.


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Shopping for Valentines Day should also include a roundup of chocolate-covered strawberries, red velvet cakes, a big bouquet of red roses, and a bag of those little hearts with sayings on them. Greeting cards may be involved. After festively decorating the dining room table with these items, you've pretty much taken care of your own needs and could consider what to get for anyone else.

Image: Inside a case at Bruno Bakery (musical pleasures await at the website), LaGuardia Place. February 2008.

The Foodie Blocks of Bleecker Street, and a Map

I feel like such an enabler. Some people come to this website seeking help on walking to lose weight, and I stick up pictures of food in their face. I should explain.

Bleecker Street, just a few steps out my door, is a well-recognized food haven for many visitors and New Yorkers. I am of the opinion, however, that beautiful food, made locally by people who are trained in tradition, adds to the quality of life. In an earlier post, I extolled the virtues of handmade gelato. The people who make my favorite gelato consider themselves true artists. A sense of artistry is part of the best culinary traditions, just as many craft traditions maintain the standards of beauty that mass production forfeits.


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I often visit the food blocks of Bleecker just to pick up the lasagne at Murray's, the bread at Amy's or the pignoli cookies at Rocco's. Even during the times when I'm shopping at Pet Central acquiring the gourmet items for Snoopy and Lassie (not their real names), I enjoy looking at the windows of these food establishments. Food can look beautiful, and I don't have to eat anything.

Shopping in SoHo Without Euros

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I have completed most of my holiday shopping now, and efficiently I might add, finding everything I needed at two museum shops and the stores under the starry firmament of Grand Central Station.

As I live near SoHo and enjoy roaming its cobbled streets and glancing at its cast-iron facades, I thought I'd wrap up the holiday shopping there. I decided to play the poor rough street urchin and unfurl my fingerless gloves to see what a weakened dollar or two might bring home for holiday cheer. I have no Euros, sadly, and thus must look puppy-eyed and longing at the consumer sports of the visitors, thems in their fancy Marc Jacobs clothes.

So, yesterday, after straightening the flowers on my hat and rubbing the soot off my face, I bid farewell to the guv and mutts and took to the cobblestone streets south of Houston to search for affordable trinkets and plum pudding for me in-laws.

While I pressed my nose against the window pane of many a store I dared not enter, I visited several places for affordable gifts and warm places to get out of the cold and alight for some light refreshment.

I frequent these places at other times of the year, so what follows, in no particular order, is my personal itinerary for a typical day in SoHo. No clothing stores on this list, as I've already purchased those items elsewhere.

Vesuvio Bakery (160 Prince St.): always, always. Eggs, toast, bacon, and the waitress calls me "Bubbe."
Pearl River (477 Broadway) for strings of light, novelty lamps, sushi plates, lipstick cases.
MoMA Design Store (81 Spring St.): coffee cups, refrigerator magnets, pre-wrapped gifts, cute measuring tape.
Kate's Paperie (72 Spring St.): gift wrap, calendars.
Joe at Alessi (130 Greene St.): a hit of espresso, and a bag of Vienna Roast to take home.
Taschen (107 Greene St.): for Taschen books.
SoHo Park (62 Prince St.): my standard burger and brew break.
Vosges (132 Spring St.): RedFire chocolate bars.
Apple Store (103 Prince St.): for better earphones, and just to watch everyone else try out IPods. Walking Off the Big Apple is produced on a MacBook, by the way, the cool one in black.
Vintage NYC (482 Broome St.): a bottle of wine to take home and a glass at the wine bar.

"So, 'twas a good day, guv," I said when I returned home. "I ain't complainin'."

Walking to the Strand Bookstore

After writing the previous post and contemplating an alternative life as a recluse, I became despondent for three minutes and so had to leave the apartment to walk anywhere or somewhere. The somewhere turned out to be the Strand bookstore, a brilliant spontaneous choice, if I may say so myself, as I think the store is the center of civilized life below 14th St. (12th @ Broadway).

While browsing the Strand today, I understood better why I like to get out of the apartment in the first place and why I like to shop for books at a bookstore more than I do online. While I'm in a bookstore I'm able to scan the shelves for a particular book, but my eye frequently lands on some treasure that I would never have discovered otherwise. This is especially the case for used or out-of-print books. The same principal applies, of course, to browsing the shelves in the library. Online bookstores don't know me, and when their software sends up the "if you enjoy this, then you will like this other book also," I often think, "Hell, no."

After spending most of the time in the New York section, I picked up a used paperback copy of New York Days by Willie Morris, a book I wanted to find. Near the Morris book I saw a used copy of The Street Where the Heart Lies by Ludwig Bemelmans. The author and illustrator may have spent most of his life in New York, famously drawing and writing Madeline on the back side of menus at Pete's Tavern nearby, but the novel I found was about Paris and should have been properly filed under regular fiction. Life offline comes with charm and serendipity, but maybe this was also the doing of a cunning book store clerk, far wiser than consumer software, who knew someone like me would find it and take the book home.