If you follow me on Twitter you might have seen me lamenting recently that I ruined not one but THREE t-shirts in the dryer. All three were accidents – we have a laundry room in our building so when I do laundry I do a tonne of it at once to save myself time and effort (walking up and down the stairs is a pain, doncha know). Obviously I wasn’t paying a lot of attention (duh) because I had set the shirts aside for hand washing and they ended up in the bag with everything else. I was particularly pissed when I realised my brand-new, worn-once 100% linen tee from Madewell had gone through spinner. Ouch.

Thankfully, I found a life hack that means all those ruined 100% cotton and 100% linen shirts aren’t set for the rag bag. Watch and learn, friends. And next time, pay a little more attention when you’re sorting the laundry (that one is directed at me).

New York is an incredible city. The people, the colour, the noise (and there is a lot of noise) – it’s like living in a giant performance piece about pressurised city life. But it’s not all music and glamour. The thing with high density city living is…well…high density city living. To whit, here are some of my observations about the city I now call home.

1. New York City is dirty and dusty. The vast number of vehicles, the high rise buildings, the number of smokers…everything is covered in a layer of dirt. Not even a fine layer of dirt. A great honking thick layer.
1a. This means that when it rains, everything turns to gravy. Best not wear your favourite satin ballet flats today, sweetheart.
1b. This also means your nose will be full of dust and dirt. Remember that one time you went to a bush doof with your hippie friends and you blew big dirty boogers for 2 days afterwards? New York City…all the time.

2. There are dogs everywhere. Considering everyone lives in apartments – tiny apartments – I am continually blown away when I see people walking huge great danes or german shepherds down the street. Surely the dogs go crazy in your little one bedroom walk up?! Anyway, one wonderful side effect of dogs everywhere is dog waste everywhere. I’m not kidding when I say you need to keep your eyes down at all times, lest your foot connects with a steaming pile of last nights doggy chow. Also, that puddle you just stepped in isn’t water. This is one reason I don’t wear thongs in the city.

3. Another reason I don’t wear thongs is the toxic gutter slime. The gutters are always full of a delightful mishmash of garbage juice, water runoff, dog pee, city gravy, and whatever else is around. In winter these freeze over and become mini ice skating ponds. In the warmer months they turn fluorescent green. No word of a lie.

4. You walk everywhere. If somewhere is less than 2 subway stops, it’s a quick walk, even if that means 16 blocks. You will trade in all your ballet flats for converse and kicks because you can’t run errands all over town when your feet hurt (read: me). Not only that, but your lovely flats will get shredded and destroyed. This is no place to be precious about shoes. If you’re wearing fancy heels – take a cab.

5. The first few times you catch the subway, you will wonder if you need anti-nausea tablets for the violent rocking, or if you need to see a physio for the whiplash. The first time I took a B train and it flew from West 4th to 34th, I thought we were going to derail. Ditto the L train as it lurches under the East River. Now I barely notice it.

6. You need balls of steel for the roads here. Big balls if you want to drive. Huge balls if you want to ride a bike. The bulk of people on the roads here are cabbies or private drivers with big black SUVs – they smell fear and will eat you alive (or just honk you to death).

7. Women travel in packs of four. Perhaps this is a throwback to the Sex and the City days, or perhaps Sex and the City was actually an accurate representation, but women are usually in bars, at restaurants, and brunching in cafes at tables for four. I find it fascinating.

Have you been to New York? What other observations can you add?

Belvedere Castle in Central Park. Home of Belvedere Vodka (no it’s not…that’s just silly)

International Pillow Fight Day in Washington Square Park – always something happening in the hood

But which two days?!?!?!

For more New York awesomeness, you can follow me on Instagram

I’m sitting in a cafe that is blasting Radiohead. Definitely not my soundtrack of choice, but they have good tea and it’s close to home.

Sitting across from me is a model reading Sylvia Plath – The Bell Jar. She’s not an international supermodel, but I definitely recognise her from magazines and billboards. Next to her is a young woman reading a book called Incarnational Ministry, occasionally pausing to mark things on the page with her poised pen. In the corner an older lady and a young guy who have just met are discussing potential movie projects together, while the dude next to me is glued to his laptop, intermittently checking his iphone. To my left is an old guy holding court. He is one of those old school mafia guys, wearing wrap around tinted glasses and a leather jacket, a thicket of silver hair across his head, four HUGE gold rings – two on each hand, and a beautiful (and I suspect expensive) silk scarf draped around his neck. He is discussing the neighbourhood, his mother (god rest her soul), his friend’s love life, the lesbians next door. He has a deep and disarming chuckle. One of his companions has a high pitched Staten Island accent. Straight out of a movie.

Tourists come in and out, grabbing sandwiches, coffee, and soup. NYU students grab cheap meals to eat while studying, and entrepreneurs are plugged in to the cafe’s power supply to run their empires and conduct business meetings. The couple next to me are getting to know each other, asking questions, and completely engrossed in what the other is saying. The sun is streaming in through the windows, and even though it is only 6 degrees, it is starting to look and feel like spring.

NoHo. Bowery. Home.

Today’s desk

Today’s office

Hello, spring

I love a cheap beauty buy – when a $10 mascara does a better job than the $30 version, or the $6 lipstick is just as rad as the $40 dupe. You get this kind of smug feeling, right? Like…I look a million bucks, but it only cost me $50. I also love when you can get a $90+ beauty treatment for $20, like the haircut I got last week at the Aveda Institute. To steal a phrase my friend Ms. Critique, this is totally Stealth Wealth.

The Aveda Institute is as you expect from the name – it’s the Aveda beauty school. The students are learning how to do haircuts, colour, waxing, and facials, and they need real live guinea pigs. Now there are some things I wouldn’t let beginners do, like a brow wax, but I’m happy for a noob to give me a trim. Go to town, girlfriend.

Of course, for a $20 haircut there are some caveats. If you want a regular salon experience, this is not for you. Whilst I was enjoying my relaxing scalp massage from my lovely student hairdresser, there were two other students standing literally two feet from me talking about their raging Saturday night and how drunk they got. Not totally zen. You also get to enjoy blow back from the blow dry that’s happening next to you, the stations are that close together. Essentially, this is a classroom.

On the plus side, the teaching method leaves you feeling pretty confident. You go through what you want with the student, then a teacher comes over to confirm what you said and give any necessary instruction. As you’re being chopped, teachers are looking on. Once you’re done, a teacher comes to inspect the handiwork and make any necessary touch ups (my student didn’t need any help, bless her). And then before you head off you speak to the teacher again and fill out a form to give the thumbs up. It’s a really slow process, so clear your schedule. Just beware, the students are also taught the art of upselling – you will be escorted to the product unit and a basket will be thrust into your hands and filled with goodies. Which means it’s a good time to practice your polite thanks but no thanks.

The nitty gritty: Aveda Institute – 233 Spring St NY, NY (near the C, E, and 1)
$20 for a hair cut from a first year, $30 from a second year
Prices for all services are on their website

I figured a boring ‘here is my haircut’ photo was a bit dull, so I used a birthday happy snap instead. Don’t mind the laundry rack in the background. I like to keep it classy.

Something about moving that has been both fun and intimidating is decorating an apartment. We barely brought anything with us, save for my favourite cushion cover and three prints that we ironically bought from a street vendor here in New York earlier last year, so we essentially started from scratch. That meant we could do what we wanted with colour schemes, furniture, layout, art – but the thing with moving countries and starting over is it is bloody expensive.

Yes, every piece of furniture in our apartment is from Ikea. But I’m totally okay with that because I love our apartment. Our teeny tiny apartment. Our apartment that is less than half the size of our apartment back home. Did I mention it’s small?

Because of the (lack of) size, I purposely picked furniture that was light in colour and low-lying to give the illusion of space and height. The low bed frame. The short and wide dresser, rather than the tall one. The couch, ottoman, and coffee table all at the same height. And speaking of the couch – holy hells bells did we buy the most comfortable couch ever. Back home we had this stupid cream leather couch that we spent way too much money on, the cushions never stayed on properly, and I swear it got dirty just from looking at it. It’s on the top 5 regrettable purchases list. Our new couch is a Karlstad and it’s so crazy comfy that I never want to get out of it – an occupational hazard as a freelancer. Plus, I love the grey-blue colour.

I was going for a textured thing in the lounge area with the couch, rug, throw, and cushions. It’s so cozy and inviting.

Couch and ottoman: Karlstad
Coffee table/side table on wheels: Lack
Rug: Alhede

From the moment I landed in New York, I had been trying to get my butt up to the Museum of Arts and Design to see The Art of Scent 1889-2012 exhibition. I even managed to get up to Columbus Circle one day but got sidetracked by the shopping and then ran out of time (so typical of me). I finally got my ass into gear when I thought it was supposed to end on January 18th (I went on the 17th) – nothing like chasing down a deadline. Turns out it has been extended until Feb 17th. Anyway.

The Art of Scent is about ‘exploring the design and aesthetics of Olfactory art’. Or, appreciating the complexity of fragrance. The layers, the blending, the natural and synthetic ingredients. Considering that going to the museum is often a treat for visual, aural, and tactile senses, an exhibit in a stark white room with nothing but your nose was something special.

I really wish I had been able to take pictures to show you (that whole ‘no photos inside the exhibition’ is a bit of a downer), but thankfully google has me covered. The exhibition is designed so you walk the room and explore the 11 featured scents in chronological order. Each fragrance has its own little pod thing that you put your head into and it puffs the fragrance up into your nose. A little intimidating at first, but very cool. After that, you move to the next room and smell each fragrance in its oil form on a tester strip, just like at your local department store. There is also a wall that walks you through the 5 stages of development of Lancome Tresor – the wall spits out 5 little peel back tester strips that take you through what the perfumer did to get to the final product.

Some of the fragrances include Guerlain’s Jicky from 1889, Mugler’s Angel, Clinique’s Aromatics, and Drakkar Noir. Some I recognised, some I didn’t, and some I owned (and sadly got rid of when I moved). Smelling Chanel No. 5 reminded me of my mother-in-law because that is her signature scent. Estee Lauder Pleasures takes me to an old friend’s bedroom. Issey Miyake’s L’Eau De Issey was a gift from my parents when I graduated from high school, and I was instantly 17 again when it wafted into my nostrils. The olfactory really is a marvelous beast.

If you are in New York and have an appreciation for fragrance, have ever worn fragrance, purchased a fragrance, or just like things that smell good, I recommend you head to MAD. If that isn’t enough to get you into gear, then the Daniel Brush exhibition of diamonds and gold, and Doris Duke’s Shangri La collection of Islamic art will keep you inside from the cold for a little longer.

The wall pods – image by Brad Farwell

The table of oil samples – image by Ric Kallaher

Tresor wall slots – image by Ric Kallaher

When I woke up this morning I did what I do most other days – I grabbed my iPhone and checked the weather (and email, and Twitter, and Instagram and Facebook). To my surprise, my weather app told me it was -12 degrees. I assumed I was still asleep, rolled over, then rolled back to phone to try again. Yep, still -12 degrees. Here’s the thing though, the sun was streaming in through the blinds. It was another bright and sunny day in New York City, and from the safety of my apartment I could be excused for thinking it was a normal temperature outside, and not the evil, soul sucking, well below freezing that was enveloping the city.

When it is this cold, you can only go outside for a few minutes. I had to run to the store yesterday to grab something, and it was -9. I had two pairs of long johns on, ski socks, jeans, and snow boots. It was also so sunny and glary that I had to wear my sunnies (which were hurting my face – the plastic got so cold it left red marks on my nose). That’s the thing with this annoying weather – much like going to the snow and getting sunburned because the sun reflects off the snow, the dry air means the sun is actually quite strong when it is glary like this. This means that even though it’s freaking freezing outside, and I’m wearing enough layers that I kind of bear more than a passing resemblance to the Michelin Man, that I still have to slap on a strong SPF. I know I know….I’m supposed to wear SPF every day anyway, but come on! Now I just have to brace for the snow later in the week.

Look at that sunshine! Rocking the Olay Broad Spectrum SPF 15 and House of Harlow Chantal Bloom sunnies

Disclosure: The SPF was kindly sent to me by Olay – love you guys! Thanks for keeping me from getting burnt.

For my Australian readers, this is probably the last thing you want to read about right now. Winter?! Cold?! What’s that! Tell me how to melt-proof my face in 40 degree heat please.

No. I’m cold and I’m sick and I’m going to tell you about my winter beauty essentials instead. So there.

Yes, that headline is 100% true. The catch? You have to be a continental US resident. Oh wait, that’s me! Yay!

Seriously, Zoya are giving away THREE free nails polishes with the code ZOYA2013. You add three polishes to cart, put the code in, pay the $10 shipping, and you get three free nail polishes. And I mean three as in 1, 2, 3, not “three free” (although they are “three free”). Bonus: you also get free shipping when your order is over $25.

Me? I didn’t spend over $25 because I just ordered my three polishes – Shelby (cotton candy pink), Ziv (gold glitter) and ELISE (metallic orange). How did I not know Zoya had an Elise polish?!?! It’s described as ‘a rich and cheerful shade that looks right all year round’, which is so me (in all my best fantasies).

Because I was only allowed to bring about 20 of my polishes when we moved (out of my collection of 800) I have been slowly building my collection back up and filling the gaps (don’t tell my husband). I bought some other Zoya polishes a few weeks back – the NYFW sampler pack of Katherine, Paloma, and Frida – three incredible jelly polishes in moody winter shades. I LOVE having easy access to Zoya over here, as well as China Glaze, cheap OPI, and cheap Essie. Oh, and Deborah Lippmann! New York is a nail polish lovers wet dream.

L-R: Frida Katherine Paloma

I kind of suck at new years resolutions. Most of us do though. We make all these ridiculous, lofty resolutions like ‘lose 10 kilos’ ‘run 5 kilometres every day’ and ‘drink 8 glasses of water’, and then after 2 days and a pack of Tim Tams it all goes to shit.

I’m foregoing the illusion (and ensuing guilt) this year and making New York resolutions instead. I am lucky enough to be living in the most amazing city in the world*, and in between regular life – working, eating, shopping, TCB** – I need to tick some apple-shaped boxes. Rather than list specifics, I’ll be intentionally vague for my own benefit. I want to see some sport at Madison Square Garden and Barclays Centre (you can tell I’m heaps sporty, right? “see some sport” ha!). I want to hit all the museums at least once each. See a Broadway show (specifically Book of Mormon). I will learn the subway system and then the bus system. And I’m going to continue to photograph the city every day. This city is always inspiring and constantly evolving, and you never know where opportunity is going to come from.

I don’t think anything can ever top my 2012, but I’m bloody well going to try this year! Have a great 2013 xx

Perfect Flatiron moment

Home

NYE – midnight on the roof

*364 days a year New York is the most amazing place in the world, but Sydney completely kicks New Yorks ass when it comes to New Years Eve. Ball drop? Lame. It’s all about the Harbour pyrotechnics. 

**TCB = taking care of business. Laundry, gym, housework etc.