Spring has sprung in Manhattan

Christ। Where does the time go? I spent far too much time last week worrying about my book, and trying to collate clips to send to various CN mags & to NY papers ( have a fistful of personal recommendations but feel such a cheese using them). Got to get a grip.

On Thursday I managed to get lost on 42nd St on the way to Condé Nast. It was hardly my first visit – there's really no excuse. I HATE Times Square: it’s confusing, visually migraine inducing, full of camera toting, sheep like tourists and touts. It was so bloody cold even through my furry ear muffs, that I had to duck into glam ole Burger king to check the map. Too cold to stand still for just one moment on the pavement, sorry sidewalk, whilst stationary.

Supper at Lil' Frankies with an entertainment editor from a big UK mag to a soundtrack of hard rawk from East Village Radio piped through from their studio next door. The pizza is stupendous if fat making. Note to self: DO not let self be dragged there again unless hungover and desperately in need of carbs.

But now it’s Weds again and we are in full Spring. Frolicking and gambolling like little lambs. It’s a relief not to have to wear six layers although gutted I haven’t had an opportunity to wear my mother’s vintage sheepskin skating bonnet with pompoms ties a la Marc that she brought out for me at the weekend.

Off to Soho for lunch with Tallulah’s sister in law who talks faster than a ticker tape. I was gong to schlumpf along in boyfriend jeans and converse but unfort have an appt with a fashion PR for a showroom wander so feel I shld dress like a fashion hack rather than a student. Sigh. Just a little hungover from the Waris party at Bergdorf’s last night. More on that at a later date when I find my camera cable so I can post pics.

Soundtrack: The Kooks
Wearing: TopShop navy blue silk tunic with trumpet sleeves. Grey woolly tights. Blue patent platforms. Vintage gold chains & necklaces ; Michael Teperson cream Toaster bag