Object of desire

The Pashley Princess Sovereign $1195. Only to be ridden in Manhattan if you have an elevator or a garage to chain it up in. Waaay to heavy to carry upstairs, and a magnet for thievery. But, oh so beautiful.

Great Used Bikes

Evil bastard sticky fingered immoral thieves have stolen my beloved bicycle from outside my apartment whilst I've been travelling. And I am FURIOUS. I'm now down $260 after replacing not just the bike, but the basket & locks too.

I’ve had to replace way too many bikes here in Manhattan. There was the one taken by the police when they (illegally) decided to remove every single bike chained to a lamppost in the East Village & the one taken when I was at a press appointment because I had forgotten to put both locks on*. I sold this flea market buy on after this incident (it was a cruiser with pedal brakes, which was asking for trouble with a malco like me riding it), but this is the first bike, I think, that has just disappeared for no good reason.

And I’m pissed off. It was the best bike I've had here: super well-constructed, with a brilliantly comfy saddle & lovely padded foam handlebars, but I didn’t have anywhere to leave it when I went away apart from the street, and so I took the gamble. And lost.

Anyway, the lovely John from Great Used Bikes delivered its bright blue replacement today.



It has Free Sprit emblazoned across the body, which makes me chuckle. I think this is the third bike I’ve had from John, and I can’t recommend his service enough. He delivers the bikes to your door on a Sunday, properly tuned up, which is more than you can say for the hot boneshakers sold on street corners and in the flea markets here. He attaches baskets, and an I Love NY bell and, if the bike doesn’t feel quite right, he will bring you a different one the next week to try out.

And if you have a disaster he can help too. When evil bastard putative bike thieves did this



to the first bike I bought from him, he brought an acetylene burner into town and removed the busted lock for me. And then brought a new wheel in for me the next weekend when he noticed that the original one had been buckled in the incident.

I can't recommend his service highly enough. Sure, you can buy a shiny new bike for maybe a little less in K Mart or elsewhere, but there's no service, or after-care, &, most importantly, something shiny & new will get stolen within seconds on Manhattan, so that's just a false economy in the long run. (My first bike from John lasted 10 months, and the second 13 months.)

*thus proving my theory that you don’t necessarily need expensive locks, just plenty of them as deterrents.

How to make exercise pleasurable: Hiking followed by a Hotel Bel-Air picnic

A year ago if I had been told that a stay in a sybaritic hotel was to be interrupted by a two hour hike, however beautiful the surroundings, I'd have pleaded an imaginary knee injury, stayed in bed, and worked my way through room service.

I never used to be like this. I did the Duke of Edinburgh's Bronze & Gold Awards at high school, which involved camping, orienteering & pretty strenuous two or four day hikes over the North Downs & the North York Moors.

On my GAP year I powered up, through and down 12km of interior rainforest to cross Pulau Tioman in Malaysia in 90% humidity, finishing the hike an hour ahead of my super-sporty best friend. But, once I started university, I reverted to my natural state: prone in bed with a novel.

The first inkling I had that I did actually enjoy exercise in adult life was when I bought a bike in London maybe four years ago. Gradually my tentative 5 min outings became half day expeditions down the London Canal paths. Then I moved to Manhattan, bought another bicycle and became one of those boring cycling evangelists. (Yes - it's so much quicker, yes - you can bike in four inch stilettos).

Bicycling has taught me not to be scared of exercise, that I am actually naturally capable of not collapsing after five minutes of exertion. That it was just exercising in a group where people judged my inadequacies & mal co-ordination that I loathed. And that Gym and Games were the work of the devil.

So that brings me to California and to hiking. JK forced me up the Santa Lucia mountains and I loved every minute, so when the Hotel Bel-Air suggested a morning hike in the foothills of the Santa Monica mountains in Will Rogers State Park I jumped at the chance. (Not least because the hotel's transport to the park was in a Bentley Coupe.)

The trails are well marked, (and, incredibly, Jonathan & Jenny from the Bel-Air had previously hiked the paths to check their safety & suitability for guests), and the day was overcast, so powering up was strenuous but not too shattering. The scenery helped.
We carried on walking uphill.

Then, because obviously my brain was addled by an hour's uphill hike, I decided to run (I NEVER run, EVER) all the way back down the mountain along this path. I was so warmed up that it was immense fun, although if I had remembered to wear a sports bra, then I wouldn't have had to run with my arms wrapped around my chest to avoid two black eyes.

Of course, when you arrive back at the bottom in the flat part of the park to find Henry, the Hotel Bel-Air's magnificent banqueting manager standing sentinel over a row of Little Red Riding Hood picnic baskets, it all seems so worthwhile.



Henry also had a huge cooler of soda and an ipod speaker with soothing music for us to listen to whilst we collapsed on the rug he had so thoughtfully laid out. (We like Henry very much.)



Yes, those are hotel slippers, tucked into the side of the basket, so that tired toes can wiggle free. (We also had Evian spritzers.)



And, yes, that is a glass of Laurent-Perrier.



I went vegetarian so my utterly delicious lunch was a mozzarella & tomato salad, beetroot & goats cheese salad (or a shrimp version), a grilled vegetable sandwich (or turkey), an avocado, cucumber & cream cheese wrap (or with salmon), followed by a peach tart with streusel topping & cinnamon sauce. That little lot will have neatly balanced out any benefits of the exercise.



I am CRIPPLED today.

LLG was a guest of the Hotel Bel-Air

Evil bike nabbing bastards

It takes a lot to stop me in my tracks, but this did it. BASTARDS. Evil bike thieves had tried to use the weight of the bike as leverage to bust the D lock. Props to K Mart for my $12.99 lock which didn't snap. However, not only did they leave my bike hanging off a signpost, they jammed the lock, in addition to bending the wheel out of shape, and screwing up the gearing.

Fortunately John from Great Used Bikes was on his weekly mission into the city with a van full of bikes on Sunday, so stopped by St Mark's and literally melted the lock off the signpost with a flame torch thing. Most impressive. Sadly my wheel is beyond repair, so he's done a bodge job for me to ride around on this week, and is bringing me a new wheel next Sunday. Now that's what I call good customer service. I am thrilled: not least because I don't have to rely on the charlatans at the bike shop around the corner who charged me $5 to put air in my tyres last month.

Cycle heaven

I love my bicycle with a deep and desperate passion, and am rarely happier than when I am bowling along the streets of Manhattan on a fresh spring day. As I work from home, a bike meshes perfectly with my lifestyle, & it's only occasionally that there is a sartorial problem. (I'm pretty good at cycling in heels now, but have to admit that not only do I fear helmet hair, I hate my boy-racer helmet too.)

Yesterday morning I was doing errands on Free Spirit (I didn't choose the name, it's emblazoned on the crossbar). First to Union Square for a spot of brand consultancy, and then down to Soho to pull some shoes for a lookbook I was styling in the afternoon.

As I was departing the shoe store with two big bags of shoes, I mentioned that I was on my bike. The store manager raised a metaphorical eyebrow, and in a voice tinged with patronage said, "A bicycle? How...cute."

I am starting to realise that, unlike London, where it is seen as positively cool to rock up on a bike, here it's seen as extremely eccentric and kind of cash-strapped for a fashion editor to be nipping around town on one.

Certainly I chuckled when the paparazzi who always hang outside the Waverly Inn waiting for celebs to exit told me I was the only diner they'd ever seen arrive on two wheels instead of in a blacked out town car. And I'm certain mine is the only member's bike chained up outside Soho House. And do I care? Absolutely not.

And now I've discovered the answer to carrying a hideous (but life-saving) helmet is to buy one by Sawako Furuno, who is based in London. A mere £60 (consider that your bog-standard helmet costs around £30) this is on my must-have list. They can be ordered in a variety of colourways and patterns:Although I fear it is a trifle self-indulgent to have a wardrobe of cycling helmets.

Chanel bicycle: designed for women by men...

This is Chanel's new eight speed bicycle with, um, quilting details, costing a neat £6,200, & available in store from December. But my question is: It's a bicycle designed for women. Why then does it have a cross bar?

Four wheels bad, two wheels good

Drum roll, please.

My new bike



After all, I figure if I can cycle round Piccadilly Circus in stilettos, then Manhattan should be within my grasp...