ADD Weekend

I like nothing more than busy weekends running around the City while catching up with lots of friends but sometimes I really overdo it and this weekend was a perfect example of how crazy things can get in a City that tends to breed a very short attention span.

So, the weekend saw me -


Meeting the girls at Schiller's in the Lower East Side on Saturday at 2pm for a quick Mimosa before heading off to a British Expat Pimms themed BBQ on the rooftop of the Delancey. There, we met more girlfriends and my friend PC, who is over from London for a few days, also joined for a couple of hours and a few burgers. In the early evening, I dragged the girls to Spitzer's Corner for just one drink because I wanted to quickly catch up with CB who had texted me earlier that he was there.

From there, we made an inexplicable stop at the Steve Madden shoe store across the street, drunkenly trying on the most ridiculous shoes we could find while singing loudly to the music in the store ... much to the dismay of the sales staff but to our endless amusement. We then hopped in a cab to Ace of Clubs where the Brits Expat group had organized a live music night and we danced along for a few hours until our itchy feet got the better of us again and I suggested that we go to Fat Baby for more dancing. Another friend of mine, SG, met us there at 1am and we finally all left at 3am but not without stopping at a hole in wall for a slice of pizza of course.

Get up with a bad hangover far too early on Sunday and get ready to meet an extended group of friends, including the girls, for FM's leaving brunch at Odeon in Tribeca. Linger and gossip about the night before over Bloody Marys and Eggs Benedict. Brave the by now extreme weather conditions (there was a tornado warning in the City) to head out to The Hideaway. Stayed for one drink before deciding that we really wanted to be at Forgione's instead. Drank their Cote De Provence Rose reserve dry by which point having food seemed like a good idea but we were told that the kitchen was closed. Staggered over to Flor Del Sol for tasty tapas before finally jumping into a cab home, absolutely exhausted, at midnight.

2 days. 10 bars/restaurants.

A new record, even for me!

Swinging Manhattan

Not, of course, that type of swinging but while looking through some photos I took on my Iphone a few months ago, I remembered some of my favourite music-themed nights out this year which haven't made it onto this blog yet.

A picnic in Central Park is by far my favourite summer past-time. I love the hive of activities that Sheep Meadows becomes as soon as the first rays of sunshine appear. Finding an empty spot, as well as navigating your way through flying frisbees and other airborne implements, can be quite a challenge. But one that I do not mind.

Marie, Larry, Caroline and I had our first picnic in the park back in April on one of the first truly beautiful weekends of the year. Everyone will tell you that it is illegal to drink alcohol in Central Park and if caught, you will be fined. So far, it is a risk that we have been more than prepared to take and we had a wonderful afternoon, whiling away the hours chatting, laughing, eating and, of course, sipping wine.

As the evening dawned, Larry and Caroline decided to go home but Marie and I were of course still full of energy and she took me to the skate circle. I had never been before - it's an area of the park where groups of roller bladers congregate every weekend and dance until late at night. At first, we sat on a patch of grass and watched in awe as the skaters swirled and jumped. But it wasn't long before everyone there, whether skaters or spectators, started to dance together and a couple of guys dragged Marie and I into head spinning routines, the kind of old-fashioned couple dancing that I do with my dad at every family parties. I'm not exactly sure but I think that we stayed there and danced non-stop for four or five hours, amazed at how friendly, fun and eclectic the crowd was.

I am a huge fan of little Jimmy Scott, the 84 years old Jazz vocalist whose amazing and almost feminine voice combined with his physical frailty bring me to tears whenever I see him perform.

His live performances are very far and few between now because of his age and ailing health but I was lucky enough to see him at the Dizzy Jazz club at Columbus Circle when I moved here in 2007 and when he came back for a brief stint at the same venue back in April this year, I jumped at the chance and took along music-loving D, who I knew would enjoy it as much as I would.

Little Jimmy did not disappoint even though his set was much shorter than it was even two years ago with just four songs. But he delivered them with such emotional intensity that it sent shivers down my spine and made the evening even more special for me. The venue itself only added to the experience as its huge floor to ceiling windows overlook Central Park and 59th glittering in the night.

I really like Razorlight - to me, they are very much the epitome of alternative British rock bands: skinny lead singer, dodgy hairstyles, but with solid beats and occasionally thought provoking lyrics.

While they are big in the UK and would normally play at venues the size of Wembley stadium, they are pretty much unknown in the US and Libs, Marie and I got the chance to see them at the Hiro Ballroom, a smallish club in the basement of the Maritime Hotel on the edge of the Meat Packing district.

There were probably no more than a hundred or so people packed in the venue and unsurprisingly, they all seemed to be British. We perched up on the stairs leading to the balcony which afforded us fantastic views of the stage and the band. The atmosphere was electric as they played their original hits ("In America" and "In the morning") alongside tracks from their latest album "Golden Touch" .... and while we may have been feeling too old for the mosh pit, it didn't stop us from jumping up and down and head bang like a bunch of teenage groupies!

Manhattan Nights

I realise that I haven't blogged much about some of the most entertaining nights out I had over the summer. I've always liked a party - I take it from my Dad who always has to be the last one to leave, just like me. This is especially true since I became single two years ago. With no-one to answer to or to alert of my whereabouts, the party girl in me has truly been unleashed ...

Singing Queens

One of Marie's friend is a DJ who regularly plays in New York. He invited her to dance boat party where he was DJing and we decided to make a girls night out of it with two other girlfriends, Lisa & Libs. Donning our best summer nights outfits we made our way to Chelsea Pier, the idea being that we would sail around Manhattan for around 3 hours while drinking and dancing.

As soon as we started queuing to get on the boat, we realised that it might not quite be our scene. Our fellow party goers were clearly avid clubbers and on the young side. Our fears were confirmed when we eventually boarded. We went straight to the bar and ordered some white wine, only to be told, after the barman poured us a glass each in a plastic cup that this was the last of it ... Clearly, wine was not the tipple of choice at this party and we suspected that alcohol was probably not the vice of choice in any case.

We managed to find an awkward corner in which to stand, surrounded by sweaty crowds. The hard house music was deatheningly loud. I was bracing myself for three hours of hell when Libs and I exchanged a panicked look and I knew then that she felt the same way as me. We hatched a hurried plan to get off the boat as soon as possible. Marie and Lisa also shared our feelings and we literally jumped off the boat minutes before it sailed.

Instead, we went to the rooftop bar of the Gansevoort Hotel, in the Meat Packing district. Sipping cocktails in real glasses, with cool music playing in the background, is much more my idea of fun these days. It came to that time of the night when, after a few drinks and lots of chatting, our feet started tapping along to the music and going to a Karaoke bar seemed like a very good idea ... We hopped in a taxi to Sing Sing in the East Village and while the rest of the night is a little blurry, I do know that we spent hours in our private room, belting out 80s hits until the early hours of the morning.

Friends Melting Pot
Paul, an old friend of mine, was in town from London and staying with me for a week back in July. On Friday night, we made separate dinner plans but agreed that we would meet later at a birthday party he had been invited to in the Lower East Side.

So I first met up with Kimmy, Debbie, Joe and some of his friends at Kum Gang San, a traditional Korean Barbeque restaurant in Midtown. One of our dinner companions was Korean and ordered everything for us. It was a wonderful way to sample new and exciting dishes. One of them was a seafood soup: plump prawns and scallops were floating in a fragrant broth as well as something round, dimpled and white, which I could not identify. Joe and I happened to take a bite of "it" at the same moment and our faces convulsed. Upon biting on the chewy exterior, a bitter liquid came out of it and we both immediately spat out the offending "thing". Joe's friend laughed and told us that we had just tried something called "sea squirts". We googled it on our blackberries and were horrified to find out that it was a slug-like sea creature, known for eating its own brain when it found a rock to set up home. I won't be trying that again.

I left my friends who were going on to Soho and went to meet Paul. The party was on the rooftop of a newly built apartment block, with amazing views of the City glittering in the night. As Paul started to wholeheartedly embrace my love of living in New York (not difficult when you're sipping a cocktail with a view like this), Marie called me and we decided to leave the party and join her and a few other joint friends at Toy Company on Norfolk Street.

No, we did not go to a children's toy store. The Toy Company is a "secret" bar that could easily be missed if it wasn't for the small sign on the entrance gate, surrounded by burly bouncers. A short walk through an underground tunnel leads you to a bar that looks like a Victorian living room, complete with a huge fireplace, antique chandeliers and velvet paisley wallpaper. There is also a back room which can only be accessed through a sliding bookcase. The main quirk of the place is that all drinks are served in tea cups. It was impossible not to lift our little fingers as we drank from our dainty cups and I had to convince myself a couple of times that it was indeed wine I was sipping and not the finest Earl Grey.

Brooklyn Barbie
Strictly speaking, this event did not happen at night and did not even take place in Manhattan but it is one of my favourite summer memories. Larry hosted one of his infamous barbecues at his house in Brooklyn on July 17th. He spent hours cooking southern style pork and twice baked potatoes, bought enough meat to feed an entire army and a group of around eight of us made the trip across the East river to attend it.

Larry lives on the ground floor of an old factory, set in a quiet residential street populated by families and elderly people. The barbecue was set up right on the pavement and thankfully one person in the group actually had any kind of meat grilling skills. Pop music was blasting out of his appartment and competing with a rather odd-looking group of teenagers who were practicing line dancing in the park across the street. Evidently, we drawned out their music and engaged in an hilarious dance-off with them. Phil had the best dance routine, writhing around on the balcony in suggestive ways.

More salacious entertainment was brought on by the children's paddling pool Larry had also placed on the pavement and we spent hours throwing water at each other. I believe that Larry changed outfits a record number of five times due to the constant soaking, while we were left to dry off as best as we could until the next water fight.

Other highlights of the day included putting make up on Phil's face while he was "resting" from drinking a little too much vodka, as well some rather rude things being done to a Little Mermaid Disney figure ... I don't think the neighbours have quite recovered from our antics yet.