NEW YORK STORE EASE

At the end of June (where does the time fly?) I spent 10 days in New York attending festivities celebrating the renewal of vows of dear friends journalist Pat Sellers and sports announcer Spencer Ross. There was much drinking of bubbly bevvies, noshing on pinwheel sandwiches and runny/stinky cheeses and doing retail recon, on the eternal quest for a specific pair of Alexander Wang sandals which I had spotted in runway photos and was determined to make mine. No expanse was spared.

The definitive Manhattan selfie, me and New York mag in the waiting room of Pat’s doctor where I was cooling my heels in anticipation of heading out to a street fair in steamy, wilting weather.

Me and May Pang, photo journalist and former lover of John Lennon during the renewal of vows ceremony in the courtyard of Pat and Spencer’s midtown prewar apartment building. I own one of May’s portraits of Lennon, taken during the same photo shoot which produced the iconic New York T-shirt image.

A display of fuzzy Manolo Blahnik mules at Barney’s department store which look like a high-end version of boudoir footwear from Frederick’s of Hollywood.

This is the coolest staffer at Barney’s. I am not worthy.

Still life at Starbucks: My fringe bag purchased in Italy hanging out with my green tea latte.

A stoic news vendor in midtown Manhattan decked out in a New York Post apron.

A rendition of Rome’s legendary Spanish Steps circa early 1900s in the City of the Soul Rome and the Romantics exhibit at the Morgan Library.

Here kitty, kitty. A Gucci sweater going for $1,800 at the Dover Street Market on Lexington Ave., where I lusted after everything but could afford nothing. Not nearly enough dough in the kitty.

A phenomenal pair of men’s jackets from Dolce & Gabbana at Dover Street Market. I don’t remember the price. I just kinda glazed over it.

This vest has so much going for it – including pewter buttons – and was on sale for about $1,200 which is more than a ticket to Rome.

The Empire State Building meets palm tree as seen from the rooftop lounge at 230 Fifth, at 230 Fifth (duh) and 27^th St. which is kinda touristy but you can’t beat the view. Just don’t have the lobster roll. You are paying $20 for a speck of lobster and a whole mess of white bread.

The re-newlyweds Pat and Spencer have a smooch at 230 Fifth. Awwww.

A black cat on brick, street art on West Broadway in SoHo.

The coolest cat in SoHo, a staffer at Alexander Wang flagship store at 103 Grand St., where I went in search of the elusive sandals (see below).

The highly-coveted and elusive Alexander Wang sandals which were ringing in at over $1,000 U.S. online and there was no way I was paying that. I discovered them on sale at Holt Renfrew for $619 the day before I was going to New York but I knew I could do better. I did the B’s – Barney’s, Bergdorf’s – but no go. I finally tracked them down at the Alexander Wang SoHo location but they only had one pair left – size 7 – and I am so beyond size 7. They were breaking my heart! So I texted my pal Barbara in Toronto and asked her to call Paul, the manager of Holt’s shoe department, to put aside a pair. She did and left a message about being reduced a further $169. When I got back from NYC and went to pick them up, Paul said, “You got a great deal. See the price?” They were $169. Yes, $169 reduced from $892! Foot note: Barbara can’t understand my passion for them. She calls them the “man repellers.”

Moi and the ravishing Katie Boland, my ersatz goddaughter and an extraordinarily accomplished actor/writer, mugging during lunch at Balthazar on Spring St. after bargain binging at Topshop.

Designer street performers doing their juggling/acrobatics outside Saks Fifth Avenue on Fifth Avenue.

The poster for Isaac Mizrahi: An Unruly History outside the exhibit at The Jewish Museum. He is having a good-hair day.

 A study in camel and red by Mizrahi.

Then there was this cashmere camel coat cut as a jumpsuit. What was he smoking? Imagine extricating yourself from a jumpsuit/coat in a public washroom where the coat would be puddling in the puddles on the floor of the loo.

Mizrahi is a gifted sketch artist, as illustrated by this design.

Mizrahi also designed for theatre and ballet. These creations could be not-too-distant cousins of Big Bird.

A frothy number featured in the amazing Manus x Machina in an Age of Technology exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is a blockbuster for the museum’s Costume Institute.

Feel free to fold and mutilate this Issey Miyake creation.

Examples of machine-made 3-D printer fabrications. Good luck getting a coat over these babies.

This glimpse of the stage door is the closest I got to the hottest ticket on Broadway, Hamilton.

Hopefuls camped outside the Hamilton box office in anticipation of scoring a ticket, autograph or a drive-by of the actors.

A newscaster doing colour commentary on Broadway is eclipsed by the colour of his pants, which match his little red wagon.

The requisite shot of the lights of Broadway taken in daylight.

An homage to Broadway veteran Tommy Tune in the window of Brooks Brothers clothiers.

It’s a kiosk at the Saturday street market on Lexington Avenue but it could easily be a souk in Morocco.

These look like piles of fruits and veggies but are actually mountains of fridge magnets that should not be ingested.

A vendor in the Goodwill booth at the street market totally rocks a vintage Pucci jumpsuit. Note it is not a coat.

Me, caterer Freya Clibansky and the inimitable Pat Sellers gobble carbs at Vanessa’s Dumplings during our annual Chinatown graze.

I HEART NEW YORK

I have just returned from my annual pilgrimage to New York to celebrate the birthday of my longtime journalist pal Pat Sellers, a preternaturally glam native New Yorker with an enviable collection of ball gowns rivalled only by the archives of Oscar de la Renta. I have known Pat since the ‘80s, when I hired her as the New York stringer for the Star’s Star Week TV magazine. Pat not only covered the TV beat for a slew of U.S. magazines including Soap Opera Weekly, she was a regular contributor to Cosmopolitan magazine and a personal favourite of legendary editor Helen Gurley Brown. As a result, she has tons of showbiz friends who often come along for bouts of super shopping punctuated by restorative martini breaks.

This is the obligatory selfie taken in the lobby of Pat’s midtown apartment on the first day of my visit.

My first martini in New York, the land of the free pour. Bartenders here aren’t stingy with their shots and often give you the rest of the shaker. I’ll drink to that.

Table for one, sir? Coal, Pat’s magnificent standard poodle, is having a drink at Bryant Park’s Holiday Market.

Pat, me and Coal al fresco at Bryant Park Holiday Market, just before we gorged on deep-fried pickles, the only things I bought except for a truffle pretzel, which wasn’t nearly as good as it smelled. The Bryant Park market has become way too crafty.

Coal the wonder dog with his master, Pat’s husband Spencer Ross, who is a ringer for Humphrey Bogart circa African Queen. Appearances notwithstanding, Ross is not an actor.  He is a legendary sports announcer. Just Google him. He has been described as “one of the best, if not the best radio play-by-player ever to call a game.”

Department store Christmas windows on pricey Fifth Avenue decked out in magnificent baubles.

From high-end to back end: An arresting display of cheap leggings in the schmatta district.

As disappointing as the Bryant Park Holiday Market was, Pat and I scored big-time at the one at Grand Central Station, which is worth visiting for the architecture alone. Here I am with Mariella de Leeuw, creator of the orange Mongolian fun-fur purse which followed me home. C’mon, Josephine Baker would have worn it as a skirt.

Pat is not only a fashionista, she is a major foodie. Here is a selfie of Pat, me and her caterer pal Freya, on our yearly Chinatown graze, a food-binge where we hit at least half a dozen restaurants/food stalls. Elasticized waistbands are mandatory. My personal fave is the hot-and-spicy won tons at Vanessa’s Dumpling House at 118A Eldridge St.

Chinatown in the rain. It says Little Italy on the sign but Chinatown has encroached on it. The rain was really pissing down and my crappy umbrella was useless. My pants were soaked and Pat’s take-home bacon buns were soggy.

Cool graffiti I encountered on Stanton St. while en route to Koneko cat café. Lots of interesting dive bars along the way as well. Just sayin’ -- for future reference.

This tabby is ready for his close-up inside Koneko cat café at 26 Clinton St., where for a mere $14 you can cuddle rescue cats for an unlimited time. I sorely needed a cat fix after a week away from my four furries. And while traversing Clinton St., the Leonard Cohen Clinton reference from “Famous Blue Raincoat” kept playing on my inner soundtrack.

A festive street scene I encountered while returning from Broadway after seeing The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, which I heartily recommend. Note the Empire State Building at upper right.

The de rigueur shot of skyscrapers because what says Manhattan more than towering buildings.

It wasn’t all shopping and scarfing food. There was culture too. We took in the awesome Picasso exhibit at MoMA until our backs gave out after two hours of walking on marble floors. This is titled “Pregnant Woman” but could easily be me after too much food and beverage in NYC.

Do not adjust your set -- a pair of MoMA-goers at Picasso exhibit decked out in on-trend clashing patterned coats.

This is by far the coolest couple in New York, two Picasso exhibit fans. They could be extras in a Janis Joplin/Jimmy Hendrix/Sly and the Family Stone retrospective.

Pat is test driving a fabulous faux-fur cape at Accolade on 1410 First Avenue, her go-to clothing boutique. We split a bottle of bubbles, furnished by the affable owner, which goes down well but does nothing for sales resistance.

You could tour this table. Actors Louise Sorel (Days of Our Lives), Linda Thorson (The Avengers), Jessica Walter (Arrested Development), and Pat have smart cocktails at the King Cole Room in the luxe St. Regis Hotel, home of the $25 Bloody Mary.