Ye Waverly

With all the buzz surrounding Ye Waverly Inn, I thought it high time to head down there and see if I could actually score a lucrative table next to regulars Calvin Klein, Molly Sims, Milla Jovovich and various Vanity Fair editor types.

As it turns out, the Waverly is so heavily guarded and overstaffed that even going to the bathroom (which was my only glimpse into the actual restuarant) means a full up and down to see if you are actually worthy of stepping that far back into where the special people are.

The Waverly isn't open to the public yet, and speculation abounds as to if it ever will be. The menu still says Preview, as it has for the past month, and there's no phone number. On my way back from the ladies I bumped into what seemed to be the manager and took the opportunity to ask him how to make a coverted reservation. Here's how the conversation went: (him, looking dandy and with his nose turned up) "We take reservations two days in advance" (me) "But, there's no phone number, correct?" (nose upturned even more) "Yes, but we have two girls here from 12 to 6 that take your reservation by walk in" (me) "So, what if you have to, you know, 'work' during 12 and 6?" (eyes rolling) "well, then I guess you have to send someone" (me) "Yeah", (followed by a fit of laughter) "that would be nice, wouldn't it?"

As I made my way back to the bar, Michael Caine was being seated at one of the numerous empty tables (obviously reserved for types that have access to the secret number, which does in fact exist). And even though the latest review in New York Magazine claims the food is only so so, like everyone else who is turned away but enchanted by what lays beyond the 4 stool bar, you can bet I'll be back to try again.

If the scrunchie fits.....

You know that Sex and the City episode where Carrie makes fun of the woman who couldn't possibly be from New York because she's wearing a scrunchie? I object to the scrunchie as much as the next girl (and New Yorker), but when the scrunchie is a brilliant orange, which just so happens to match EXACTLY the hairs on your head, that's when the scrunchie moves into a whole other level.

You can't see it here, but this is the second time I've seen Jeanne Claude out on the town, scrunchie included. It's also the second time I've seen her wearing a wind breaker. She's also a funny one about getting her picture taken. George and I ran into the pair of them at an opening a few weeks ago and poor George was flatly denied a photo op. I lucked out this time around, but when I went to stand next to Jeanne Claude I was told no way, if the photo was going to happen, I had to stand next to Christo.

Breaking it Down on the 6

Ha! Take that all you Williamsburg hipsters. I never once saw breakdancers on the 'L' train, but on only my second trip up to the Bronx (my new neighbourhood) I was treated to this:

two weeks of non-stop art

So, you know when you tell people you're moving to New York and they start to say or think things like "we're never going to hear from you" or "you'll be so busy you'll forget all about us". Ok, so maybe that's more an example of what my parents were thinking about my move to New York, but damn if these past two weeks didn't prove them right. Again.

Let's start with Wednesday, February 21st, where about 1000 people, and so many West Coast faces, packed into the MoMA for the opening of, among other exhibitions, the Jeff Wall show. I would have died happy knowing that I've seen just a few of these incredible works up close, so to have a chance to see 40 of them all at one time was pretty thrilling. No one does the lightbox quite like Jeff Wall does, some of those images felt so real I thought I was going to step right in. It was great too, to see so many familiar Vancouver faces taking it all in.

But before we get all caught up in the whole Armory week madness that ensued, let's back it up to Tuesday night, where George and I were graciously invited to a private screening of a new film about Donald Judd. I would give you more info, but the film is still in the production phase, and I'm not sure how much they really want people to know about it. What I can tell you, is that Judd was a huge fan of the bagpipes, and following our screening, all 40 or so of us were led back to Judd Foundation through the streets of SOHO by bagpipe. It was weird, and it was wonderful. Upon arrival at 101 Spring Street, all of us enjoyed wine, cheese, and a private tour of Judd's former residence. These tours are open to the public every Friday, and I HIGHLY recommend you take one in. With friends like John Chamberlain, Frank Stella and Dan Flavin, Judd's house makes for a mini modern museum.