When I moved to Northern California from New York City a few months ago, one of the things I was sure I would miss, and did indeed long for, was a hot summer night. These don’t really exist in San Francisco or Oakland, and I have always loved the way NYC’s sultry summer evenings propel everyone out into the streets and into various states of undress. It is so much fun! The great thing about New Yorkers in the summer is that they both acquiesce to and deny the heat with their attire. You see people wearing blazers, boots, leather shorts (was any item of clothing ever so unsuited to every single climate as leather shorts?), etc. on a humid 90 degree day. But you also see people creatively finding ways to wear as little as possible. Everyone loves fall fashion, but summer breeds its own weird, wonderful outfits in addition to its flip-flops and unflattering shorts.
So when I discovered that it would be unseasonably warm during a late-May/early-June visit, I was excited to experience some sweaty, humid New York City style. But, I had forgotten how it really feels to schlep from one place to another, to eat, to drink, to do literally anything when it is so hot humid outside. It feels like you are walking through a mist of warm sweat, and you are adding to it with your own sweat, and your clothes, and hair, and eyeballs are all just saturated with sweat. This creates a sensation I like to refer to as the humid thickness. The humid thickness makes it difficult to accomplish anything without an over airconditioned room. And so, with little further comment, we present some photographs taken in NYC over the past few days. Many, but not all, were taken by myself and my companion, Alex, as we sweated along with all the other New Yorkers.
When it gets so hot that you want to tear off all clothing, there is a kind of pleasure in this brand of collective suffering. It has been a wonderful trip.
We are going to the Schiaparelli-Prada show at the Met tomorrow, and will report back next week. Warmly yours, until then.