The High Line

I love this place
A park perched just high enough above the street
View of the Hudson and sunset
Wild-looking grasses and berries and plum-colored ground cover
Benches with happy people posing for photos
A mix of industrial angles and feathery nature

The High Line is a park that’s been carved from an abandoned elevated railway that ran along the river in Manhattan.
We visited one weekend this winter, wind questioning the wisdom of our fashionable-but-not-so-warm coats, but not so much we ran for cover. It was sunset, the sky just beginning to color. We passed the amphitheater where they show films in summer, tried another where the show is the street below.

But the best part is that for years this place was lost.
Just a scrappy, ugly and abandoned strip of land, no longer used for trains, no longer used for a thing.
Discarded.
And now, it is truly elevated.
My new favorite place in New York.
Add it to the list.

Kicks

People-watching in New York always gives my fashion sense a goose in the rear. Wheee! Look at those skin-tight leather pants. On a man. And they look good! How about those boots that hug the leg like a sock – all the way past the knee? An unlikely item, but she carries it off beautifully. Short coats, long legs, lime green pants. Chunky shoes, impossibly high heels. Swishy short skirts, pencil-thin pants. Prints with prints, black on black, faux fur, dated jackets.

It’s absolutely liberating. Especially in buttoned-down Washington, where we’re lucky to see much beyond the standard internship-ready politician’s suit.

Celebrating this freedom of dress are two photographers whose creative eyes make fashion seem fun, rather than confining. The Sartorialist shoots outfits and people who simply strike his fancy, whether they’re construction workers in classic workboots, dapper old men, or fashionistas in designer frocks and improbable heels. Bill Cunningham, age 70+, rides his bike around the city and shoots on an observed theme: raincoats. Or “weekend boots.” Or colored scarves on men. It’s all so artfully presented, it makes me wonder whether fashion really can be more creative endeavor than over-priced image-making.

I imagine what I would shoot if I were them. The last weekend I visited the city, it would have been colored shoes. I saw countless versions of what we once called “sneakers,” in startling colors, popping out of the sea of standard New York City black and grey: bright shots of orange. Pink. Sunshine yellow.

That same weekend, I was also inspired by my sister in law, a long-time New Yorker. She wore the most practical but most fun Converse sneakers, in standard black. They were especially inspiring after I’d walked countless city blocks in heeled boots (I thought these would be comfortable, but in New York, where we walk everywhere, “comfortable” means something entirely different).

So. Coming soon to the streets of Takoma Park: red Converse, unearthed from the back of the closet. Color and comfort, how very New York. Maybe I’ll wear them on my next trip to the city, too.