No Apologies...

There is a  quiet hush across Manhattan during the days surrounding the 4th of July.  The type of quiet hush that is all at once eerie and serene.  A mass exodus of city dwellers racing to beat concrete jungle heat by escaping to charming Connecticut countrysides and other lush green destinations in search of cooler temps and slower paces.

Dressed up for my own early morning 4th of July style adventure, I hop in for a short taxi ride uptown, East 85th to Madison. As Madison beckons to me, it is as though I am the only moving vehicle on 85th this early morning.  The 15 minute usual journey becomes a 5 minute skip across avenues of non existent traffic.  Ahhh locals have spoken of this phenomenon.  Today should be lovely...

Making my way down an entirely closed for business and uncluttered Madison Avenue, I marvel at the emptiness of a usually hustling and bustling city sidewalk.  Now without any crowds to work my way around and the absence of friends, shopping companions or any ONE rushing me down the street, I am free to stop and peer.  I have a ticket to stop and stare inside the doors of Christian Louboutin as long as my heart desires. As unabashedly long as I like, without apology.  Time is all mine. I breath slower.  I feel lighthearted and content.

Taking in bold artistic visions and vibrant, intricate details, I am surrounded by lux therapy for hungry eyes.  I am high heels and ear to ear smiles. Elegantly executed window displays refined in utmost style. I envision teams of talented souls creating daring wearable art.  I imagine sketches drawn and re drawn until the perfect shade of posh becomes a reality.   Consumerism built this street, but on this day Madison operates only as my modern museum. I am mused by Chloe, Pucci, Lauren,  Nanette Lepore...even Laduree and the Dean & DeLuca grocery store!  I am intrigued by the passionate design surrounding me.

As a fiery sun rises higher into the sky on this morning of a hot July,  I am Holly Golightly starring in my own early morning Truman Capote scene.

Backyard BBQs are overrated.

May you always create your own kind of solitude.
May you never apologize for it.
May your February be filled with fireworks.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo
Birdee Bow