Vogue Knitting Live . . . Day One

Since my recent trip to NY was chock-full of activity, I’ll post a recap of each day separately.

We took the picture in the top left corner on the plane; the image to the right of that one is the view from our hotel room.  Other shots were taken at VKL marketplace and gallery. 

Friday

Last week newscasters in my area began fomenting the mania that is a winter storm warning in the South.  Every few minutes forecasts of impending threats of snow and ice appeared on television, sending residents to the store to take part in the tradition of emptying grocery shelves of on milk and bread.  A wintry mix was predicted for late Thursday evening, so, naturally, I had a bit of difficulty getting to sleep, as I was scheduled to fly out of Charlotte on a 6:00 a.m. flight on Friday to attend Vogue Knitting Live in New York.  After I’d spent a mere three hours asleep, I woke up keyed up to go.  At 4:00 a.m. my co-worker, crocheter, novice knitter, and companion, Tonya, and I headed for the airport.  While there wasn’t any snow, we did have to pry open the frozen doors of my Jetta but were then on our way.    

We’d planned to take this early flight so that, barring any unforeseen delays or cancellations, we could make the most out of our long weekend and have a full day to spend in the city on Friday.  After a few minutes waiting for the wings to be de-iced we were off and, in less than two hours, had arrived at Laguardia.  Last year I’d returned to New York after an absence of 17 years to attend this same event, so this time, with last year’s recent practice, I felt like an old hand navigating mass transit.  Tonya and I took a local bus and then a subway and then found ourselves smack dab in the middle of the mayhem that is Times Square.  The Marriott there is massive and futuristic, yet, once inside, we found the rooms to be quiet and furnished very comfortably.
 

This is the view (looking upward)
from the eighth floor of
the hotel lobby.

We were lucky to be able to check in early and to not have to store our luggage and pick it up later.  Tonya had a 2:00 class, so we headed out for a little sightseeing, since the market didn’t open until 5:00 that evening.  We found a hole in the wall where we each purchased a head-sized slice of pizza, gobbled our purchase, and then walked to Rockefeller Center and made a stop in the American Girl store, where Tonya bought some items for her daughter, who is in the fourth grade.  I gazed in awe inside the three-story site, which includes a vast inventory of dolls and accessories and even a doll hair salon.  As I am the mother of two boys, I couldn’t justify buying anything for me, although I did gaze especially longingly at the dolls dressed in Regency-inspired garb.
 

We then headed over to Saks Fifth Avenue, where I was willingly accosted by a handsome man with a charming accent who smeared wonderful lotions on my face.  Conscious of needing to reserve funds to buy yarn and other knitting-related items, though, I refrained from indulging in one of my favorite guilty pleasures—luxury face creams. 

While Tonya headed to her “Not Just for Squares:  Lovely Granny Crochet” class with Lisa Daehlin, I took a very hot bath to ease the aches of lugging luggage up and down subway steps and amazingly managed to catch a short nap (something I am biologically unable to do at home—probably because I’m always too preoccupied with my domestic to-do list).

At 5:00 I met Tonya and we followed the throng, who behaved like a band of merry vacationers boarding a cruise ship for exotic climes, into the marketplace.  We only had about an hour before we had to get ready to meet an old friend for dinner, but we managed to pack in some browsing and shopping time. 
 

Nicky Epstein was doing a book signing on Friday. 

Steven of StevenBe:  A Yarn Garage Workshop
 had a booth with wonderful
art yarns. 

I find it difficult to articulate the sublime pleasure for someone like me (a person who spends most of her time--when not at home--teaching high school in a metal trailer stuck in the middle of a muddy field or running to Target or Wal-Mart) to experience sharing a meal and a bottle of wine and witty conversation at Cafe Un, Deux, Trois—a charming French brasserie, replete with vintage crystal chandeliers and a maitre d’ with an accent.  As a former New Yorker, the pleasures of such an evening are, of course, tinged with wistful nostalgia, but I am thankful for the opportunity to be able to experience such emotions.  (I’m also thankful for my old friend and old flame who so generously paid for the meal.)

After dinner Tonya and I, exhausted but filled with anticipation, retired to rest in preparation for Saturday.