It seems highly unlikely, I know, but I am a closet romantic. Born and bred in the midwest, the experience of the evening there is different in many obvious ways, and one subtle. Even though my parent’s home is a dreary straight line drive west across Pennsylvania, the sun sets seemingly later. I used to think it was one of those self-involved suppositions, like my belief that streetlights go out when I am near (presumably a result of having been struck by lightning as a child), until my sister pointed out a more scientific reason: being a goodly ways west within the same arbitrary time division, with New York being the leading edge, we have at least an hour less of federally mandated Daylight Savings Time than my birthplace. There, the longer crawl to the horizon illuminated many evenings of sport, wandering, and preparing myself for the non-stop frustration and misanthropy of my adulthood.
Here, the sun droops sooner, abetted by towering hunks of metal and stone. Like everything else in this town, the enforced scarcity makes slender moments more precious. Today being the symbolic entry into summer, it also is the first solid week of summer evenings and spring air. So take yourself for a walk. It doesn’t have to be grand, and it doesn’t have to be planned. If you don’t mind, I have a few recommendations:
Seventh Avenue in the 30’s. The remnants of the Garment District are primarily physical, the hulking stone manufacturing centers of the teens and twenties. Rising to a uniform height, with a limited amount of set backs, as required, they form a striking wall illuminated by the gap that is Penn Station and the Garden. The upslope of Seventh is a great view, albeit a rather crowded one, as hordes muscle their way along to the terminal, most oblivious to the dusty hues above.
Brooklyn Bridge. Believe the hype. Ignore the tourists. It’s near impossbile to feel like it’s ours, overrun with camera-toting interlopers. But there’s a reason for that appeal, and it’s not just Fodor’s. Save yourself half the pain by walking east over the Manhattan Bridge (you get the south path as a pedestrian, perfect for evenings) and wander though DUMBO, which is still empty enough for you to forget it’s the new Tribeca.
Robert Wagner Park. It’s annoying that every seven feet of the Battery is a different park. Robert Wagner is the southern most portion of Battery Park City before you get to the Battery proper. Featuring a wonderful brick folly by Machado/Silvetti — do not fail to stand on that bridge or sit in those luxuriant benches on the upper level — and a perfect green rectangle (no noise please), this is best experienced right close to sun down, so that the jumble of uninspired apartment blocks just to the north are a hazy mass, and New Jersey looks like a place you might want to actually visit.
But the real point is, don’t go anywhere. Just go. Don’t stop for a drink, or at least until after it’s dark. Sit in inappropriate places. Smile at strangers, or just to yourself. You only have a little bit of time. Don’t let it get away.
Previous Lore: 052505: Neither city, nor subway, but Empire. 050405: Like Usual? 042705: The best thing ever.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.
Wednesday Lore: Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances.
It seems highly unlikely, I know, but I am a closet romantic. Born and bred in the midwest, the experience of the evening there is different in many obvious ways, and one subtle. Even though my parent’s home is a dreary straight line drive west across Pennsylvania, the sun sets seemingly later. I used to think it was one of those self-involved suppositions, like my belief that streetlights go out when I am near (presumably a result of having been struck by lightning as a child), until my sister pointed out a more scientific reason: being a goodly ways west within the same arbitrary time division, with New York being the leading edge, we have at least an hour less of federally mandated Daylight Savings Time than my birthplace. There, the longer crawl to the horizon illuminated many evenings of sport, wandering, and preparing myself for the non-stop frustration and misanthropy of my adulthood.
Here, the sun droops sooner, abetted by towering hunks of metal and stone. Like everything else in this town, the enforced scarcity makes slender moments more precious. Today being the symbolic entry into summer, it also is the first solid week of summer evenings and spring air. So take yourself for a walk. It doesn’t have to be grand, and it doesn’t have to be planned. If you don’t mind, I have a few recommendations: Seventh Avenue in the 30’s. The remnants of the Garment District are primarily physical, the hulking stone manufacturing centers of the teens and twenties. Rising to a uniform height, with a limited amount of set backs, as required, they form a striking wall illuminated by the gap that is Penn Station and the Garden. The upslope of Seventh is a great view, albeit a rather crowded one, as hordes muscle their way along to the terminal, most oblivious to the dusty hues above. Brooklyn Bridge. Believe the hype. Ignore the tourists. It’s near impossbile to feel like it’s ours, overrun with camera-toting interlopers. But there’s a reason for that appeal, and it’s not just Fodor’s. Save yourself half the pain by walking east over the Manhattan Bridge (you get the south path as a pedestrian, perfect for evenings) and wander though DUMBO, which is still empty enough for you to forget it’s the new Tribeca. Robert Wagner Park. It’s annoying that every seven feet of the Battery is a different park. Robert Wagner is the southern most portion of Battery Park City before you get to the Battery proper. Featuring a wonderful brick folly by Machado/Silvetti — do not fail to stand on that bridge or sit in those luxuriant benches on the upper level — and a perfect green rectangle (no noise please), this is best experienced right close to sun down, so that the jumble of uninspired apartment blocks just to the north are a hazy mass, and New Jersey looks like a place you might want to actually visit. But the real point is, don’t go anywhere. Just go. Don’t stop for a drink, or at least until after it’s dark. Sit in inappropriate places. Smile at strangers, or just to yourself. You only have a little bit of time. Don’t let it get away. Previous Lore:052505: Neither city, nor subway, but Empire.
050405: Like Usual?
042705: The best thing ever.