I'm In A Carrie Bradshaw State of Mind

It feels like I haven't been a city girl in a while. For three months, I've been living in over-sized t-shirts, denim cut-offs, canvas shoes and wearing little to no make-up. Using a hair straightner feels like a foreign concept, not to mention actually going somewhere which would require I straighten my hair. Let's just say two months of camp and one month of backpacking hasn't given me much opportunity to dress and behave like the city girl I am when at home in Sydney.

Needless to say, I felt a little rusty upon my arrival back in New York. Here I was in one of the fashion capitals of the world where I may bump into Anna Wintour at any moment, get caught in the background of a fashion shoot or get hit by a speeding cab and all my savviest, fashion-forward outfits are at home in Australia, packed in suitcases under my bed! I'm still fine-tuning how to style my new haircut and having come straight out of summer, I don't have any shoes which are suitable for the cold and rainy weather which greeted me upon arrival.

Then a man on a train, in offering me his seat, asked me if I was pregnant.

So now, not only am I unfashionable, but I am also fat.

Not quite the Carrie Bradshaw-inspired arrival I imagined for myself.

But as Alicia Keys crooned - These streets will make you feel brand new, these lights will inspire you -and within a day or two of being back in the world of high heels and candy-like cocktails, I got my groove back. I cut out bagels as one of my primary food groups, hit the gym and bought a pair of boots. With what few fashionable items I unearthed from the depths of my backpack, I threw together some savvy outfits and realised that straightening one's hair is indeed like riding a bike. Then with my credit card in one hand and my integrity in the other, I took to the NYC streets channeling the attitude of my New York oracle, Carrie Bradshaw.

Being single and fabulous in New York City is made all the more easier by staying in a swanky hotel and courtesy of my sister, who's work happened to send her to New York the exact same week that I was planning to visit, I'm thankful for getting a bit of much-appreciated red-carpet treatment at the Andaz Hotel. Not only do I get to stay in a suite which boasts its own bathroom, supply of yummy treats which are restocked daily, a flat-screen TV with cable and a big plush queen bed, but I get to share it all in the company of my sister. Our return to Hyde-Sisterhood Status was celebrated by spending Sunday trundling around Brooklyn doing what we love most - eating and taking photographs of street art.

However, with Sister Dearest here for work, the daylight hours are mine and mine alone. With the weather throwing a wet blanket over my plans to wander around the city neighbourhoods on a whim, the rain drove me inside on Monday and Tuesday. I ticked a few more tourist landmarks off my list - the Metropolitan Museum of Art (MET), Grand Central Station and the New York Public Library. That's right ladies, I stood on the staircase where Carrie Bradshaw did not marry Big.

The sun decided to co-operate this morning and lavished me with some blue sky, so it was off to Greenwich Village - what was the haunt of the artists and bohemians of the 70s but is now the stomping ground of NYU students and beautiful, if not surprisingly, overpriced apartment blocks. I found the world's most satisfying thrift store - Munk Vintage Thrifts, 175 Macdougal Street - where I bought a giant Nordstrom scarf for a tidy $15. This was followed by a cupcake from Magnolia Bakery (Sex In The City reference) which I guzzled in the Washington Square Park while writing poetry and watching wayward bohemian-types busking Bob Marley tunes. I then walked back to the subway where I accidently came across another Sex In The City landmark, the Jefferson Market Garden, which was the locale of Miranda and Steve's wedding.

And to top it all off, I'm typing this post from the window seat of my hotel where below me, the streets are full of busy New York commuters hailing taxi cabs and scurrying towards subway stations. A pipe protruding from the sidewalk billows a steady stream of white cloud into the air, which dissolves into the twilight sky as street vendors shut up shop for the night. Before my eyes, the street lights are flickering on as the city shrugs out of its business suit and slips into its evening dress code. Just like Carrie Bradshaw, New York City itself has an outfit for everything.

And here I am, writing in the middle of it.

Ciao for now. xo