New York, I sometimes hate you.

I almost broke up with New York City this weekend. Friday night a driver from a Brooklyn car service dumped me and a friend rather unceremoniously in the middle of a random and particularly cold and windy industrial block claiming – “I don’t fuck with Williamsburg”. Things went downhill from there. Culminating in the loss of my magical faux-fur at Darkroom. That’s some bad karma – stealing a coat on the coldest... Read More