Apples and Oranges

Dr. Suess got it right, "oh the places you'll go".

It seems now more than ever I get asked the same question (or variation of) over phone conversations, dinners, and awkward first encounters, "So, what do you like better, Boston or New York?"

Over the past couple of months my politically correct answer has been, "Well, I'm not sure, as comparing the two cities is like comparing apples to oranges." The response, depending on which side the person I'm corresponding with favors more, is typically, "Oh well there's no comparison! [Insert Biased Opinion City Here] is by FARRR superior to [Insert "Less Important" City Here]."

Well, after much careful thought and consideration (and the dismay of many close friends), I have come to figure out that truly, I am a Boston bred girl at heart.

Yes, I am aware that I grew up in the shadows of what I will always call, "The City". That's what happens when your teenage years are spent in the Garden State, and adventures in New York are a short train ride away. I have close ties with the Big Apple, but in comparison to Boston, New York will always remain similar to someone I'm dating. As with everyone else living within the confines of Manhattan, I have a love/hate relationship which may sometimes classify as bi-polar. I get upset with the large crowds of tourists who stand still with their necks craned upwards all throughout Midtown during the commuting hours. Please, I beg of you, do not take pictures of another skyscraper while I am late to an appointment or am starving and need to get back to my apartment to make food. Speaking of, I'm not a huge fan of $7 boxes of Honey Bunches of Oats or $17 cosmopolitans.

I feel like this is a catch-22 though, as the nightlife in New York is unparalleled. There is always something to do, for everyone's price range. That being said, the city also is a vortex for temptation. In order to survive, one needs a good head on their shoulders or else it is very easy to get swept up in the hectic environment. I've found a good way to clear my mind is a run in Central Park or along the Hudson, coupled with a walk throughout the West Village. These are the tiny pockets in a big city that allow me to find some solitude and a moment to hear myself think.

However, I like to think alot, and the skyscrapers don't help. I'm blessed to live in a neighborhood that borders the end of Midtown and the beginning of the Upper East Side. But I need air. After a self-analysis this past weekend, I realized I need air because of my childhood. Summers on the Vineyard gave me an appreciation for open land and endless visions of water.

I'm a Red Sox fan; always have been, always will be. I proudly wear my Lester jersey in Yankee Stadium and am ready to tackle whatever explative or cup of beer comes in my direction. I like being able to walk wherever I need to be in 20 minutes. The feeling of the Charles come up on my face during a hard run along the Mass Ave bridge makes me feel alive in a way that Central Park can't ever compare to. I like that I can walk into almost any restaurant in the South End and know the owner. With the Vineyard being about an hour or so away, it's relaxing to have an escape route back to family.

The other day I got asked directions and restaurant recommendations for Boston. To my surprise, I knew every street name, the driving direction, and nearby restaurant. That's when it clicked. Even though you really can't compare the two, and I'm happy in either location, one thing will always ring true.

In the words of The Standells, "Oh Boston you're my home."

Got a Secret, Can You Keep It?

Busy as a bee for the next week and then some. T-Minus 6 weeks, and counting including Red Sox games, the beach, city livin', fashion shows, and everything and anything in between.

eeek!

(Got a secret
Can you keep it?
Swear this one you'll save
Better lock it, in your pocket
Taking this one to the grave)

Editorial Exhibitions

Last night, while perusing the Border's travel section for a solid 2.7 hours (no more, no less), I had a thought. After flipping through information on the left bank of Geneve, and thumbing my way from Beijing to Hong Kong in the latest edition of Fodor's, I decided that I would give up everything that I was doing in PR and start my career as a travel writer.

This impromptu decision then led me to pick up what felt like every book in the store that had something to do with living or traveling abroad in:

a). Geneva
b). Paris
c). China
d). Italy
e). All of the above
Secret option f). All of the above and then some.

Needless to say, I went with secret option F. I grabbed anything and everything that went near the topic of "expat" and frolicked to the cash register to pay for my purchases. For a nanosecond I wondered if I should really be spending money on numerous paperbacks when I already own about 20 that I still haven't read, and from a fiscal standpoint, I was at the point where buying groceries was about to become a pipe dream in the immediate future. However, this thought instantly vanished after the women at the register politely informed me that because I tutor kids (at Northeastern that is), I get 25% off my total purchases as it's "Educator Week". If this isn't a sign from God himself, I don't know what is.

With my new novels, travel journal, and fluffy feather pen in hand (as every good writer needs a good writing utensil), I knew that the outfit for my new career was far from completed. I needed something off-beat, a little extra "flair" some might say. I needed....coffee!

I pranced on over from the Time Warner Center to my loyal Starbucks on 58th and 8th, and ordered a venti chai; venti because all pretentious yet starving and underpaid writers seem to have one in hand at all times. I was tempted to go for the cinnamon dolce, however being 10:30 PM with work the next morning at nine, I opted for tea instead. Turns out the Starbucks card gifted from my Dad with "some money leftover," really equated to "$40 + dollars of free Starbucks for Cas," which is always a nice perk.

Vibrating home, dreaming about travels, I began to approach Carnegie Hall and Petrossian. Standing there, waiting for the red hand to turn into a white man (or for no cars to come screaming down 7th Ave), I had another thought. What the hell am I thinking becoming a travel writer? This is SO STUPID. I have to work while in Geneva, therefore will most likely have no time to write down my adventures in the detail that I would like, and morever, I need to graduate first.

Thus, I came off of my paper-buying, cloud nine high, and continued to walk back to my apartment and therefore back to reality.

The novels are actually rather interesting. As for the rest of it, well, I guess we'll just have to wait and find out.

Another Persa Please!

Wow April should be renamed, "Month that Cas was REALLY super busy and had no time to do virtually anything else". Reminds me a lot like the weeks preceding Fashion Week...oh WAIT, we're doing the same thing again except a couple of months later.

Not only did Cas get Loomstate jeans, and a scarf from Carasan, she also had two rings handmade for her. I'm the only one in the world that has these rings, which makes me feel special everytime I put the $3600 worth of jewelry on my left and right hands. My week has consisted of more and more model castings, fittings, and everything in between.

So far we've had great luck with model casting. As far as guys go, we have men who have worked on campaigns for Burberry, Polo, D&G, Rugby, Guess, and Calvin Klein. Oh. Hard life. The women are gorgeous, and one was on Project Runway. This is going to be amazing. To see the men in the show click here.

Thursday My and I went to a Vogue, Elle, and Calvin Klein party. In all honesty, not to sound pretentious, but it could have been a lot better. It was a strange crowd, and the Surface Mag party at the same venue was much more entertaining. Friday I had coffee with an old friend, and then went to pick someone special up in Chinatown for the weekend. The rest of Friday night/Saturday morning was spent sipping martini's and making fun of marriage and reading internet blurbs.

Saturday was gorgeous in the city. I mean, 60 degrees, sunny, the perfect NYC day. Brunch was spent with David and others, as David was down for a couple job interviews with Shahan. Unfortunately no Sarabeth's this go around. Dinner Saturday was by far my favorite, as we went to Vento and had truffle oil pizza and I downed a bunch of persa's. All in all the perfect dinner. Passed out at 10:35 that night and definitely didn't make it to Pastisse to meet David for drinks.

This week is going to be long again, but the comforting part is the upcoming weeks. It's also nice to look out my window and see all of the bulbs and trees finally blossoming. New York has never looked so beautiful to me as it did on Saturday, and I'm looking forward to many more days like that to come.