It’s a gloomy Sunday; I’ve just returned back from the opening of the new MGM Grand Hotel at Foxwoods in CT. It was a lavish, wild event that left me with little sleep and sore calves from dancing all night. I need coffee. I throw on my favorite jeans, the softest sweater I can find, and grab an umbrella on the way out because the sky looks like it wants to cry.
Five minutes later, I step from Ceci-Cela patisserie onto Spring St with my cafe au lait to go. It is now raining, hard. So grateful for this coffee, and so disinterested in balancing an umbrella and coffee (I always spill it on myself), I decide to wait it out under Ceci’s blue awning. The rich buttery scent of delicious things baking – croissants, tarts, brioche-wafts up from Ceci’s basement, whose hatch doors are open next to where I stand. Across the narrow street, Spring Lounge is filled with friends meeting up for afternoon beers, or marking the end to a day of shopping. People walk by briskly, many without umbrellas, complaining of the gloom. “Another beautiful day in New York,” utters an unhappy-looking man in a crisp British accent. I take a long sip of hot coffee, feeling it warm up my body. The rain taps on the awning above, and I watch, contentedly, as the world goes by. I agree completely.