It is the city that never sleeps, and because Gotham more than lives up to its reputation, every once in a while I find myself fleeing in search of some shut-eye. In South Florida, a slice of paradise, it's easy to become disenchanted with the NY.
The stench of sewage, discarded fast food, and sweaty bodies pressed for space can't compete with the scent of fresh cut grass, maturing fruit, salt water, and wide open spaces.
But on the last Wednesday in June, I skipped across town through Central Park, bypassing the bus, and stumbled upon a fashion shoot for what must have been either an advertisement for jewelry, high-end gloves, or both.
Just below a footpath, I spied a crew, each clad in a distinct industry uniform of black, guiding a very tall, blonde model who was elegantly turned out from the waist up.
A small group of onlookers gathered about them, at street level, as I snapped a few pics on my camera phone. Then, just as soon as they'd set up, they folded the large lighting apparatus, relieved the model of her accessories, and dispersed. In a New York minute, they'd vanished. A fleeting reminder of what makes the city so magical.
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