Last week was a curate’s egg and no mistake. I flew in from my grande luxe trip to the Dominican Republic on Sunday night and, paralysed with homesickness for maybe the first time in my life, moped for most of the week, sobbing at inappropriate intervals, avoiding the telephone and wondering if I had made an epic error in returning to America, when work was going unbelievably well in London, my parents’ hideous divorce was dragging on, and Posetta Baddog needed me.

Monday slipped by, and I was only forced out of my friend’s apartment in Carnegie Hill on Tuesday by the pressing combination of a garment bag of Oscar de la Renta samples to return, an empty fridge and a dead, charger-less Blackberry. I can’t remember what I did for the rest of the week. I certainly didn’t blog much, so I presume I was holed up in the apartment moping & watching House on

This enormous billboard in Times Square, which I passed on the way to the Garment District on Tuesday, didn’t help on the cheering front:

Liberty New York

I had a drink at The Algonquin on Wednesday night with the volcano-stranded Ms Churchwell, and by Thursday morning I was calling in Tania’s Perspective Police. I shot out of the apartment like a bullet to  lunch in SoHo with a charming publicist, determined to accept that I was in New York and that that was categorically A Good Thing. Supper with  the also volcano-stranded Ms Dixon at The National on Thursday night helped stopped me climbing the walls.

And I did have a film premiere to go to on Friday evening. Shiny doesn’t cure all ills, but it certainly helps wallpaper over the cracks. Frocked up, hair curled, red lipstick defiantly slicked on, I headed to Chelsea for the TriBeCa Film Festival’s showing of Vidal Sassoon: The Documentary in a positively buoyant frame of mind. (Great film, more to come of this later.)

And God bless my NYC friends for their cheering properties. Dearest S, who I haven’t seen for six months, picked me up at Soho House afterwards, and escorted me to The Standard for the after party.


Packed to the rafters with interesting people,  with rivers of vodka flowing, & a wonderful view over the High Line and the Hudson River, it really would have been churlish not to play my A game.

Ebullient S, of course, had a slew of plans in motion  as the evening progressed, so we hit up some friends in Soho House, followed in quick succession by a hideous bar in the hell that is the Meatpacking District on a Friday night, a French house party in, erm somewhere…Chelsea maybe? hazy with cigarette smoke, where I caught up with more friends, then Hudson Terrace in Hell’s Kitchen for another French party and lots of tipsy dancing and other shenanigans.

Which is how I found myself being whirled around the dancefloor by fantastic dancer, E, …and was rather surprised when the photo above appeared on a stranger’s Facebook, much to the glee of my friends.

I awoke on Saturday with a cracking hangover, and in a much better frame of mind.

Manhattan is out there, and it’s up to me to make the most every moment. No more lurking in my apartment

Top photograph: Black Paradise chiffon & beaded dress by French Connection £135 /$149 (on sale in US)

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Homesickness can cripple when it hits. But it sounds like you have dealt with it in the most reasonable way. And now you’re moving back towards NY love! Just remember, if you choose to go back to the UK, you always can. Freedom to choose can help in these moments.


@BeckiS & @K-Line – you are both so right. This isn’t an irrevocable decision. Onwards! LLGxx


Thank you for the inspiration. Your post perked up my day and inspired me to make plans for drinks at The Breslin tomorrow. Stop by if you’re free 🙂 (added by Mobile using Mippin)


aw thanks @veronica! LLGxx


Hahaha WICKED* photo! He looks quite the lothario and a multi-tasker to boot (able to dance, pick people up and sing/growl at the same time?!).

Aw bless it must be so difficult to go back what with everything going on and the family home and your old home on the market…it’s only across the pond though, and it’s not an irreversible decision. You must be doing the best thing for you even if there’s a wobble here and there.

LOVE watching House online! Hugh Laurie, who woulda thought it…

*haven’t used this ‘adjective’ for at least a decade, apols


Ah@BeccaS, I need to break the news that the lovely E does not bat for our side – hence his extremely WICKED dance moves! LLGxx


I feel for you over the divorce of your parents, having lived through the divorce of my in laws which seemed to last ten years, as it involved a business. My husband although in his thirties suffered terribly , as he was also running the business but without security as they held the majority shares between them.. Each trying to get him on their side for his controlling interest..nightmare. I sometimes think divorce is more difficult when you are an adult as you understand more and watching your parents dislike of each other is soul destroying. I think you are in the right place, it sounds amazing and with good friends you will be able to get on with your life and have some fun..Which is how life is supposed to be
Sending love Ruth xx


We should start sending you care packages from Liberty’s to help cure the homesickness. Although they can’t really beat a hot French boy!


Oh dear. It does make sense, things having been such a whirlwind lately. And also, having made some HUGE decisions (selling the flat, shipping or giving way or selling possessions from your own and your family home etc), it is perfectly natural that you would come down to earth with a bit of a thud. Big moves can be much more frightening when it is a REAL move, not just a short-term fling with another country. K-Line and Becca are absolutely right, nothing is irreversible and although you have more permanence now, that doesn’t mean you can never change your mind again. Keep thinking of it the way you did when you first moved over, if that helps, before you begin to feel at home again. And London is only a flight away 🙂 x


I have to say I really missed these kind of posts. Good on you for making the most of where you are.
And this is indeed a fabulous picture!
xx MM


That is a WICKED photo. x


I agree that these are the posts I like to read most too. Probably because I am green with jealousy when you are in Oscar de la Renta frocks in the Dominican Republic. But too many cocktails and dancing with men who don’t “bat for our team,”–well, that is more within my realm of possibilities. The cocktails part is at least, most of my dancing days now are with a charming three year old. Chin up and I hope your homesickness subsides thanks to your friends.


Go easy on yourself—your parents’ divorce and moving are HUGE life changes. You needed to grieve for awhile. It will get better, I promise.

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