Vogue Sweet Home

Vogue: noun. Something in fashion, as at a particular time.

The very word has many connotations that flash about in ones mind when it is uttered aloud. Madonna. Dance. The Bible of Style at its epitome. To some, it is almost God’s name itself, and should only be uttered with a sense of reverence. I have to clarify that the latter attitude is not the extreme to which I go when I hear the word, but I will admit that the hearing of the word does set my neurotransmitters into over drive. Everything about the word exudes elegance, style and grace. It rolls off your tongue and gently slips through your lips, granting you a newfound sophistication that adds a little air to your step, as if your feet are encased in the sandals of the Greek God Hermes. And to all you fashionistas out there, what better a brand than Hermès to have your feet encased by?

Why this elaborate introduction about the word Vogue you may be asking yourself?  Well believe it or not, the very building I will be residing in is named just that. And it lives up to its name in every sense of the word. As I exited the taxi, (which looked more like a town car, so I’m going to pretend that was what it was because how New York is arriving to your place of residence in that manner?), I was met by two massive golden pillars and a revolving golden door.  I bypassed the revolving door and entered through the side door due to the fact that I was lugging around two gigantic suitcases that contained all that I would (let me rephrase that, all that I COULD stuff into two gigantic suitcases) for the three months that I would be an inhabitant of this city. After I checked in, I entered into the elevator, which were how I imagine the gates to Heaven would probably be like because they were a shimmering gold as well.

As I arrived at my floor and opened the door for the first time, I was amazed at the size of it. Spanning out in front of me was a massive living room connected to a dining room and a kitchen, all of which had beautiful hardwood floors. Two large couches were snug up against the wall forming an “L” and a large tree nestled behind them. Just past the living room was a sliding glass door that opened out onto a private balcony that overlooked the streets below. I had an instant feeling that I was at home.

Two of my roommates had already arrived in the previous weeks, and they introduced themselves to me as they showed me around and pointed out what bunk and closet space was mine. I could not believe just how much space each of us really got and was pleased that my suitcases full of my life’s most precious possessions (my clothes of course) could be emptied out with each item finding its own special place.

After I was unpacked and had made myself at home, one of my roommates asked if I had been on the roof. “What roof?” was the thought that went through my head, “We have a roof?” My roommate and I immediately hopped in the elevator and rode it to the very top of our building. Stepping outside I was met with an amazing view. The entire roof was a sort of rooftop garden, with benches and trees, and was paved with cement tiles. It looked like the perfect place to have a late night soirée like those you see in the movies or an episode of The City.  

When I turned the corner I half expected to see Whitney sitting there, with a glass of white wine talking up her latest designs with Joe Zee from Elle. I did not see Whitney or Joe, but the sight that came upon me truly took my breath away. There, standing in front of me, almost larger than life itself ,was THE Empire State Building. It felt so close that if I had jumped off of our building, I felt like I would touch down on one of its landings. “Only in New York…” was the only thought that could come to my head.