A Glamour Girl’s Time in NYC — Day 1

Departing

Small-town living comes with a veritable host of benefits—among those being an abundance of natural beauty, virtually nonexistent traffic, and a tight-knit community. Among its many blessings, however, small-town life does not include ease of airline transportation.

In order to make it to the airport for my 10:30am flight, I had to set my alarm for 3:30 and spend upwards of four hours in the car…not exactly ideal for kicking off a glamour girl getaway, but necessary. At least I had my curated “Driving to the Airport” playlist on Spotify to keep me company. If my flight had actually left at its scheduled time (not two hours later due to weather delays) I might not be so salty about this fact…but, c’est la vie.

As a matter of fact, I didn’t mind the delay as much as I’d anticipated, largely due to the fact that PDX, my home airport, had recently undergone a full renovation, turning it into as much of a shopping and dining destination as the place I was headed. After a quick stop at the United Club Lounge for breakfast (well worth the ≈ $50pp upgrade, although I suppose their delicious “immunity smoothie” didn’t work as well as it could have) and a quick skim through my favorite NYC guidebook by Megan Hess I went exploring and was honestly amazed by the incredible quality of offerings in PDX’s Concourse E. 

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At Tender Loving Empire (which has locations throughout the Pacific Northwest) I discovered more than a square of the famous PDX carpet perfect for a photo op—I also found treats for my cat Tilly, so she wouldn’t resent me too much for leaving, as well as several items that were so delightful I couldn’t help starting my Christmas shopping a wee bit early. (They also had racks of postcards and offered travelers stamps and a place to mail their missives, so I had a bit of fun with that, too.) I made another holiday purchase at Calliope, a PDX-exclusive variety shop that had me grinning over all of its delightful offerings.

And then, despite the delay, suddenly it was time to board my flight. No glamour girl’s trip is complete without flying first-class, so my travel bestie (aka my mom) and I settled into our seats in the second row and prepared for takeoff. Once we’d taken to the sky (serenaded by my “Flying to NYC” playlist) and admired the beyond-belief views of Mt. Hood from the air, we were given bowls of hot, salted nuts and tall glasses of iced cranberry juice prior to our lunches.

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I was, admittedly, underwhelmed by the in-flight meal service, the quality of which seemed to have regressed since my last first-class flight (and I was also a little disappointed by The Devil Wears Prada, which I watched for the first time and, in my opinion, didn’t quite live up to the hype) but I didn’t care. I was going! To! New! York!

Arriving

Unfortunately, although my flight delay had given me the perfect amount of time for shopping, it was also just long enough to throw a semi-significant wrench in my first evening’s plans. I’d had dinner reservations at my hotel’s restaurant, Nougatine, for 9pm…and my flight wasn’t due to land until 8:00. 

Taking advantage of United’s in-flight WiFi, I conversed with the concierge, who helped me secure a later reservation that I could only hope I would be able to make. It would all depend on traffic…and whether or not the priority sticker on my baggage meant anything at all. 

(Turns out, it didn’t.)

I waited an expected eternity at the baggage claim, growing ever-worried as what seemed to be billions of bags—but not mine—tumbled around the carousel. Thankfully, when they did appear, I didn’t have to lay a finger on them. (Insert cautionary tale about getting a shoddy gel manicure from a new nail salon the day before your glamour girl trip.) My hotel, the Trump International, had hired a car service for me, Empire CLS, and our driver met us at the claim, bearing a sign with my name, and retrieved all four of our suitcases before ushering us out the terminal doors and into his waiting Cadillac Escalade.

It was nearing nine o’clock, and I was exhausted, but the car’s black leather seats were heated and soft jazz played over the stereo as our driver spirited us from the airport to our hotel in what was truly record time for New York City.

Now, I could spend the rest of this blog post waxing oh-so-poetically about my hotel itself. But, since I already did that in an article for Evie Magazine, I will restrain myself. I will say, however, that I had never been so well-received by a hotel reception…not even at the Plaza itself. As soon as I stepped through the door, I was given a scented hand towel and a bag of macarons from Ladurée (delish!) as well as a bottle of water.

Sam, who became my favorite bellman (in part because of his resemblance to Dooley Wilson’s character of the same name in Casablanca) whisked our luggage up to our room, and we followed suit. I’d been given a room on floor number fifteen (out of seventeen) and, even in the dark, I could tell that its views of Central Park and Columbus Circle were nothing but magnificent.

A bouquet of pink roses I’d ordered from Ode à la Rose awaited me, as did a welcome note and box of chocolates from the staff at the Trump International, on the desk. Our room came with a full kitchen, the refrigerator stocked with water and wine (free for the taking) and the bed was already turned down, complete with chocolates and waters on each nightstand and silk rugs and slippers on either side. 

It was, unequivocally, perfection.

Unwinding

Somehow—I’m not entirely sure how, to be honest—we made it to our dinner reservation. Somehow, I managed to get halfway unpacked beforehand. And somehow—magically—I even found time to throw on the dress and heels and my grandmother’s jewels that I’d packed for the evening.

Thankfully, I’d had the presence of mind to make reservations at Nougatine, the lesser of the Trump’s two restaurants run by chef Jean Georges (we would visit the other, eponymous, venue later in the trip) so all we had to do was catch an elevator to the lobby in order to be seated. We were just in time. 

At that point, I was purely exhausted—we’d been traveling for over twelve hours—and quite starving. (Remember: airplane food.) Thankfully, Nougatine absolutely did not disappoint. First came oversized focaccia rolls, so puffy that they seemed nearly like popovers. I asked for seconds. For an appetizer, we shared burrata cheese, served over a purée of butternut squash and topped with aged balsamic, pepitas, and arugula. (The toasted brioche served on the side for dipping was revelatory in its own right.)

For our main courses, we ordered soup (butternut squash velouté poured over black trumpet mushrooms) and chef Jean George’s famous salad (fresh greens topped with seared shrimp, avocado, and a magically creamy champagne dressing). Both were, to put it simply, delicious. I had wanted dessert badly—very badly, seeing as how chef Jean George is credited as inventing the first chocolate lava cake—but I was stuffed, so I had to settle for one of Nougatine’s delectable complimentary chocolates. Some refer to it as a “fancy Kit-Kat” and I would have to agree. I’m not the world’s biggest chocolate fan, but even I was grinning. Yum!

Exhausted yet running on first-day-of-vacation excitement, my mom and I decided to take a walk—we strolled down Central Park South until we’d nearly reached the Plaza, reveling in the warm night air despite the late-October date. I felt like I could’ve walked forever, and the dark night and bright lights seemed to pulse in my veins like the city’s very own heartbeat. But, eventually, my day of travel caught up with me and I returned to the Trump, sank into bed, turned on my “New York Dreams” playlist and fell asleep on a cloud of dreams.

My first full day in NYC awaited me…

Make sure to tune back in soon for the NEXT installment in my Glamour Girl’s Time in NYC…I typically try to blog once a week, but something tells me I won’t be able to keep quiet about my trip for that long! *winks*