ANTHOM’s gallery-like store on Mercer Street is all about presentation, and their selection of pieces from designers like Lady Artigas, Mari Giudicelli, Yune Ho, Marni, and Suzanne Rae is displayed with an eye for design.

Somewhat off the beaten Williamsburg-track, Brooklyn Art Library is nestled on a mostly residential street. It’s home to tens of thousands of artist sketchbooks known as “The Sketchbook Project”. Over 100 countries are represented and their “collection houses books from small communities in Mongolia next to professional illustrators from New York.” You can donate one of your very own! All the sketchbooks have been cataloged for easy searching of their vast shelves, by artist and subject, and visitors are invited to browse what feels much like a hands-on museum. The Art Library also remains one of the few places to find art supplies (while limited) in the neighborhood, and if you’re in the market for a special gift (including books, totes and the cutest retro pennants) for your favorite art-lovin’ bibliophile, you might just get lucky here.

When I first moved to New York, enamoured by its parks and museums and design firms and restaurants and bars, I never imagined that there could be much more to its geography than that. How wrong I was. My first drive across the George Washington Bridge was jaw-dropping - the cliffs of New Jersey are astonishingly tall, covered in a dense thicket of trees. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Drive up 87 to the Catskills or the Adirondacks and you'll witness the Hudson River winding its way through spectacular scenery and unforgiving seasons. Now I can't get enough; just two hours up the road, it's like the city never existed. Perfect recuperation after a long week.

It starts when a friend implores you to eat downstairs at La Esquina, the subterranean brasserie branch of Derek Sanders's Mexican axis of Kenmare Street. The food’s cheaper and probably better at the walk-in-only cafe around the corner from the restaurant’s entrance—a door disguised by a taqueria counter and a sign that reads “Employees Only”—but there’s a certain category of New Yorker who thrives on having what others don’t. A reservationist will ask you if you’ve “dined with us before,” and in general, it takes knowing someone in the industry, smooth talking, or (velvet-rope flashback) looking good and confident at the door, to waltz in at prime time. The reward is dining in a Mexican dungeon as styled for a Vogue shoot, complete with metalwork, distressed stone walls, and water dripping on the back of your neck (though the owners can probably thank the air conditioner for the added atmospherics). Making up the grinning crowd at secluded booths and in private cells (?): a healthy mix of models, cougars, and maybe John Mayer picking his way through red snapper ceviche, cauliflower and avocado taquitos, grilled octopus tostados, or a plate of tuna tartare with a tamarind glaze. If the food sounds light, you’re right; it’s playing to the delicious crowd.  This is, what "The New Yorker" wrote about this fantastic place!

Like Barbapapa’s house with a beautiful garden.