I have old friends in San Francisco who grudgingly tell me that the High Line is everything that's wrong with New York. Well, too bad. To me, it embodies a culture that's constantly reinventing itself: a defunct elevated railway that was becoming a burden to the city ("we used to climb up there to throw garbage bags full of rotting Korean food at the Hasids!", noted a successful photographer's assistant) becoming a startling example of urban greening for the public good. The expert landscaping makes it feel like walking on a Montauk beach - but a stone's throw from some of New York's most progressive galleries and hotels.

I discovered the Frick my first week in New York, during a heat wave in August. The galleries were surprisingly empty, with only the occasional visitor strolling through the rooms, gently creaking the floorboards. I stood for a while in front of the Bronzino, a portrait of a boy standing against a background of green drapery, and then sat in the courtyard for a long, cool hour.

Great shop for creative people seeking inspiration. Small indie arty book shop selling used and rare books & records. Sometimes there's art exhibitions in the back.

Stocks artists’ books and catalogs along with used and rare titles that focus on contemporary art, photography, and classical painting.

Every seat is a good seat in this small, intimate theater dedicated to dance. Nearly every dance company has filtered through the theater and with a season that lasts about 45 weeks, there's always a performance to see and tickets are very reasonably priced. I prefer a performance at The Joyce then at Lincoln Center any day.