My favorite coffee ever in NYC ! The first place I went when I lived in Brooklyn. The music is perfect, food is excellent. Definitely the perfect spot to read a book on sunday morning and a good work place for freelancers.

A dark (and decidedly hip) bar on the LES, the only light at Beverly’s comes from the glow of its neon signage. The walls of this watering hole are lined with artwork by local artists, but only those whose art has previously been exhibited in galleries. The drinks are cheap and the music is good, and the vibes are perfect for hanging out, chatting, and maybe even getting drunk enough to start a dance party.

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.

NYC's skyline has been drastically changing, and Frank Gehry has added a real masterpiece with 'New York by Gehry at 8 Spruce Street'. It is subdued compared to Gehry's other work, but also elegant, subtle, and delicate. When you stand directly under it the skin of the building can best be described as reptilian.

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!