I'm a huge Japanophile: if there's one other place I'd like to live, it's Tokyo. I must have been there seven or eight times, most recently just after the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami. Anyway, EN is a gem on Hudson Street, serving real Japanese cuisine. It turns out that EN is a chain in Japan; there are a lot of branches making lovely bosky food in cosy neighbourhood locations. But their New York incarnation is grand in scale and ambition, with solid, warm interiors (not unlike if the Whitney were a Japanese restaurant, oddly) - a remarkable hybrid of this city, and the other one that I'd love to live in.

Dead Horse Bay is about an hour and a half from lower Manhattan by public transit, but well worth the journey. There is so much glass on the beach that the waves make a soft tinkling sound as they roll in. It’s a scavenger’s dream, and glass isn’t the only thing you’ll find here. There are still plenty of horse bones to remind you where the place gets its name.

Chinatown in general, I've lived in chinatown on and off for my entire time in New York and i never tire of it’s textures, smells, artificial lighting and grime. There's some amazing things to happen upon there as you trek about your way, a true city experience. Love this little culture shop Aeon, gems of records, art and ephemera tucked away like most good things are.

Opened in 1985, The Herb Lubalin Study Center of Design and Typography was created in order to preserve an unprecedented resource, Herb Lubalin’s vast collection of work. Its goal was to provide the design community with a means to honor Lubalin, and to study his innovative work. The collection also includes work by other eminent designers including Otl Aicher, Rudi Baur, Anthon Beeke, Lucian Bernhard, Lester Beall, Will Burtin, Lou Dorfsman, Karl Gerstner, Tibor Kalman, Alvin Lustig, The Push Pin Studios, Paul Rand, Bradbury Thompson, Massimo Vignelli, and many more. There is also a library of books and magazines about design and typography, an extensive collection of posters, myriad type specimen books and pamphlets.

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.