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.

A masterpiece of LGBT art has been restored in what may now be the most valuable restroom in America.

The naked baby dolls piled up in the front window of SEARCH & DESTROY is a good preview for what you’re in for. If you’re looking for something weird, this East Village shop is a good starting point. In addition to vintage clothing with a seriously punk rock lean, they also sell everything from sex toys to Manic Panic hair dye.

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!

Luhring Augustine did a good job of converting an old warehouse/storage facility into a blue chip commercial art gallery that stages four shows of contemporary art per year. Which means you can catch museum quality shows in an unlikely spot, away from all the Chelsea pomp, and it actually has friendly staff, instead of a cold gallerina sat behind a desk pretending to be on the phone.