I hate to rub it in, but in New York we are on the cusp of summer. The temperature has been in the high seventies; all around me I see girls in summer dresses. The season-change generally coincides with the Tribeca Film Festival, now a staple of the social season, and, for me, the first marathon endurance test since the Christmas holiday.
The next eight nights in my diary are booked solid with screenings that start at 9pm, followed by an after-party at a nightclub or restaurant.
Part of me wants to throw up looking at this but the other part of me rejoices. For this excess, this pushing of one’s physical limits, is what separates New York from every other city in the world.
When I first moved here someone told me: “New York only gets really exciting between two and six in the morning.” I looked at them slightly horrified, wondering what I was missing, not generally being awake during these crucial hours. But now I am delighted to be regularly given the chance to be so.
Where else would a mother in her thirties be invited to dance the night away, seven nights in a row? To sip champagne or cosmopolitans with movie stars and producers all night long and talk nonsense about unwritten movie scripts?
A friend and I went to dinner on Saturday. She’s 37 and going through a divorce. “Come on, let’s go out,” she said as our meal ended around 11pm. Part of me nearly said yes, but the thought of the alarm call of children and deadlines stopped me.
In the middle of the night I woke up and checked my phone. She had texted me at 2am: “At club.
Drunk.” I texted back, “Where are you?” thinking a rescue operation might be needed. No reply.
Next morning I called and called her; no reply. Eventually I called her other best friend. Just as we were considering phoning the police, she called and told us she’d been out dancing until 5am and had just woken up.
She felt amazing, she said. Had she met anyone? No, she said, just an old boyfriend. Basically she’d danced on her own – and never felt better.
Suddenly I felt vicariously happy. Next time, I’ve determined – maybe even next week – I will go dancing all night too. Summer is coming; the children will be out of school – and suddenly New York is a really great place to be.
