Better Than Sinatra, Even

There is nothing like September in the city.

Nothing.

I love fall in the city just as much if not more than I hate summer here. Even a comparably mild summer like the one we just had is like misery on a stick. The heat is awful, the humidity is worse, the city is disgustingly dirty, there are roaches everywhere, it smells, and everyone is seriously pissed off. Granted, I have never been to Coney Island, but I cannot find one worthwhile reason to be in NYC when the July and August heat is upon you.

But then comes Labor Day weekend. And like magic, the hot wet blanket is lifted. The muggy haze is swept away with a crisp breeze, and the air becomes clear and clean. The sun is bright and piercing, and the sky is bright bright blue. The architecture of the buildings really pops into a skyline, and the whole city comes alive.

Everyone who disappeared into the Hamptons or to Europe for the long hot August, returns reinvigorated after the long weekend, ready to hit the ground running. School starts, and fresh faced children walk jauntily to school. The park leaves turn a brighter green before they burst into reds and oranges, and the whole city feels like it's finally woken up from a groggy nightmare.

It seems like I'm describing a fantasy New York. But really, if I could tell you that unicorns gallop free along the Central Park horse path, I would because that is how joyful I feel. That is how much I hate summer, and how striking the contrast is for me. I'm putting away my fan and drinking some tea and going for a long long walk in jeans rolled all the way down.

God this a beautiful city. If you have never seen autumn in New York, then you have not seen New York.