New York New York!

Katharine Meriwether has landed in the big city with a very large suitcase of assorted sponge bob t shirts and vintage kimonos, as well as a new hairstyle. She looks like a very small supermodel in a gray sparkled sweater (thin people need sweaters in new york summer-it is an elite group of the super thin) and linen cargo pants. To top it off, she has adopted a low pony tail with a side part. See Below

Best of all she eats like a horse. Margaret took her for dinner at 5 to a diner where she ate ravioli stuffed with cheese, jello and whipped cream. Then one hour later had her weight in pasta bolognese, and a plate full of broccoli that she ate like it was bon bons. On the streets her mouth is agape. We took her to the planetarium and she was the only kid out of hundreds who kept lifting her hands in the air to capture the planets...I am not making this up- she thought it was three d and she could hold the sun. Only trouble was, I was tired and trying to nap (I have seen this exact show many many times), and she kept gasping and oohong in my ear.

We have ridden on a wild and crazy and frankly dangerous bicycle rickshaw, seen the planet show, gone to the top of the empire state building, taken a boat tour around the statue of liberty (clearly her favorite), visited Dylans candy store, gone to lunch at the Norman Foster designed Hearst building, had a play date in central park, ridden the subway, learned how to dance, taken fat booth pictures of strangers, eaten our way down madison avenue, been kicked out of a cab, and still, still we have not scratched the surface. Woody Allen is playing DOWNSTAIRS as we speak, and I am here writing this stupid blog.

As you can see from the Chinese jacket at top, we really have reached a new level of chic. This is not to say that all has been a linear, progression: today she had a set back as was seen in her fuzzy bear slippers and pyjamas bottoms at breakfast in the hotel. Her mother and i think she bears, at these times, a resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor in some of her drunker roles, and one woman in blond bouffant and face lift did give her a glare, but no major damage was done to her psyche.

K is still not sure which is better for her: Paris or New York, but if they will let her live in the Eiffel Tower, then Paris is will be. She has also said she will trade a week with us at Le Bristol in Paris for a week on the QM2 (I told her they have a pool and a three star restaurant in the lobby). 
So sad...off we fly tomorrow, and unlike in years past, we have no joy of getting on a big ship. Just BA to London.
alas.
We will miss her little pony tail more than we can ever say.