Travel notes on New York—how one editor eats, shops and sightsees in the Big Apple

It is indeed true—if you weren’t already aware—that New York is the city that never sleeps. Even on a just-before-Christmas visit, when it’s supposedly at its quietest, the pavements felt charged. Steam rising from subway grates, restaurants humming at 10 pm on a Tuesday, shops still busy as the light faded at four in the afternoon. I arrived with a loose plan and a long list of places saved, determined to eat and walk my way through Manhattan properly.

Food, as always, set the agenda. A table at Balthazar confirmed why some restaurants graduate to ‘institution’ status: classic French onion soup, steak frites (order the petite), chocolate mousse, all delivered without fuss. Downtown, The Waverly Inn offered something more discreet—low lighting, layered wallpapers, a chicken pot pie that felt purpose-built for cold weather, and complimentary American biscuits that won me over entirely. For quicker stops, Gray’s Papaya, long favoured by Anthony Bourdain, delivered hot dogs with near- perfect snap and a piña colada that bordered on fluorescent. And yes, we queued at Katz’s Delicatessen. The system is chaotic and the portions absurd; surrender to it. A half pastrami on rye with soup is ample for two. It’s touristy, but it’s also good. Somewhere between these set pieces was my first New York bagel, eaten standing up and feeling faintly cinematic.

Shopping in New York rewards stamina. I gravitated towards stores that felt considered rather than overwhelming. Tumbao was a highlight for its tight edit of emerging Latin American designers; I left with a ring that’s since become a daily staple. For vintage, No Standing NYC had the strongest collection of designer bags I found—rows of Fendi baguettes alongside well-kept classics. Westerlind leaned practical but smart, stocking Barbour and Gramicci with Scandinavian labels I’d not encountered before. And for something altogether more intense, Yan’s Antique Jewellery Inc. was like stepping into a vault: cabinets filled with Cartier, thousands of watches, very little room for indecision. Go early and know what you’re looking for. Sightseeing, inevitably, was ambitious.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is as vast as promised; joining a guided tour cut through the scale and made it far less overwhelming. At the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, the building itself—Frank Lloyd Wright’s spiralling design—was the main event, exhibition aside. We cycled through Central Park one icy morning and laced up skates at Wollman Rink, which felt joyfully just like I’d expected. One evening we saw Chicago on Broadway, still staged with its spare, Fosse- era sharpness. It may not be the obvious first pick, but it endures for a reason.

As for where to stay, I split my time between neighbourhoods. Untitled at 3 Freeman Alley in Lower Manhattan is pared-back and well located—more design- forward crash pad than grand hotel. Uptown, Hotel Belleclaire offered more space, a bathtub, and easy access to Central Park and the museums. If budget were no object, I’d add Hotel Chelsea or The Bowery Hotel next time. After all, New York certainly makes it easy to justify a return.