I have absolutely no idea

I know I wrote about the weather on Friday, but seriously, such an incredible change in the city. It’s like someone was holding New York hostage for the last four months and they just gave it back. Every New Yorker has emerged from their huddling indoors to play frisbee in the park, lay in the grass with friends and just generally soak up the rays. Like Itamar says, when the sun comes out, so do the boobies. Sundresses, tank tops, bikinis. In Central Park today, girls were just hanging out in their bras and underwear.

For those people that chose to wear clothes outdoors, it was their first chance to show off their new summer wardrobes. As I headed up Madison Avenue toward the park, I admired the lacy dresses, the strappy heeled sandals and bright-colored skirts that surrounded me.

Then there was me. I was dressed in my thrown-together summer garb – a five-year old tank from Old Navy, a skirt that looks like it’s made of terry cloth, my $10 sunglasses from Chinatown and my Reef flipflops that are pretty much worn through to the sidewalk. Basically, I was in a hurry when I left the house and threw on the first warm-weather clothes I could find.

As I was admiring all the fashionable ladies on Madison Ave, one of them came up to me on her tiny heels. “Excuse me, do you know where the Coach Boutique is?”

At first I thought she was making fun of my bulky messenger bag, but then I realized she was serious. In the midst of all the made up, fancy-pursed fashionable ladies on Madison, she thought I might know where the Coach Boutique is. Does anyone else think that’s weird?