New York has long been hailed as this magical place where dreams come true, a place where the word impossible is two letters too long. The shining lights on Broadway, the happy ever after in films such as The Devil Wears Prada, or How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days. Everything seems brighter and more obtainable.
People move to the big apple to fall in love, to find their perfect job, and so their lives can attempt to reflect something out of Friends or Sex and The City. Beautiful people with a sense of direction, the hopes of these individuals reflected in the skyline, towering above the tiny ants that dot the streets of Manhatten below, they move silently in a city which Jay Z famously penned as the concrete jungle. I'm not going to lie I would love to end up sharing a flat with Joey and Chandler, having Carrie Charlotte, Samantha and Miranda as my best friends, and falling in love with Matthew McConaughy whilst writing for Vogue, so can somebody please make that happen? Thaaaanks.
Step into Times Square, and you will find a million people looking for the same thing; purpose. From Saturday I'll be one of them. A week spent drinking Starbucks in Central Park standing on the infamous bridge, at the top of the Empire State Building staring out at the possibilities below and paying my respects at Ground Zero.
If I happen to bump into Zac Efron and we fall in love, well that would be a bonus.
I. can't. bloody. wait.
"The lights will inspire you... One hand in the air for the big city, Street lights, big dreams all looking pretty, no place in the World that can compare"
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