I did a lot this year…too much. 4 continents, 9 countries, 7 states, 22 cities, 27 plane rides (21 had an issue) and 35 hotels. I got engaged, got married (planned it all myself), became an aunt, published countless articles, got biceps/obliques/lats, feel at home in 5 cities, made meaningful connections with editors, publicists, chefs, babies, fitness instructors, artists, designers and restaurant owners, leaned into my unplaceable singularity, discovered I was an athlete again, embraced my earnestness, sent more thank you gifts/cards/emails than ever before, didn’t hate the way I looked, appreciated my body for all that it can do (bomb down hills at 40mph, easily run 6 miles, dust men in spin class, side crow), celebrated a birthday in Paris, Thanksgiving in New York and Christmas in Toronto.
I also wrote zero scripts, didn’t manage to get a piece off the ground from October through December, read very few books, got rejected at a breakneck pace, made less money, struggled to find my medium, worked harder than I ever have before and it carried little immediate result. I couldn’t get anyone to care about anything. In my circle there were also more break-ups, layoffs, strikes and closures than usual. Not my favorite year and I don’t think I’m the only one.
So 2024, I hope to do less, but better less. No more running around the world chasing stories, I’m going to let them come, “trust the process” if you will. Let it flow a little more and say no to whole fucking lot. Mediocre press trips, nope. Dinner at a restaurant that I know sucks, no thanks. Writing for publications for “opportunity and exposure” with no budget, oh that’s a hell no, this is my livelihood, not a college term paper. Working with people who are bad at their job, definitely done with that. I’m quieting the noise and weeding out the jokers. If 2023, was about the adventure, 2024 will be about the work.
I’d like to place this boundless energy and maniacal work ethic into something productive. Last year I was overworked, frustrated and unsatisfied. I’ll be manifesting, setting intentions and whatever other wu-wu good juju anything might bring, in addition to working my ass off and entering every room unselfconsciously as me.
For a moment, let’s all get high on a little possibility.
And here were some favorites of the year because I have lots of thoughts, feelings and opinions.
Restaurants
Restaurant of the year goes to Sean Brock’s Audrey in Nashville. From the moment I walked in I felt at home. I had a perfect little table to myself with a chef’s kitchen view. Gorgeous southern veg, some that Brock has engineered himself, but really it was the dessert that was the star, a caramelized heritage grain rice pudding with sage oil and a strawberry sorbet on top that had melted just the right amount. Special mention to a cocktail with the great use of benne seed oil and the killer art on the walls.
Otherwise I loved the West Village’s The Golden Swan. Matt Abramcyk has managed to channel the midtown grandeur, pomp and circumstance of The Grill and Le Rock into the former Spotted Pig. The servers wear white jackets, things are carved table side, but it’s still got a downtown cool factor and intimacy that keeps me coming back.
The Farmer’s Market Platter make the strange trip to Metropolis worth it. Cocktails, service and room make this restaurant hidden within a performing arts center surprisingly actually very, very good. Yes, and it’s also a Marcus Samuelsson restaurant. Weird, I know.
Oh and Philly’s Pietramala is as good as everyone says it is. Philly is the new Portland/San Francisco/Austin. Everyone should go eat there. I lobby for more unpretentious neighborhood-y places to pop-up in Manhattan, maybe an oxymoron, but a woman can dream.
Meals
I am not a progressive tasting menu kinda girl, give me a la carte any day, but in Copenhagen that’s not how they do. If I had to have one ever again it would be at Ark. The thoughtfulness, care and painstaking details in their Scandi, all plant 9 course slaps. Another standout dessert (I think since I never get to eat dessert, when I do they are memorable) was a coconut cream anointed with dill oil, preserved rhubarb and crispy buckwheat. It was layered, crispy, creamy and just the right amount of weird.
I wish Buenos Aires El Preferido was around my corner so I could sit at the bar once a week. Boy Kyle would move to the city just to make this happen. Jose Ignacio’s la huella, where you’re greeted by a host who isn’t wearing shoes and ushered to a sandy candlelit table, is dare I say “magical”. I don’t even remember what I ate, but I remember walking by the ocean after and feeling a G&T thinking this is what living is. Mallman’s Garzon made Kyle and I feel like royalty. They opened restaurant that evening for just the two of us, I hear this happens often enough. We sat poolside, high on South American life and contemplated buying real estate.
Chris Crawford (the woman behind Tart) was behind two more of my favorite meals. Since I eschew anything wedding industrial complex or inherently “feminine” I balked at the idea of having a bachelorette, until I decided I could just have the World’s Best Dinner Party. I gathered 15 of my closest ladies and feasted on fave e cicoria, succulent tomatoes and a huge pile of broccolini. Thank you Chris. I love you. Her dinner series at Dimes was also very special. Never have I walked into a room where the love was palpable. Soo many good vibes and great use of frozen peas.
I also got married in a restaurant! Highly recommend! I will never have enough gratitude for the teams at Dimes and Casino. Was very cool to transform some neighborhood spots.
My tea loving ass reveled in high tea at Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo at Otemachi. I had the whole table side matcha kit and caboodle, but also at least 5 different tisanes, all sorts of dainty cucumber sandwiches, mousses that were set with agar and not gelatin and muscat grapes. Shout out to fellow Canadian Shingo Kido for being the coolest publicist and best jet lagged intro to the city. Unrelated, a certain French movie star also might’ve been staying there and for an instant, while he made eyes at me from across the bar, I indulged our Charlotte and Bob Harris moment. True story.
I’ve long been a martini bitch, but since everyone seems to be these days, my version of the year goes to Tigre. Yes, it’s a “speakeasy”, but they know what they’re doing. No garnish, yes, I was suspect too, but trust, the vodka is cold, the specificity is there and it’s exactly how you want it.
Movies
May December is my pick of the year. As with all films, I went in cold thinking it was a love story between Portman and Moore and was blown away. Performances, A+, score A+, tonally genuinely strange and the script…it was a goddamn masterpiece. The subtext!! It’s the best film I’ve seen in years.
I loved, loved, loved Barbie. I hope its success ushers in a wave of smart mainstream content. Past Lives, Bottoms, Passages and Theatre Camp, all appealed to my multifaceted self. I clearly love quiet sophistication, art house shit, teen content and went to summer camp. I thought Priscilla, Asteroid City and Poor Things were successful and notable. The more I think about Poor Things, the more I love it. The Year of Emma Stone. She’s cool. The against type casting of Ramy Youssef, Jerrod Carmichael and Chris Abbott made me wonder if Bo Burnham was going to pop-up too.
I always boycott a few movies for being too long and too made by dudes, Killers of the Flower Moon and Oppenheimer take that this year. Never saw Anatomy of a Fall, didn’t watch a doc and foreign titles were low too.
My Worst Film of the Year Goes To…
Maestro! Cooper’s below average self-indulgent attempt is exactly why trying to build a career in Hollywood disheartens me. He’s not Orson Welles, he will never be Orson Welles, but man oh man is he working to be. I’m thrilled in 2023 we got a bunch of dudes together (yes Scorsese and Spielberg were EPs) and made a movie about a dude who yes, was a genius, but likely a sexual predator. Cool, neato. Also, can we for once, just one time, let jews play jews? Doesn’t have to be always, but it’s getting a little weird. Between Armageddon Time, The Fabelmans, Golda and now this. Surely there are capable jewish actors right? It’s time to find them.
TV
My show of the year was Lee Sung Jin’s Beef. You hated everyone and that was exactly the point. Give me more Ali Wong doing drama please. Forget Jeremy Allen White, Steve Yuen is my new favorite Hollywood Hunk.
A close second was Benny Safdie and Nathan Fielder’s The Curse. I wanted to hate it, but it’s pretty perfect. The music, Fielder’s full on cringe and just the right amount of making fun of stupid white people. And again, Emma!
Other honorable mentions go to Full Circle and The Bear.
The Morning Show, Platonic, Never Have I Ever and Based on a True Story weren’t masterpieces, but were fun to watch. I’m sad Never Have I Ever is over.
Hotels
Since I stayed at 35 this year, I’m surely becoming some sort of an expert. With Michelin now doing a hotel guide, I have a new dream job.
Bulgari Tokyo was top for its service, painstaking attention to detail and design. I was expecting something garish and over the top, but instead found myself somewhere incredibly tasteful that really incorporated its location. The room service, pool and gym put all others to shame. Bulgari, please start selling candles of your lobby scents, thanks. The housekeeping made me weep is was so perfect.
I loved Dukes in London for making me feel like a true princess. It’s old, full of character and everything is served on a silver platter. Go for more than just the iconic martini, sometimes a place that feels like your grandma’s house is exactly what you need.
Prince Edward County’s The Royal is home to the best hotel restaurant of the year. Albert Ponzo is doing some real actual farm to table in a refreshing Italian way. I’m always lobbying for more puntarelle, especially one you grow yourself. The entire property is thoughtful, with the French press in room coffee, heated floors and design that is functional. It’s stylish, considered and not trying too hard. I love it here, everyone should go to The County. I know Canadians know this, but the rest of the world doesn’t.
Trips
I went on 26 trips this year. I’ve been a traveler since I was a teen, but even to me this seems like a lot. Much of it was alone, with after not doing that for 15 years, fell in love with again.
Take me back to Aspen and not for all the reasons all the other jokers love it. I went to college in Vancouver to ski and now since I live on the East Coast, no Vermont, New York or Quebec mountain can compare. I long for the Rockies. Thanks to Bomber skis (FYI dope skis too) for letting me go to and ski my face off for two days. It was just me, the old men and young buck ski bums on the mountain. Fuck the Hermes sponsored après, I’m in it for the sport. If anyone has any ideas of how to move to a mountain town without blowing the budget let me know because I’m ready.
Going to Tokyo alone is highly recommended. The culture shock wanes and if you can get into the flow of life there, it all makes sense. By my last day there, I finally “got it” and now need to get it in rotation more than just every 5 years. I love the logic, efficiency and a culture that loves to run/work/eat well. The Japanese have this in spades.
Jose Ignacio it’s like if Joshua Tree, the Hamptons and a southern European beach town had a baby. Too bad it takes a day to get there, otherwise, forget Upstate, I’d be looking to buy me a little shack right across from the dunes.
Ringing in my 35th birthday in Paris was symbolic. It now feels like home there. I have my places, know the way of life and speak the language. I’m not only a francophile, but I’m sure much to my mother’s satisfaction I’m becoming the demi-francaise she raised me to be.
That’s it that’s all. Until next year, who knows maybe I’ll find the time to write more of these, but who needs more to read? I think I need to find a better platform, I’m open to ideas because knowing how to write is the least interesting thing about me.