“New Yorkers love the bigness -- the skyscrapers, the freedom, the lights. But they also love it when they can carve out some smallness for themselves. When the guy at the corner store knows which newspaper you want. When the barista has your order ready before you open your mouth. When you start to recognize the people in your orbit, and you know that, say, if you're waiting for the subway at eight fifteen on the dot, odds are the redhead with the red umbrella is going to be there too.” - David Levithan, Invisibility
People come to New York City for the expectation of the "big." The big city, the big lights, Mr. Big, even. But what they don't tell you about in the movies is all the "smalls." The doorman who will eventually learn your work schedule, your coffee order and that you're more of an afternoon person than a morning charmer--even if he isn't your doorman. You'll have your corner deli, the one you frequent late at night. The men behind the counter will start concocting your "special sandwich" before you can even put in your order. You'll have your place--the coffee shop where you and your friends will meet for afternoon lattes. You'll send a quick text, and within twenty minutes you'll be at the café that has housed work meetings, dates, and even minor panic attacks. Eventually you'll have your bar--the place you don't necessarily need your friends to tag along to, because let's face it, the bartenders are practically your friends now.
There will always be the bigs about New York--the skyscrapers, the view from the Brooklyn Bridge, the big dreams. But there will always be the smalls--and that's what makes New York City so big.
[Photographed on the Upper East Side wearing clothing from Urban Outfitters and shoes by Dolce Vita]