take a trendy midtown hotel and add some fake snow,bear skin rugs, fun cocktails, and what do you get?

the best new lounge/bar in which to while away your Wintry nights in NYC.


enter the Hudson Lodge in the fabulous Hudson Hotel, located near Columbus Circle on West 58th St. if you’re not looking for it, the Hudson is easy to miss, as there’s no flaunting signage or grand entrance — you have to spot the glowing yellowish lights on a grayish building, and an immediate escalator sweeps you up into the main lobby and into all the fun.

the Lodge definitely met my expectations — which were high, as the promise of a ski bum-esque bar in fave venue not far from my apartment greatly entices — and it opened at the perfect time of year, just as we’re heading into Winter. i went with the singular goal of plopping myself down on that big square bed/backless couch thing draped with animal pelts, and after about an hour of standing around (yes, the only problem was the lack of sitting room available, as all tables have to be reserved prior), our group managed to snag some real estate front-and-center.
ski bunniesAlex, Jessie and me, chilling on the communal couch-bed and singing along to the fab DJs and karaoke. and those fun cocktails we’re sporting? they were called Snow Cones, and they were delicious. if you go, you want to get one. trust me on this.

we were really impressed with the quirky and fun DJs as well; so much so that Alex and i are still talking about DangerKat. any description i attempt to attribute to this girl would absolutely not do her justice, so please, just check her out. she was spunky, dancey, personable, creative, and incredibly unique — we were super jealous of how she could sport a paint-splattered chambray shirt down to her knees and a scarf that looked like a couch throw, and yet be the most beautiful person in the room. the girl oozed personality and presence, and we both kinda want to be her when we grow up. she and her hubby make up the DJ group DangerJelly…and we intend to strategically plan our next HL night around their DJing schedule.


Hudson Lodge was a win on all levels! definitely recommend checking it out for some ski bunny-style fun. it’s the quintessential NYC style apres-ski bar — without the skiing, but with all the Winter fun.


this was the season we’ll look back upon
and say, “something just never felt quite right,”
likely placing blame upon the easy culprits:
global warming and shocks of skin, scarfless and exposed,
our Winter throats pale as apple flesh
against a thinning sky,
against inclement eyes

so we went ahead and fell when the snow refused to,
shooting down such a warm December like an injured dove
a Wendy-bird
a child’s paper love,
feverish hands buried deep in pockets
where our secrets thawed and ached
& when  you said “i could get used to this” and promptly lost your gloves,
i prayed for snow and knew
we’d already frozen over.

when it rains in Manhattan i remember you,
the spoked edges of your practiced poise & charm
springing up like a tattered umbrella
above my girlish (in)sensibilities
and for a moment, i shiverache to hold you close —
before the torrent of my memory streams forth
to stain your once-waterproof facade
like red wine on fine cashmere.

come December, i won’t think of you again.

so please steer clear of Bleecker Street
and the cafe where you locked my gaze
through a watery pane on an April morning,
for i’ve no room for new visions of you
pressed like lingering footprints when my world goes white.

truth be told,
i prefer to save my Winter blues
for safer things
and leave you in my shades of gray.

it’s raining in New York and i am
drinking coffee all alone
in a cafe full of strangers,
telling myself stories about their lives
by their choices in umbrellas

and i think i will remember this in years to come:
how i missed you in such a cold September
when just your smile in this city of millions
could make me more than one.

did you even know i missed you
(when i did)
all those weekend nights of lightning skies
when i dialed with shaking fingertips
just to hear the static on your line

familiar now with the robotic way
you say your name on your message machine
just for (everyone else and) me
even though i know you could have
easily answered my call —
what else could you possibly have to do
on an electric Saturday night in June

& i will awake after staying up all night
like an understudy in a ghost-town dream
where the skyscrapers never quite reach such heights
as we once did,
balancing precariously on each other’s words
like kites flying atop a summer’s wind
in a world where things like gravity & changes of heart
were then still child’s tales of feathers and myths

so i guess that Spring just made our heads spin
dizzy as a poppy’s spell
broken with the stifle of July
& though i said “let’s just be friends,”
i folded up my days like paper wishes in a jar
and left them sitting on your windowsill
to breathe, or maybe to fade —

i guess that part was always
up to you.

please don’t hold my hand that way
unless you plan to keep it, loose and steady in your own
& we can navigate these buzzing streets in just-June
as though we never had a single place to go

soooo, letmewarnyounow:
i have a silly little propensity
for sidewalk pecks and twirling steps
& i don’t stop
for things like crowds and crosswalk signs
so if you’re signing up for some summer spins
and possibly a dip or two
please throw all practicality aside
& just laugh when i say i don’t walk in straight lines
(but please hold me back if the cars rush by)

just get up
come waste your Saturdays with me
watching acrobats in Central Park
with my head in your lap & your hand in my hair
drinking wine from paper cups
while popsicles melt all down our arms
and i am nothing if not where i’m meant to be
just for today

back-flung in the morning grass
we’ll trace dragons & tigers across the sky
and dream our separate childhood dreams
of days before this collision of u & i
(don’t ask what happens when time slides by)
just point me out a butterfly, please
and let me follow her passing wings

& it’s so simple
so laissez-faire, your claim on me.
(oh, did i ever tell you this?
 you’re nothing like i thought you’d be)

i’ve long been a winter-hater.
i was born playing favorites. i guess i could work on that, if i wanted, but i think i’m comfortable in my assertion that “i’ve just always been this way,” and there i rest.
(unless you want me to choose a favorite song, or vacation spot. or pair of shoes, or restaurant…)
okay, well, i’ve never liked winter, except for the fact that it gives me snowboarding. if i could snowboard every day, i’d like winter more. heck, i might love it, and start peppering my belongings with Never Summer stickers (i like them. they rock), and move to Colorado and work at a mountain and become an assimilationist quasi-hippie who’s dangerously close to becoming sucked into the mountain culture for-ev-er. i might begin to forget the demands of a world beyond quaint-and-cozy coffee shops and a small town full of misplaced wanderers who, like me, stumbled upon this valley nook and nestled in without realizing it until suddenly, they knew everyone in town on a first-name basis and could tell where people were by the bicycles propped up against buildings.

oh wait. i did that.
and it was fun. but i’d rather be a surf bum than return to the cold.

so this morning, while swarming with the other black-clad business-attired people in the Financial District on my way to blog work, i spotted (through the clouds of breath fogging my vision) a visual reminder of my distate for January’s personality:

no, not the store. Century 21 rocks my world (and is directly across from my office — right along with Sephora, 2 shoe stores, and my bank. pretty sweet). it was the smirking “22” that irked me. i considered throwing an icey snowball at its shiny face and showing it who was boss, but the city has a lot of spectators. plus, i’m not super confident in the fact that i might not throw like a girl.

but, to be fair, there are a fewwww things i enjoy about this frigid season, and i should pay homage to them amongst all my cold-bashing.
i’ve been excited about these this season:

bailey button uggs. i love them. if you don’t, don’t hate. just accept the fact that you should. and if you’ve never put them on your feet, you have no idea what you’re missing. trust me — your toes will thank you for treating them like queens.

and these:

remember wearing earmuffs as a kid? (any other ’80s kids out there?) these are like that, only better, because they’re not cheap plastic and they don’t mess up your hair or make you look like a martian. (okay, maybe that was because mine were turquoise.) they’re cute. they’re sleek. they’re warm. oh, and the best part — they’re fuzzy. ’nuff said.

flannel pjs. because who doesn’t like to feel snuggly & cozy?

i felt like i had more, but i guess this is it for now. all this trying to conjure up reasons to like winter is exhausting. i think i’ll go grab some blueberry coffee and listen to Josh Radin’s song “Winter”  — because that’s one amazing thing that came out of this season. and not just because he sings about a girl with blue eyes (really!).  just because this song rocks.

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