Columbus Has an IKEA!

I fully intended to wait a few weeks to visit the new IKEA that opened in Columbus earlier this month. Traffic was supposed to be horrendous. There was even talk of closing some of the interstate exits if it got too bad.

But by all accounts, the fears were greatly overestimated on Day 1. So I woke up on Day 2, a Thursday, and came up with a last-minute plan -- get to the new IKEA when the doors opened.

The store is in the Polaris area, an easy 20 minute jaunt up the freeway. Traffic was a breeze, and so was parking. The line into the store started to move as soon as we got there. Far worse was the line for the free face-painting just inside the entrance, but I promised Edith.

Finally we were off. The store was crowded but so gigantic that it didn't feel overwhelming. We spent two hours looking at everything -- furniture, rugs, toys, lighting fixtures, EVERYTHING. I came out empty-handed but with a mental list of a thing or three I wanted.

I'm ready to return and so is Edith -- though really she just wants to play in the (free, supervised) play area. It's only for kids who are potty-trained, so if there was ever a reason to train Atticus ...

Adventures in Dyeing a 10-Year-Old Coat

One of my very favorite coats hasn't been looking so bright and shiny. No wonder -- it's about a decade old. Normal wear and tear on a jacket I frequently  use in the spring is to be expected, I know. But even though I still regularly get compliments on the jacket, I didn't feel so great wearing it anymore.

Luckily, the fabric itself has worn nicely. And luckily that's what I love most about it. The color (mint green meets sky blue) was nice, but it was the light flower pattern that I really enjoyed.

So on a whim I tried dyeing the coat. Last week I went into Michaels craft store for buttons but came out with a container of Rit wine-colored dye. On Friday evening, I gave it a shot.

Although you can dye clothing in a washing machine, I was too afraid of the side effects of dumping dye straight into an expensive appliance. So instead I emptied out a large container, fit it into the super old double sink in our laundry room and went to work.

After 20 minutes of stirring and some additional time rinsing it, followed by a run through the washer and dryer, this was the outcome.

Love it! There are a couple of small splotches (possibly unnoticed before the dye job, or maybe caused by uneven stirring or the fact that I added the splash of detergent to the dye mixture too late!), but I'm seriously pleased with the result. Here's hoping the coat lasts another 10 years!

A Short North Gallery Hop Saturday Night

The Short North Gallery Hop is one of my favorite events in all of Columbus.

It's not because I love the galleries so much. In fact, they are almost an afterthought. What I do love, however, are the people, the shops and the excitement.

Gallery Hop takes place the first Saturday of every month in the Short North arts district near downtown. The shops and galleries are open late. The restaurants and bars are as crowded as the sidewalks outside of them. All corners of Columbus come out, from the quirky and weird to the sleek and sophisticated.

I fall in neither category. That was especially true in August, when Paul and I attended our first Gallery Hop since returning to Ohio, this time pushing a stroller. We weren't the only ones there with a baby, but the addition did make browsing more difficult. One of us would stay with Edith on the sidewalk while the other went into the shop.

Nevertheless, it was fun. I was especially impressed by the number of new bars and restaurants that have opened in the Short North. I had only a passing thought about how long it will take to try everything now that we have a kid. No regrets, but the sight did accentuate our changing circumstances.

But maybe I'll get to start on the to-do list this weekend. On Saturday, Paul's staying home with Edith while I attend Gallery Hop with a friend. It's as close to old times as I'm going to get for a while, and I'm very much looking forward to it.

Paul's New Shirt vs. My New Shirt

In his speech at our wedding, Paul's best man expressed surprise at how two people with such different movie collections could come together.

• Me: "Sense and Sensibility"
• Paul: "Shaft" 
• Me: "Pride and Prejudice"
• Paul: "Children of Dune"

Our differences were again on display in December, when we went to my absolute favorite store in Columbus, Wholly Craft. I've gotten three of my favorite shirts there and was looking for another. Paul, on the other hand, was on an even more specific mission. He wanted a shirt he saw when we went there the year before.

We both were successful. Perhaps you can determine whose shirt is whose.

New Yorkers Know How to Bag Groceries

Everybody has a story like this:

The bagger at the grocery store put four cans of black beans on top of your loaf of bread. Or bruised your apples with a jar of applesauce. Or broke an egg with a clumsily placed ice cream carton.

I've never had that happen in New York, which has led me to a theory. New York City simply breeds better baggers.

My better bagger theory continues. They're bred out of necessity.

In Ohio, upstate New York or anywhere that customers commonly have a set of wheels at their disposal, groceries go from cart to trunk to grocery table. The handles on those cheap plastic baggies are used for a minute or two at most. Even if the black beans are bagged with the bread, you can just rearrange it in the car.

No such luxury in New York City. Those bags have to hold up to a 10 minute walk. Baggers here have it down to a science. The bags are never so full that they rip on the trip home. And just as important, they're never too empty. It's annoying to loop six handles through each hand when I leave the grocery store and then again after I sit them down on the floor to unlock the apartment door. Each bag better have in it more than just a stick of butter.

The expertise of New York baggers came home to me a couple of months ago. I stopped at Rite Aid to pick up a bale of toilet paper. It was so big and soft that it would have been right at home in a hayride.The bale allows me to go a long time between purchases, but it's generally really annoying to carry home. This time, however, the bagger stuffed it into a standard plastic bag while rolling a second plastic bag into a snake. She tied each end of the snake to the handles of the bag holding the toilet paper, thereby fashioning another handle for the bag. Kind of like a big toilet-paper-only purse.

I actually complimented her on her bagging skills.

Shoe Shopping & Sewing Machines in Soho

Shoe shopping in Soho.

Say that three times fast.

It's a lot easier to do than to say. For about two miles, from the Financial District to Union Square, Broadway is dotted with shoe stores. Last Thursday I spent two hours after work popping into most of them.

The most interesting store I saw, however, wasn't a shoe shop at all. It was the clothing store All Saints, which had an eye-catching display of dozens of sewing machines lining the window and inside wall. The view almost made up for me coming home empty-handed.

Vogue vs. Me: Dressing in New York

I'm not the most fashionable dresser.

Yeah, you've probably noticed.

I think/hope I'm not the worst dressed on the block, but I know I'm not the best. I don't flip through fashion mags, and I don't buy high-end clothing or even their cheaper knock-offs. I like to think I dress neatly but conservatively, in clothes that fit my body type. But as for a pair of skinny jeans? I couldn't bring myself to take them any further than the dressing room.

Amid all of the excitement of moving to New York two and a half years ago, I must admit I was worried about my clothes. Hey, I may not spend much time on my wardrobe, but I'm still a girl. I knew the city wasn't completely filled with Carrie Bradshaw wannabees-- more like 50 percent, right? As I quickly found out, it's much, much less. In fact, practically non-existent in most neighborhoods and exactly all of the restaurants and bars I frequent. Clans stick to their own, I guess, and I'm not in with the Vogue crowd.

I remember the exact moment I knew I was going to fit in just fine. I was coming into the city one August day from LaGuardia by myself -- Paul had flown in earlier in the day for the job interview that eventually brought us here -- and I noticed a girl about my age in a simple dress that I can only describe as bohemian hipster. I can't even remember what it looked like, but I do remember thinking that she had the same tired damn-it-all expression I would have used on a hot, humid, below-average morning in Ohio. Heck, there are so many Midwestern transplants in New York, that she might have been from Ohio.

In any case, my point is this: this girl made me realize that New York is just another city. It's buildings are a little taller and its inhabitants live a little closer, but everyone's still just trying to get on with their lives. There's just better food in New York to help us do it.

I don't shop at Barney's or Bloomingdale's. I still wear sneakers far too often and heels far too little. But I don't feel out of place. I'm just a grain of sand in the fashion mecca of New York, and that's okay by me.

From Bathhouse to Marketplace

Brooklyn Lyceum

Flea markets, I'm finding, are one of the best ways to see the old buildings of Brooklyn.

First, I took something of a self-guided tour of the historic Williamsburgh Savings Bank Tower when I visited the Brooklyn Flea a few weekends ago.

Last Sunday I got off the subway one stop before the Flea and went to the Brooklyn Lyceum's Spring Food and Craft Market. The vendors were similar -- Etsy-type crafts and lots of delicious food -- but the venues couldn't have been more different.

The bank location is gigantic, with huge ceilings and a large mural on one wall. The architecture was amazing -- it almost looked like a church rather than a former bank.

The lyceum -- formerly Public Bath #7 -- was much more cramped and crowded, but the building was just as interesting.

According to the lyceum's website, the 100-year old building once held the largest indoor pool in the country. The building, now a cafe/theater/gym/building-available-for-rent is a bit shabby in the corners, but with lots of personality -- and a surprising amount of natural light.

I tried a few samples (like a yummy piece of coconut truffle) and wished I had tried a few more (bacon marmalade, anyone?). Other than that, I left empty-handed, but I left intrigued about a block of Brooklyn I had never before given a second glance.

An Afternoon at the Brooklyn Flea

A flea market in Brooklyn can't be a simple affair.

Oh, no. It must have vintage clothing, handmade jewelry and, of course, critically-acclaimed food. Not that I'm complaining. I can think of a lot worse ways to pass a Sunday afternoon than thumbing through one-of-a-kind necklaces and eating delicious Central American food.

Paul and I had been to the Brooklyn Flea once before, in its outdoor location in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Fort Greene. Now that the weather's warmer, the market is still there on Saturdays, but it moves indoors to the old Williamsburgh Savings Bank building on Sundays. I wanted to go to the flea market almost as much for the building as for the shopping. So yesterday we went.

It didn't disappoint. The space was both giant and dramatic -- columns, arches, and even a giant mural. I'm pretty sure the neighborhood TD Bank doesn't look like this inside.



Most of the food stalls were downstairs, in the bank's old vault. I've never seen doors so thick.


We skipped the booths selling lobster rolls and gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches. Instead, I opted for pupusas -- one filled with zucchini and another with beans and cheese -- with a side of pickled cabbage.


Paul got in line at Asiadog and ended up with one hot dog topped with pork belly and onions, another with crushed potato chips, spicy ketchup and jalapeno mustard.


Best of all, I left the Brooklyn Flea with a necklace and a chocolate croissant. A day well spent, indeed.

High-End Shopping on Fifth Avenue

I'm not a Fifth Avenue type of girl.

Never been to Tiffany's. Or Barney's. I've been to New York's flagship H&M store, but it's too reasonably priced, so I don't think that counts.

Earlier this month, I added two more Fifth Avenue retailers on the "visited" list.

The first was for Paul- an Omega store with watches so expensive I'm not sure they even had price tags. Paul tried on two and dreamed. Then we went to nearby Takashimaya.

Takashimaya is a Japanese department store, and its only U.S. location is on Fifth Avenue. I somehow heard or read about it after our vacation in November, and I wanted to check it out.

I can pretty much describe it in four words: High class, high prices. It was small-- seven floors, but each floor wasn't much bigger than a tennis court. For the most part, it was like any high-end store, with a few Japanese touches, like the chopsticks for sale and a plush sumo wrestler in the children's section.


The lower level had a selection of teas and Japanese treats, but I unfortunately couldn't find any of the pounded rice treats I loved so much on vacation.

I was obviously browsing-- something I normally hate to do. But this was actually a pleasant shopping experience, even if I didn't leave with a treat for myself. Paul may have been dreaming of watches that night, but my thoughts were on Japanese handbags.

Bargain Shopping for the Holidays in New York

Sure, New York has the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.

But you can see some pretty lights without the crowds (and with some better deals) at Century 21.

Century 21 is New York City's answer to Filene's Basement, only better. Well-known brands at such deep discounts means there are as many tourists there as locals. Luckily, I'm close to both the Brooklyn and Manhattan locations-- one is about six blocks from our apartment, the other is less than two blocks from my office.

Whenever anyone says shopping in New York is expensive, all I have to do is point to Century 21. It's not Prada or Tiffany's, but it does have an excellent shoe selection and a coat department I could spend all day in.

And at Christmastime, it's even better-- at least at the Manhattan store. It's decked out in red bulbs and flashing white lights that make me feel festive and looser with the pocketbook. At least that's what they're hoping.

J.C. Penney Takes Manhattan

Even a red carpet for J.C. Penney and (possibly) Miss Universe

J.C. Penney.

In Ohio, it's just a run-of-the-mill department store you find in almost every mall.

In Manhattan? It's a big deal.

That's the conclusion I came to Saturday when I visited Penney's first Manhattan store, which opened on July 31. I'm not a huge fan of the store, but I got a $10 coupon on a $10 or more purchase, and who am I to pass up a deal like that?

So I made my way to the Manhattan Mall (yes, Manhattan has one honest-to-goodness mall), just a stone's throw from Macy's in Herald Square. I don't know about you, but I've never had to wait in line to enter a Penney's. Yes, I waited in a 5- to 10-minute line just for the privilege of boarding the escalator that took me to the store.

Granted, I think most of the people just wanted to catch a glimpse of whatever model was outside the store entrance (Miss Universe, I believe), because the store itself was crowded but not overwhelmingly so. Even still, I couldn't help but mentally wag a finger at myself for waiting in line for a Penney's when New York is saturated with so many more interesting stores.

The store was about like every other Penney's you've ever visited, except with lower ceilings and better dressing rooms. There was actually a comfy chair and three-way mirror in every dressing room, making me long for such a space at home.

In any case, I walked out with some pj's, fulfilling my stated goal of using the discount. I'm not sure I'll visit again -- surely not when it's so crowded -- but it is kinda nice to know there's a down-homey store at my disposal.

Pharmacies: What They're Really For

Ohio is the one-stop shopper's dream.

I wistfully remember the days when I could buy tofu, toilet paper and socks all at the same store. Want a rake with your round steak? A casserole dish with your computer desk? One visit to Meijer or Kroger and it was all taken care of.

Not so in New York. The grocery stores here are so small they barely hold basic staples. Everyday, medicine-cabinet items like shaving cream are literally behind lock and key if they stock them at all.

In Ohio I visited a pharmacy maybe every other month when it had good deals on batteries, leftover holiday candy or some other equally random item. Now I'm a regular at Rite-Aid or Duane Reade for basics like paper towels, deodorant and toothpaste.

I had to move 500 miles to learn that drug stores were not merely for discounted chocolate. Who knew?

How I Got My New Rain Boots

Snow and sleet was predicted to fall Wednesday after midnight, so I wasn't surprised to wake up and find the roads and sidewalks a white, slushy mess. Lacking a pair of rain boots, I slipped on my one pair of non-tennis shoes that seem to be waterproof.

I walked the four blocks to the subway and waited until I descended the stairs to stop and retrieve my Metrocard from my purse. When I lifted my foot: trouble. The entire back of the sole had come loose from one of my shoes.

I couldn't very well return home, else I probably would have been late for work. In any case, I thought I could make it to work and then patch it up with some tape or glue before I came home and threw them away. Worst case scenario, I'd pick up a cheap pair of shoes during my lunch break.

I tried to move my foot as little as possible during my commute. People probably thought I had a bum leg since I tended to drag my foot instead of lifting it and making the sole come off even more.

The stairs were my downfall.

I have to climb a few dozen at the end of my commute. By the time I was across the street from my office, the sole was attached to the rest of the shoe by just an inch of leather. Or plastic. Or whatever the shoe was made out of. (Something cheap, evidently.) I nimbly walked through the puddles into the lobby without getting my foot wet.

I met a coworker saw my predicament. Luckily she happened to have a pair of tennis shoes in her office that happened to fit me quite well.

Needless to say, I bought a pair of olive rain boots during my lunch break.