After two foggy summer months out in the wild wild west, here I am, back in New York. Back to reality. I’m sitting in McNally Jackson, sipping on an Arnold Palmer and taking in what I would call a uniquely New York blend of über hipster and East Coast bookworm.

They said it would be hot, and it is. They said it might be humid. It’s bordering on oppressive. It’s everything a New York summer should be – bright, breezy and beautiful – and I love it.