I am writing this from the lobby of my hotel which is literally three somersaults away from Times Square. For many, hell; for me, a party because as you may still remember I am absolutely crazy about Times Square. It is now Sunday evening, so I have had the first two days in New York, and let me tell you about those days.

On Saturday morning, I took off at half past nine and arrived at JFK around noon New York time. A city bus took me to my hotel, and while we were driving over Times Square, I saw not one, but three Olafs standing. THREE!! I almost jumped out of the bus but managed to hold myself back just in time. But it should be clear; the mission for this week is to get a photo with all three of them at once. I will keep you updated. By the time I checked in and was in my room, it was around 3:00 PM, and since my alarm had gone off that morning at 5:00 AM, I totally crashed. After a little walk around the block, it was time for a lovely elderly nap.

A nap that, as far as I'm concerned, could have gone on all night, but luckily that alarm went off again, waking me up kindly yet urgently. Because I had plans with my friend Nish (remember him?) to go for drinks. His driver Tony zoomed by my hotel at half past nine to pick me up, which I can really get used to, by the way. Tony smoothly maneuvered the big black car through the hysterically busy Times Square, which is perhaps even more impressive at night than during the day. We went to Meatpacking, to Soho House. Nish was already at the bar on the rooftop, my name was on the list, I tiptoed upstairs, and once there, I immediately felt that excitement that only New York gives you.

Especially at a place like Soho House, which is quite exclusive, you get an instant OMG-I-want-this-to-be-my-life feeling. Anyway, the gin tonics followed each other in rapid succession, and after Soho House, it was time for destination two: No.8. Before this was No.8, it was called Bungalow 8, which you might remember from an old episode of Sex And The City. On Saturday nights, Nish always has a table here with all the Suitsupply guys, who were also there now. I stood among about 20 very well-dressed men in very well-fitting suits, and I felt like I was in a 1920s mafia movie.

At 3:00 AM, when my eyelids really didn't know what to do with themselves anymore, I rolled myself into a taxi and headed back to the hotel. My bed turned out to be a kind of oasis of softness, and I prepared for a night of good sleep. Which didn't come.

At 7:30 AM, I was wide awake and quite groggy in bed, which is not a very good combination. I couldn't sleep anymore (damn you jetlag), so I grabbed my laptop, typed some emails, and forced myself to stay in bed until at least 9:00 AM.

So it is now Sunday, and today I mostly just followed my nose. First more uptown, then downtown by subway, through the West Village, in and out of little streets, getting a bit lost, having a little lunch, doing a bit of work – very relaxed.

At the end of the day, it started raining so incredibly hard that walking was no longer an option, so I went back to the hotel for a set of dry clothes and am now sitting in the hotel lobby with a glass of white wine and my MacBook.

Later, I am going to watch the documentary about Bill Cunningham because I am going to do something very exciting, which I will tell you about later because I don't want to jinx it. So just a little more patience. For now, I will order another glass. Have a nice day everyone!