As we cruised toward Manhattan, the skyline rose up like a giant, glittering rack of designer shoes. I clutched my handbag—the one I’d bought specifically for 'Transatlantic Travel'—and felt a familiar, warm glow. Back in London, my bank manager, Derek Smeath, was probably staring at a silent phone, wondering where I’d gone. But here? Here, I was a clean slate. A financial guru. A woman with a "Buy Only What You Need" motto.
“New York, Luke!” I squeezed his arm, my eyes already scanning the horizon for the nearest yellow taxi. Or, more accurately, the nearest Barney’s. “The culture! The history! The Guggenheim!” Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
I stepped off the plane at JFK and immediately felt a spiritual connection to the air. It didn’t just smell like jet fuel and pretzel stands; it smelled like opportunity . And also, possibly, a limited-edition perfume launch at Saks Fifth Avenue. As we cruised toward Manhattan, the skyline rose