I believe that there are certain places, at certain moments in time, that have a gravitational pull, a sense of magic. Artistic souls feel drawn to these places. Florence during the early Renaissance, for example, or London in the Sixties.. Paris in the twenties and thirties, when Gerald and Sarah Murphy connected their friends Picasso with Hemmingway and the mad Fitzgeralds.
New York City goes thru waves of it. I sat with a blase young male photographer, from Canada actually, during September 2009's glorious, sunny first Somerset House London Fashion Week - the anniversary, the one that everyone still raves about - my first as well - as he pronounced to me, with disdain, that 'London is over, Berlin is the only cool city'. I haven't yet been, so I can't say, but for me, London is still pretty darn cool, and there are some moments, like last week when we - just a bunch of blog friends, of various ages, from all round world - were hanging out at the Breakfast Club in Hoxton and Kit just leaned back on the couch at the moment that I snapped her and Daniella snapped me, which she then posted ('time'). ('Jen said, of my shot, that I looked like Mick Jagger in the 70s, and you'd have to know Jen to know that's a compliment).
Just one of those moments where somehow the sum of the parts is greater than the parts. Or something like that.