Travels in Obamaland: we take our two boys for their first holiday in the vast parish of St Barack, as his first 100 days come to an end. The wave of T-shirt wisdom unleashed during the election campaign hasn’t dried up: one favourite is a sepia image of a group of American Indians, being sold by native Americans in Union Square — and bearing the slogan ‘Homeland Security: fighting terrorism since 1492’. For more portable appeal, try ‘I love my country — it’s just the government that bothers me’.
Joanna Coles, a feisty British export as editor of the American Marie Claire, kindly gives us a dinner at the hotspot Waverly Inn (particularly so, since if you’re a Brit who travelled there in the days of the two-dollar pound, you spend a lot of time hankering for a time when Bergdorf’s seemed quite reasonable). One of our fellow guests was at the Waverly the night that news of the titanic wobble at the insurance giant AIG broke. Having ordered a truffle dish, he thought such conspicuous consumption at odds with the dolorous mood and made to cancel. ‘Oh, just truffle up,’ replied the waiter, sternly.
That turns out to be presidential advice too: he gives a speech during our stay sombrely warning Americans against underspending as the new risk to the economy. So in the spirit of truffling up, we spend a couple of nights at the Plaza on Central Park, where Eloise may or may not still reside in the 50-plus years since her creation by Kay Thompson. Fans of the original children’s hotel fantasy will recall that this is the only Fifth Avenue establishment where guests are allowed to keep a turtle.
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