Every Wednesday, shortly after sunrise, I go downstairs and over to the garden near my apartment. I know that one of my closest New York friends will be waiting there, at the same time every week. Then we head out for a long walk down the Hudson. Sometimes we go to the farmer's market, and we’re the first ones there.
Mornings can be chaotic for anyone, especially enterprising friends with kids. Even without children, I take this time to exercise, regroup, and prepare for the workday. A social walking ritual took me outside my solitary comfort zone, but I now look forward to it every week.
A long walk feels liberating and calm without the distractions of a restaurant. Our route along the river allows room for any topic, and because this is a ritual we get right into things. Without judgement or self consciousness, we talk through ideas, challenges, big questions, and keep each other grounded. Then our work days begin and we notice we’re calmer all day, and all week. Friends out east walk with me for hours along the beach (including Nadia, friend of Clementina). After an hour of going up and down the beach, it feels like we’ve stepped out of a Japanese spa.
Lately, friends mention that they’re exhausted by events and dinners where honest conversations rarely happen. Going from work to drinks to dinner (and these friends often go to more than one dinner…) is typical in New York, and it's part of the fabric of creative professions. It’s exciting. It’s exhausting.
Luxury is about rarity and time. It’s a gift that makes you feel lighter. For me, that means nature, the ocean, the seasons, salt air, the sound of cicadas. Walking slows me down enough to connect with those things. And with a good friend, it’s even better.
I prefer a good walk to a scene. A walk is simple, without distractions or validations. I like people who prefer this analog pace. It’s usually a good sign when someone suggests a walk—better than a drink, better than a coffee.
A walk with a friend is often the best thing on the menu.
Same time, same place.