Blue eyes shining beneath a fedora, a still smoking (fake) cigarette dangling lazily in one hand, she gently – almost tenderly – brings an old microphone to her lips. As the band’s swinging crescendo pauses for breath, she cracks an uneven smile and leads: “Chicago, Chicago–that toddlin’ town. Chicago, Chicago–I will show you around. I love it!” True words, Frank. True words.
I feel as though I only caught a glimpse of this city, which is terribly insufficient. I’d like to return soon and stay for a weekend. Maybe it should be a three-day weekend, because I could spend an entire day at the Art Institute alone.
Images from L to R: Chicago skyline; Bretzel with goat cheese, tomato, and truffle oil; window display — heels and suspenders!; Art Institute entrance; Stuart Davis’ Ready-to-Wear (1955); most dapper barista award; me in front of the Bean . . . um, being graceful; Marylin Monroe and an eager tourist; Luisa and me trying to capture a pose in the Bean; Richard Hamilton’s Towards a Definitive Statement on the Coming Trends in Men’s Wear and Accessories (c): Adonis in Y-Fronts (1962); Historic Route 66; St. Paddy’s Day fountain (yeah, this post is late); twilight; myself and Francesca as seasoned globetrotters.