High Line, Whitney Museum of American Art, Pastis, Katana Kitten

High Line

What better way to spend New Year’s Eve than visiting New York City and getting out before the mayhem begins? That’s our tradition — arrive at noon, home by eight.

We begin at Hudson Yards, skirting around the Vessel (closed after tragic incidents) and the Shed, the arts center, until reaching the northernmost point of the High Line. Here begins our two-mile stroll, elevated but not disconnected from the streets below. New York City’s creative crowd really outdid themselves with this landmark.

***Pamela Rosenkranz,*** *Old Tree, on the High Line at the Spur, at 30th Street and 10th Avenue*

*The Shed with the Vessel spiraling behind it*

At journey’s end on Gansevoort Street—ground zero for nepo babies and downtown fashionistas—we find ourselves on the doorstep of the Whitney Museum of American Art. The cobblestone streets of the Meatpacking District now complement perfectly the clothing stores we can’t afford.

Whitney Museum of American Art

The Whitney’s gorgeous modern urban structure lionizes such classic American works as Bellows’s Dempsey and Firpo and Hopper’s Early Sunday Morning. But it’s a current exhibit we have come to see: Henry Taylor: B Side (through January 28). The artist’s range is breathtaking, from home life to street life, memories to current events. Turning a corner we hit the powerful Black Panther installation, an homage to the artist’s brother, an advocate for uplifting marginalized communities.

***Henry Taylor:*** *Fifteen victims of police brutality (L);* *Untitled, 2022 (R)*

Pastis

It’s time for dinner, but since this is New Year’s Eve, dinner is at 4. What better place to celebrate in the Meatpacking District than the French bistro Pastis, which arguably serves the best frites in New York City. The décor is golden with seasonal reds and greens. We have plenty of the crispy fries for dinner along with hangar steak and trout amandine, toast the New Year, and think about going home.

katana kitten

One more stop, though, and an unorthodox one at that. In Greenwich Village, we find the streets a quiet oasis, far from the midtown madding crowd awaiting the famous ball drop. But inside Katana Kitten, a Japanese bar, music pulses and guests engage. The color scheme is red, with dollar bills hanging from the rafters. To fit in at Katana Kitten, you might want to dress like you’re 30 and at least pretend to like Guns N’ Roses. But to simply try a Japanese highball, go as you are. The drinks rock.