T here is a pathway in Manhattan, along the Hudson River, which isn’t a pathway at all — it’s a catwalk. The West Side Highway is where the girlies take their athleisure co-ords out for a spin on weekends, where the 6ft 5in finance bros run only with their shirts off — and where they all check each other out. “How are you finding it?” a friend in the UK asks as I amble along the walkway on the phone soon after I moved to New York.
“Well, the light switches go in the opposite direction here. So do locks on front doors. Then there’s the noise, filth and price of coffee.
But mostly,” I say, as I look at three women strutting ahead of me,.