|rag & bone|
When we arrived for check-in at rag & bone
on Friday night, the woman behind the table asked, "Are your hands cold?"
"How could you tell?" we said as we shook a layer of heavy snow from our hat.
And that was when she gave us a black squishy thing. Yes, it was a hand warmer.
Call us easy, but we were quickly being won over. And once we were inside the industrial space at Moynihan Station, things got even cozier. The room was exceptionally well-heated--tropical almost--with reggae tunes to tap your feet to, samovars filled with mulled wine, and a line forming for gourmet pretzels. Blizzard? What blizzard?