Manhattan Moves Me: The Spirit of Christmas At My ATM Machine

So I was headed out this morning in my shiny red raincoat and Hermes scarf on the way to fancy Upper East Side hair stylist Joseph at the Thomas Morrissey salon (as in everyone who used to go to Kenneth goes here) and I stopped in at the ATM machine for a cash infusion when the machine promptly spit out "insufficient funds."

Ever since I started banking online I've been in trouble and after screeching, "I have no money" to all standing around the machines, I found a real live banker to help me transfer funds which I then stuffed into my Moschino wallet.

Outside the Chase door stood a woman with a $20 bill in her hand which she was holding towards me because, as she said, "you said you had no money and I wanted to make sure you could buy food." Was this a scam? I quickly went into combat mode furtively looking around for a perp and shoved my kidskin gloved hands tight around my belongings.

But it wasn't anything but a random act of kindness, as my friend Joe Versace would say.

I don't think I looked like a homeless person or a bag lady but maybe instead it's a sign of our financial turmoil these days and the fact that "I'm broke" comes in all forms and even wears furs. Yes, I could have Louboutins in the closet but still have lost my job and be unable to pay a bill. Who would know anymore?

And all this was going through my head as I headed off to lunch at Michael's where one is seated next to Lauders and leaders and you pay to forget how fragile life is as you sit under boughs of pine and holly and eat cookies that add $25 to your bill all the while talking about how long this recession will last.

And that's what we're talking about at the same time all trying to pinpoint the date of a magical turnaround. We're hunkered down taking pride in not shopping Bergdorf or like my family not exchanging gifts anymore. We're not in a Detroit or Middle American state of gloom but we're in a New York state of mind, as the song goes, and this is what we do - we talk about how bad things are even if it only means not shopping the shoe sales.

Or is the suffering going deeper into the very bedrooms of our chintz and lacquered homes where we whisper we're afraid we can't pay tuitions and what will our friends think if we let go the help?

Our streets are packed and we all complain about the crowds but as Mayor Mike once said, "The time to worry is when you don't have the tourists." So even if Madison Avenue shops are not selling, we look bustling and busy with window shoppers. A Bloomingdale's 70% off sale still packs them in but you should see the familiar faces scrambling for towels these days.

We still look great on the outside but inside you never know. Do you?