Amy pulled her thin coat around herself. The wind was tugging at her skirt – she hadn’t been exaggerating when she had told Georgia that New York could be one of the coldest places on earth. When the wind blew past Liberty Island, across the Hudson Bay and up through the concrete canyons of downtown, it only seemed to get colder on the way.‘Brrrr!’ she said, stamping her feet. ‘Are we going far?’Georgia smiled. ‘Far? But my dear, we’re already there.’Amy looked up at the building in front of them, a huge limestone pile almost grand enough to rival the Frick. She glanced at the small type either side of the arched doorway.‘Ralph Lauren?’‘My New York friends assure me that this is the most elegant store in the world.’‘But I can’t go in there,’ said Amy.‘Why ever not?’‘Well, for one thing, I can’t afford anything they sell.’‘You’re a woman, Amy,’ said Georgia. ‘I’m sure that’s never stopped you before.’‘That’s exactly what I’m worried about,’ she replied, immediately picturing some snooty sales assistant railroading her into buying a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes she’d spend the next two years paying off.
