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A look inside at the windows of Saks Fifth Avenue, NYC

My first apartment was in midtown on the east side. It wasn't quite a cold water flat, but it had no central heating during the winter. Occasionally the roof would leak. My room was the size of a walk-in closet, but it was (relatively) cheap and I was living in Manhattan.

I worked long hours then; it my first job in New York, one for which I was underqualified, and I was frantically trying to learn as much as possible as fast as possible. It may have been the best job I've had. I also tended to avoid being home.

At night sometimes I would take the long way home, choosing to emerge from the subway at Fifth Avenue to look at the shop windows. By midnight, the sidewalks would be quiet; this usually packed area of New York would be empty. I wasn't quite Audrey Hepburn and I didn't linger in front of Tiffany's, but New York seemed even more magical when I had the streets and the windows of Saks to myself.

One weekend, when I was feeling particularly blue, I walked to Tower Records at Lincoln Center and bought a number of opera CDs. I immediately had buyers remorse. To save on the subway I walked home, following Broadway, and then Central Park south.

A white limousine stopped in front of the Essex House as I walked past. I turned to see who it was and out popped Pavoratti. The CDs I had in my hands were by Maria Callas and Cecilia Bartoli, but still I saw it as a sign that my purchase was ok. This morning, yw texted me to tell me Pavarotti had died.