*My first experience at The Metropolitan Museum of Art was a grad school field trip. The university I attended was relatively close to NYC—a short bus ride. My architecture and costume history professors, a classy bunch, often shuttled us to the city where we would either wander around looking up at historically significant buildings, or spend an afternoon in a museum. We made separate trips that year to the Guggenheim, the MoMA, and the American Museum of Natural History, among others. Each was marvelous in its own way, but The Met was my favorite. (A surprise picnic of wine, cheese, and baguette provided for the class by a particularly elegant silver-haired professor at The Cloisters may have swayed my opinion, but only slightly.)
When I quit school early to work, I moved to Manhattan, bought a Met membership, and used it every chance I got. I wandered, sketched, absorbed. Had coffee in the sunny cafe with art lovers from around the world, charmed by the din of clinking silverware and mix of languages. Once I wore a black satin dress to a Met soiree, an opening underscored by a string quartet who sat in the center of the entryway playing Vivaldi. But usually I was there on Sunday afternoons. I never ended the day without a making a solemn visit to the Rembrandt Room (holy ground), and window shopping at The Met Store. So you can see why I would get a little sentimental over this photo of Doodle New York, which I illustrated for Duopress, on display at The Met.