Condé Nast is a hop, skip, and one very crowded intersection away from Bryant Park, so I used my lunch hour to stroll through the holiday shops with a friend. It's blustery and bitter in NY, and as I began to regret my outdoor stroll, I spotted an igloo. Not just any igloo, either — an igloo decorated with bubbles. Clearly, this was the best kind of igloo. And then I realized that it was a Kate Spade igloo, and everything was over for me. I was dunzo. What girl with a very public affection for anything adorable can resist Kate Spade AND an igloo? (I might mention here that the igloo was heated very well). I'd also like to apologize for using the word "igloo" eight times in this paragraph, including this sentence. In my defense, there's no good synonym.
The Kate Spade igloo proved to be as whimsical and darling as expected. It offered a small selection of handbags, but focused mainly on paper goods and winter weather accessories, such as thick scarves, hats, and mittens. I found one of the Book of the Month clutches, which had the Great Expectations cover, and I caressed it lovingly before turning away and crying into my hat. It was such a lovely experience, though, partly because its existence was a complete surprise and partly because it was just so fantastically Kate Spade: cheeky, bright, and cheerful.
