SUPERCALAFASHIONISTIC: I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane

Spontaneity is key.

My life just wouldn't be complete without it.

Perhaps when it does come to me however, a little more planning might be a better idea, as its near impossible for me to stick to a plan thats made more than a couple days in advance. ~~But lets add that to the news year's resolutions pile.~~

Last Thursday afternoon I was asked to go skiing on the weekend. My lovely friends are just as sporadic with plans as I am, and what sounds like a great idea often moulds into something different altogether. Nevertheless I decided to head out to pick up some last minute ski gear. Well. Just incase.

Getting the go ahead on friday morning and told that I was going to be flying in none other than a private jet. Yes thats right. I couldn't quite believe it. A PRIVATE JET! Well I couldn't stop jumping around and grinning like an over excited child.

With my flight leaving at the crack of dawn I decided to forget sleep and just power on through after after a boogie at PHD in the Dream Hotel.

Watching the sunrise bright and early at the Long Island Airport. Just speechless.

Forget flight mode. On your own jet, anything goes. I was snapping and instagramming away to my hearts content.

With it only being a short flight I was planning on staying up and looking at the spectacular views of the low flying plane but after about 30 minutes I was out. The lack of sleep had got a little too much for me. Not for long however, with the ridiculous turbulence waking me up in an instance, to see nothing but a obscenely thick fog surrounding us at every angle. How the pilot could see was beyond me, as I clutched to my friend next to me thinking that I could seriously be a goner in a matter of moments. At last breaking out of the clouds and rapidly swerving to avoid almost crashing straight into a mountain, we heard rather comforting words from the pilot, "Oh where did that mountain come from?! Haa". Landing soon after, I was a little glad to have my own two feet back safe on the ground.

Time to hit the piste!

(sadly American's do not use the terms; "piste", "chalet" or "après-ski" so I was determined to use them as many times as I possibly could, in order to get it into their regular mountain vocabulary)

Sitting on the ski lift with these two munchkins we felt like a rather global bunch representing Australia, London and New York all together on one ski-lift sandwich.

Wrapped up in my Canada Goose jacket via Otte and Kate Spade accessories I was ready to hit Okemo mountain.

This was the first time for me skiing in the USA and I must admit, I have been rather spoilt with the Alps but Okemo certainly gave it a run for its money (with the help of a few little snow cannons of course). But a big mountain with some really great Black routes too, I could woosh and zoom like a little ski bunny, without the tiny trains of super speedy European children's shooting past you at 100mph.

Dinner time!
Quick turn around into full après-ski attire we headed off to Simon Pearce's restaurant in the heart of Vermont.

Turning up obnoxiously late after mistakingly going to one of his retail locations instead of the restaurant. I decided to keep the photos to a minimum to avoid irritating the rest of our party any further.

The food was absolutely brilliant. Of course I had to have the cheese soup. Well I was in Vermont and they are famous for their cheddar. I was a little dubious at first, expecting some artery clogging type fondue thing, but after a little persuasion from the group and of course reassurance that it was not going to give me a heart attack, I went for it was certainly pleasantly surprised.

Waking up on day 2.
The mountain looked like this...

Snow - perfect

Visability - nil

Certainly not the ideal skiing conditions.

So instead we hopped in the car and headed to the beautiful town of Woodstock - which is famously known for having some of the most beautiful covered bridges in the whole of America.

To me this is the picture of America that comes to mind in the winter. The bold white houses, grand gates and a glowing fire in the window. Well this was an extremely grand house and had many fireplaces all glowing away in their full wintery glory. But then again this was no house. The Woodstock Inn was our next stop on 'explore rural America', so of course I ordered a gin & tonic.

A few drinks later we headed off for dinner at Bentley's for some real American home cooking sort of grub. Perfectly delicious with that warming home-cooked feel. With the most quaint decorations.