Gone are the days of pretending I am a marathon runner who needs not the third party aid of caffeine on the account of sufficient natural energy. Long live the French roast! I love coffee more than what’s her face loved her Prada backpack and I have proof. It’s stained across at least six of my favorite white blouses, all of which I have yet to retire (crimes of passion, I call these blunders) and guesstimate I will not until soy sauce does us part.
Let me ask you a question: how much coffee do you consume daily? I ask because we’re putting together a Man Repeller guide to the best iced coffee in New York City and as a result, I’ve been consuming at least three cups daily (when hard hitting journalism calls, I never put my phone on silent) whereas, if I’m being really honest with not just myself but humanity at large, I only typically drink the liquid acid until the point of poop, which arrives like clockwork at 10am daily, at which intersection I lose interest faster than that guy, who was in therapy for losing interest in women after he slept with them, lost interest in Carrie Bradshaw, incidentally after they slept together, during season three of Sex and the City.
I’m sorry, what?
Currently, I feel not vaguely but saliently off my rockaAaAaAaAa. This post comes immediately following sip #4 of iced coffee #1, from Gasoline Alley on Lafayette Street. Said outpost has proven itself most pungent in and around Noho — it does this nutty thing (literally, there are hints of the flavor of nut, and I don’t mean genitals!) that keeps you going back though it also loses at least two points on a scale from 1 to 10 because of its almond milk deficiency. It might actually recuperate both those points based simply on the fact that if I wasn’t chained to this desk like an accountant during tax season, there is a 0% chance that I would not be up and running around, much the same way I did on that day Amelia and I tried The Sugar Diet. And you know how I feel about being up and running around, right?
Great. I feel great about it!
Mayo Clinic says I’m good for up to four cups of brewed coffee daily but somehow I think they’re overestimating my body’s relationship with the stimulant, chiefly because I experience all of the symptoms they say occur after cup #4 by the early stages of cup #2 (e.g. restlessness, fast heartbeat, it doesn’t say headache but I get some of those too) so I’m just curious about whether you’re on that page with me, too. How much coffee can you consume before you feel like your heart is about to explode out of your chest? And when the 5 o’clock sleepy face comes around and your body is rejecting your mind’s suggestion to endure cup #whatever (that’s number, not hashtag), WHAT DO YOU DO?
Asking for a friend.
— Leandra Medine
Image Courtesy of Vogue.com, shot by Milton Green, 1953