By David Germain

Horton may hear a Who, but the rest of us may hear a lot of hoopla, and it’s not all the charming sort you expect from a benign Seussian world.

By Alexandra Horowitz

Almost every morning last month, Leigh Cordiner stuck a syringe into her thigh muscle and injected herself with a hormone extracted from a pregnant woman’s urine.

By Heather Corcoran

The perennial excuse among New Yorkers who don’t cook is “my kitchen’s too small.” The other day, NYU student Olivia Abtahi’s found a professional chef whipping up a meal in her cramped apartment.

Exploring Where East Meets West

Old and new, east and west, at first glance, Istanbul is like a whirling dervish of contradictions, but a few days in the Turkish metropolis is sure to put this dynamic city into perspective.—Alysha Brown

By Khristina Narizhnaya

The other day at the Met, two women were bent over a computer screen.

“Are you going to write something?” one asked the other.

By Heather Corcoran

This year’s Whitney Biennial isn’t a collection of great art. There aren’t any apparent themes or stylish trends, either. Together, the 81 artists in the exhibition paint a very bleak snapshot of the U.S.A. in 2008.

By Michelle del Rio

Need a respite from the buzz of the city? These downtown Manhattan rustic restaurants try to fool you into thinking you’ve just scaled a peak, picked a bushel of blueberries or splashed in a country lake.

Belle Gray
Lisa Rinna is one busy woman. In addition to her TV work, she owns not one but two boutiques in the L.A. area (in Sherman Oaks and Calabasas). Her Belle Gray stores reflect her laid back but stylish California look, stocking Juicy Couture, Citizens of Humanity and Glamajama. Rinna has also created her own Belle Gray label of comfy track suits and cute printed tank tops. (We’re waiting for Rinna to come up with something featuring her husband Harry Hamlin and “Clash of the Titans” movie, which we secretly love). Belle Gray also gets the prize for the best Web site, as it offers online shopping and handy search tips like “As seen on...” and “Lisa’s picks of the week.”

Week Of March 4, 2008

Inside OEM’s Command Center
The Office of Emergency Management headquarters looks sleeker and newer than most of the other government buildings around Cadman Plaza Park in downtown Brooklyn, but it shares their concrete squatness. The building was first occupied by OEM in December 2005, replacing the former Manhattan headquarters destroyed on 9/11. But behind its apparent ordinariness is self-sufficiency; it can generate its own power and has a camera in the sterile first-floor briefing room that can send out signals on an independent channel without reporters being present. On the third floor is the ominous-sounding situation room, dominated by a long conference table with phones in the center and a starkness that would lend itself to nail-biting decision-making. If the situation room calls to mind “Dr. Strangelove,” the vast adjoining emergency operations center – where liaisons from city agencies, utilities and local universities would hunker down to coordinate efforts in the event of a large-scale emergency – looks more like a Vegas betting parlor, with flat-screen TVs at almost every conceivable position. But instead of streaming sports events, the screens could track the developments in a terrorist attack or the progress of a hurricane. “In the event that something of that scale were to happen, every seat would be filled,” said deputy press secretary Chris Gilbride, indicating the 136 work stations for agency liaisons, configured in rows around the OEM’s elevated command area. At the back is the watch command room, a well-lit hive buzzing with TVs, radios and computers that can turn a Big Brother-esque gaze to virtually anywhere in the city – with the help of traffic cameras and unfiltered data from the police, fire department and Port Authority. —Cotton Delo

By Nycnosh.com

My friend Jonathan owes his happiness to a light bulb. The dark gloom of February and March put him into such a funk that only the restorative power of a 20-minute session underneath a halogen light therapy lamp can fool his body into believing that the sun is actually shining. Jonathan’s made-to-order, $325 bulbs might be pricey, but they keep his seasonal affective disorder at bay, and as he says, they are still cheaper than a trip to Florida. For those for whom a bit of metaphorical sun will do the trick just as well, there is an even more convenient option: Ideya, a pan-Latin bistro on the edge of Soho, with its whitewashed brick walls and accents in shades of lime green and neon blue. Samba pulsates through speakers by the door and around the sleek, minimalist bar. A drinks menu, replete with tropical fruit concoctions, might as well come with its own umbrella. If there’s any place that might make you forget the season, Ideya is it.