Adryanna takes Manhattan

Mimi ON Jul 08, 2009 AT 9:15 am

Adryanna Dillon

Adryanna Dillon

This city is full of girls chasing Carrie Bradshaw’s fantasy life. And I thought it was all quite whimsy too, until I met a Russian of my own. Last week, one of Carrie’s dreamy, love escapades became my reality at a party I attended in the Meatpacking District.

On Tuesday, I went to dinner with my friend Liz at Fig & Olive (a restaurant visited by Whitney Port on an episode of “The City”.) The Meatpacking District is chock full of shopping – DVF, Marc Jacobs, Tory Burch, Trina Turk, Missoni, Jeffrey, and on and on and on – and celeb-packed nightspots. (In fact, I walked for two blocks behind Batman actor Aaron Eckhart armed with a Whole Foods grocery bag and those adorable dimples.)

After my fun on Tuesday night, an invite to a private party in the area that Thursday gave me a perfect excuse to go back. I had just walked in to the party in a shimmering high-waisted purple pencil skirt, when a cute waiter with an accent asked me if I would like another glass of wine. “Of course,” I said. And as he handed me my glass, I asked him my own question. “Where are you from?” “Russia,” he answered.

Now this Russian wasn’t quite Carrie’s Russian. Far from Mikhail Baryshnikov, he was tall and didn’t seem overly righteous. He was working so we couldn’t chat too long, but throughout the night I did find out that he has lived in New York for three years, wants to study architecture and like Carrie’s Russian he’s an artist. Before I left, we exchanged numbers. I headed home assuming that I wouldn’t hear from him again.

Carrie & her own Russian

Carrie & her own Russian

But to my surprise, on Friday, he invited me to a movie on a rooftop on the Lower East Side. It was a super cute first date, and I definitely wanted to see him again. Then a couple days later, he invited me to see an art exhibition at the members-only National Arts Club. The scene – chic, the art – lovely, and the champagne – duh! I even danced the Foxtrot with one of the many Mikhail Baryshnikov look-a-likes there.

I couldn’t believe that our second date was going this well. Then, the Russian told me that I looked like Anthony Hopkins. Read it again. No joke. ANTHONY HOPKINS?!

All I could think was Hannibal Lecter. His words dumbfounded me. Speechless, I couldn’t have walked faster to my door. He apologized, but in my mind there’s no way that remark can be lost in translation. Maybe I overreacted a bit, but I saw how Carrie’s romance with the Russian ended. Now I know basing my decision on Carrie’s contradicts my jab at all the SJP wannabes, but the longer I’m here, the more I realize that in this town where anything can happen – including being told you look like Anthony Hopkins – Pass me a glass of Chianti someone!

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