New York, New York

' New York, not like I pictured it. Snow and everything '. In my mind I subconsciously edited the words to the Stevie Wonder classic as I shivered in the taxi queue at JFK. A freak arctic chill and blizzards had descended on the city and it was beyond freezing (even my Globetrotter suitcase was shaking). The purpose for my visit? Meet-and-greets with the publicists who look after all your favourite In Style cover girls. As my yellow cab hurtled away from the airport towards Manhattan , I de-thawed in it's king-sized back seat, and began to relax. Until the taxi driver informed me he'd never heard of Soho House, the world famous hotel I was staying at for my visit. " But I have the address," I said, frantically eyeballing my watch (my first meeting was in less than an hour). With panic rising, I squeezed a crumpled piece of paper through the little window in the glass Perspex screen, separating me from him. We careered through the streets of Manhattan until finally locating the ultra chic boutique hotel in the heart of the now trendy Meatpacking district(yes, as you ask, it is such a treat being able to stay in such a nice joint on business) . When we pulled up outside, I had barely enough time to fling my suitcase onto the huge bed, change my outfit (at the speed of Superwoman) and make like breakneck across town for my first meeting.

My two day stay in the city included meetings with the best publicity agencies in the business, including ID PR (clients include Sarah Jessica Parker and Thandie Newton), 42nd West (Kate Winslet, Uma Thurman) and Wolf Kasteler (Cate Blanchett, Kim Bassinger). As Entertainment Editor on the magazine, it's my job to organise all the celebrity shoots so it's mighty important my relationships with these people are good. This visit went well, not least I suspect, because everyone I met with felt enormously sorry for me, turning up underdressed and sporting a nose that was more comedy than the Comic Relief stick on versions. Still (turn away now if you hate self-promotion) I secured a cover and fashion and beauty stories for future issue. Keep reading to see who they are!

'Downtime' was spent indulging in a passion I'm sure you can identify with: shopping. I hit Gap and raided their boyfriend range (the cardigan and khaki pants hide a multitude of sins) yet, try as I might, I couldn't even muster an interest in stores full of pretty summer dresses whilst my knees were a'knocking. At the Apple store on 5th Avenue (which, impressively, stays open 24 hours a day) I marvelled at the high Tec gadgetry and decided to replace my prehistoric iPod with a shiny new one.

Come Friday morning (at 5am to be precise) I was a little sorry to say goodbye to my room at Soho House, not least because it's bigger than my flat in North London. As I bundled into my last yellow cab ride of the visit, the driver greeted me and we swapped pleasantries. "This sure has been one hell of a cold week," he said, clocking in his rearview mirror my newly purchased bobble hat. Hasn't it just, I thought.