In the 1961 film "Breakfast at Tiffany's," Audrey Hepburn's character, Holly Golightly, muses that a visit to the jeweler's flagship store on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan "calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it." She continues, in these lines also found in Truman Capote's novella of the same name, that "nothing very bad could happen to you there."
Golightly was right. I discovered this firsthand when I inadvertently knocked over a piece of Tiffany china during a visit to the Blue Box Cafe, the luxury retailer's first dining venture, located on the fourth floor of the famed location.
The crash was neither quiet nor proud. I was mortified, and I know my middle-school self — who coveted Tiffany's chunky sterling-silver jewelry beyond any school crush — would have been, too.
But instead of a proper scolding, my waiter nonchalantly whisked the broken crockery away. "It happens more often than you'd think," he explained. His gaze shifted to another diner, who was struggling to hoist his heavy digital camera over his $70 Tiffany blue dinner plate.
He looked back at me and smiled: "Just don't let it ruin your experience."
The concept of "Breakfast at Tiffany's" has changed dramatically since Golightly's tranquil 5 a.m. stroll down Fifth Avenue in her sleeveless black dress. Now, instead of paper coffee cups and curbside pastries, modern-day Golightlys can indulge their rich fantasies with a three-course breakfast inside the store.
Visiting the seemingly built-for-Instagram restaurant — which opened to fanfare in November of last year — has become a bucket-list item for foreign tourists, film fans and even New Yorkers. The photo-friendly spot, outfitted entirely in the brand's signature robin's-egg blue and white, was reportedly designed with the intention of having guests feel like jewels nestled in one of Tiffany's trademark boxes: A reservation at the compact cafe, which seats only 40 people, has become as desirable as one of the jeweler's heart-tag charm bracelets.
During a quick trip to the Big Apple in May, I was lucky enough to snag a last-minute weekday lunch reservation online. I arrived early to get the lay of the land and, in the spirit of Golightly, allow extra time for window shopping. Visitors must navigate the store's bustling first floor — a maze of eager employees, shiny display cases and ogling tourists — to reach the elevators leading to the cafe, which are manned by white-gloved attendants. En route, I stopped to gawk at a whopping 128.54-carat yellow diamond.