"But I see Homeless People at Bus Stops"...

...is the reaction I got from my roommate when I told her that on my way to the 6 train in Manhattan, I jumped on the Lexington Bus Line instead.

Since becoming a slave to a full-time job, my daily issue, along with 11 million other subway-riding New Yorkers, is making a smooth transition out of digging for my Metrocard while zipping down the stairs, swiping correctly on the first try, passing through the turnstile without getting my purse stuck, and then contorting my body in a way that squeezes me into the train before the dirty doors inevitably crush my snowy white Marc Jacobs bag.

Day after day I have had to accept the harsh reality that if I climb into the subway donning anything white, I will emerge a slight shade of gray. Granted the seasons have turned and white is no longer a dominant color, I do not appreciate my collection of newly-grayed possessions: 1 satin Coach hobo bag, 1 Max Azria bustier, 2 leather BCBG stilettos, 1 Michael Kors purse, 1 silk wristlet, 1 Chanel wallet, 2 summer dresses, and I won't even mention the condition of my Essie Ballet Slipper Pink nails. For readers who don't take the subway, the staining is comparable to hugging a dirty chalk board while wearing a black sweater.

Today I was on my way to work in a white cropped jacket, already plotting maneuvers around pre-8am stains, when I saw a line for the bus, an option I had (in my 6 weeks of residence) never thought to use before. I decided to try my luck and...I loved it for so many reasons:

I got my own seat (which is monumental compared to the subway) next to a very well dressed old gentleman (who has apparently known the secret about bus travel for years) and we both had room to read the morning paper without bumping into 10+ people. Also, I got a little breeze through a sunny window, and I got dropped off right at my 57th St., leaving me one block away from my Park Avenue office. Best of all: my jacket was still its original shade of angelic white!

It did take a few minutes longer, but well worth waking up six minutes earlier in order to preserve my whites. So my suggestion to those who rock the delicate pre-fall outfits, unless you really root for the jam-packed-sardine-chic look, give the bus a chance.