It’s currently 3:57 a.m. as I write this—which means in my brief hiatus from this space, I have not successfully rid myself of insomniac habits. Once a restless, sleepless soul, always a a restless, sleepless soul. But seeing as it’s 3:57 in the morning on 7.7.17, all the lucky sevens are making me feeling pretty auspicious despite being awake. Better to write (albeit choppily, a la stream of consciousness) than to get sucked into a YouTube hole, during which I’ll inevitably drop my phone on my face, right? Last weekend, I went to see the American Ballet Theater’s production of “Whipped Cream,” which featured the work of Alexei Ratmansky, the artistic vision of Mark Ryden, and the inimitable Misty Copeland as Princess Praline. It was magical. Truly. When different art worlds and aesthetics combine, the final production always becomes larger-than-life. (In this case, literally.) After the ballet, we trekked over to the Met for the Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons exhibit on “The Art of the In-Between.” Half the time spent in the art museum was probably dedicated towards actually finding the exhibit; either our look of utter confusion/determination gave us away, or something about us just screamed “Here Once A Year…