Only in New York

the poster says it all: rustic floors, secondhand furnishings and tenants with artistic flair

All afternoon I've been thinking about the particular strangeness of New York City apartments. First, a friend mentioned that she has moved into a new pad that is bigger and better than her old one. Not a tough act to follow, that old apartment, it was a studio that measures about 14' square. This did not include the tiny (but cozy) bathroom or the teensy kitchenette. And there was scant closet space. The only saving graces are the nearly 10' ceiling and the blinding flood of southern light. It's asking a lot to make an adult's home in a room the size of a bedroom. (I had a number of ideas. The space really sparked the creative juices).

The other thing that got me thinking about City living spaces was the Times article about rent control/stabilization laws. The comments section is always interesting. One woman mentioned that New Yorkers have lost our minds to be struggling to stay in a place with record-high rents and pathetic public schools. Which is true. But man, it's like a fire the desire to get to New York, to be in New York, to thrive in New York. I could certainly be happier somewhere else. But... my fear is that the quiet, the utter lack of energy and 'to do,' will ring out like the silence of the grave. The thought makes me think of that line in THE LORD OF THE RINGS about Eowyn being confined by her gender and rotting away in grief and frustration all alone at night with nothing but the walls of her bower to witness. ::shudder:: 

Dramatic, but that's how dynamic New York City is. No matter the awful incident, how ripped off you feel, how tiny or crappy a place you have to settle for (or fight to get), there's still some spark of beauty in it because it's an opportunity to be in the city that never sleeps. 

Let's keep makin' the best of our quirky little homes, folks!

fodder for a lifetime of stories: a worn building, quirky details