I lived on the edge of Brooklyn Heights in the 1980s, on a very unposh stretch of Schermerhorn street. It was gritty and magical. These days, when I hear of all the writers and artists living in Brooklyn, I can hardly bear it. I left the party way too soon (1988).
This lovely story brought me back to my old neighborhood...and made me happy and sad at the same time.
I was offered an apartment in Cobble Hill in the summer of 2017. My marriage had ended the year before in a maelstrom of coercive control, gaslighting and, finally serious physical abuse.
I was living in London at the time and I was devastated. Writing (my job) was impossible. Brooklyn was a lifeline. I walked that promenade daily. Visited the nearby restaurants and bars on my own. Slowly I started to feel myself again.
Here I am, nearly 7 years later to the day, remarried and living by the water in Hoboken.
Those BK days, however, will stick with me forever.
PS. Hard agree on the bananas. Total devil’s food.
Reading this in NYC for the day from Poughkeepsie (where I live now after leaving NYC in 20018). So resonant and real. The push and pull of the city life and the happiness and peace I have now. Thanks for writing this.
What a great story and experience, Sari. A college friend has generously offered me the use of her pied a terre in Lower Manhattan when I visit New York for the first time next spring, after my novel comes out from Heliotrope. I can't wait!
I used to live a couple of doors down from that amazing building on 8th and B from 1996-99. I rented a room in an artist's loft while I was at J-school at NYU. My roomie was friends with a couple who lived in that building, they had a giant schnauzer. Maybe you knew them? I wonder if our paths might have crossed in the East Village? Thanks for this essay. It reminded me of who I used to be.
Oh, wow. I lived there from late 2003 through 2005. No one had a schnauzer, but also no one ever left those apartments because they were so great and under market-value. So maybe it was someone in our tenants' association, but the dog had passed on. Who knows! But I was in the East Village in 1987-88, then starting again in 1993 until we got evicted. We must have crossed paths somewhere! Glad you enjoyed this.
That's perfectly poignant; something anyone in our situation (writers who are not independently wealthy) can relate to. On my first NYC adventure I was taken under the wing of a local friend and stayed for free for weeks in Bay Ridge. A boyfriend years later lived in Park Slope and I loved staying over... My last place with roommates was in their gorgeous apartment in the Hotel Belleclaire at 77th and Bway. Sigh. It was heavenly. Thanks for the cool trip back in time.
I really liked this fortuitous gift you received. I think of you as such a wonderful person, and how cool that couple handed you their keys! They saw it too! I had an experience like that in Ojai, California. I'd stayed in an odious AirBnB I rented sight unseen just to get out of the dark cold Northwest - and because I was tired of renting in NY for the winter, my husband's preference (sorry, Sari). As I prepared to leave Ojai, a few friends gathered with me in a cafe. "When are you coming back?" one asked. "Never," I said. "Maybe you could stay in my house this winter," she said. "We live on the East Coast in the winter. But you should see it first." As if we might find it wanting, right? My husband and I drove up - to find a fenced 40 acre property (safe for my dogs) and a house designed by a famous architect. "Um, yes," I said. They were happy to have us stay there for seven months starting that fall, and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
Still remember fondly the week I pet-sat an old kitty in a colleague's Upper East Side 1-br, taking walks along the East River, past the Gracie Mansion, and into old German taverns.
Oh, I know! Before I left the city in 2005, it seemed every time I left my apartment and came back, my wallet was $20 lighter. Now it's more like $100.
I lived on the edge of Brooklyn Heights in the 1980s, on a very unposh stretch of Schermerhorn street. It was gritty and magical. These days, when I hear of all the writers and artists living in Brooklyn, I can hardly bear it. I left the party way too soon (1988).
This lovely story brought me back to my old neighborhood...and made me happy and sad at the same time.
My favorite NYC is gritty old NYC. <3
Me too!!!
So much of this piece resonates with me.
I was offered an apartment in Cobble Hill in the summer of 2017. My marriage had ended the year before in a maelstrom of coercive control, gaslighting and, finally serious physical abuse.
I was living in London at the time and I was devastated. Writing (my job) was impossible. Brooklyn was a lifeline. I walked that promenade daily. Visited the nearby restaurants and bars on my own. Slowly I started to feel myself again.
Here I am, nearly 7 years later to the day, remarried and living by the water in Hoboken.
Those BK days, however, will stick with me forever.
PS. Hard agree on the bananas. Total devil’s food.
Ah, Brooklyn as lifeline. I totally get that. (And nice to meet another banana-hater.)
I loved reading this glimpse into your life!
Loved this.
Reading this in NYC for the day from Poughkeepsie (where I live now after leaving NYC in 20018). So resonant and real. The push and pull of the city life and the happiness and peace I have now. Thanks for writing this.
<3
lol sometimes it feels like the year 20018, but u get it. Thanks again!
"200018" lol.
YOU LIVED THE DREAM. Damn! I'm so glad you maximized that opportunity to the fullest, as one should!
It was the best. I miss it so much…
My God, I’m stunned! What a gift and what generosity. I’m glad you got to enjoy it for 9 whole months.
Me, too! Thank you, Noha.
What a great story and experience, Sari. A college friend has generously offered me the use of her pied a terre in Lower Manhattan when I visit New York for the first time next spring, after my novel comes out from Heliotrope. I can't wait!
Nice! I'm jealous.
I used to live a couple of doors down from that amazing building on 8th and B from 1996-99. I rented a room in an artist's loft while I was at J-school at NYU. My roomie was friends with a couple who lived in that building, they had a giant schnauzer. Maybe you knew them? I wonder if our paths might have crossed in the East Village? Thanks for this essay. It reminded me of who I used to be.
Oh, wow. I lived there from late 2003 through 2005. No one had a schnauzer, but also no one ever left those apartments because they were so great and under market-value. So maybe it was someone in our tenants' association, but the dog had passed on. Who knows! But I was in the East Village in 1987-88, then starting again in 1993 until we got evicted. We must have crossed paths somewhere! Glad you enjoyed this.
That's perfectly poignant; something anyone in our situation (writers who are not independently wealthy) can relate to. On my first NYC adventure I was taken under the wing of a local friend and stayed for free for weeks in Bay Ridge. A boyfriend years later lived in Park Slope and I loved staying over... My last place with roommates was in their gorgeous apartment in the Hotel Belleclaire at 77th and Bway. Sigh. It was heavenly. Thanks for the cool trip back in time.
Glad to know you can relate, Jennifer.
I really liked this fortuitous gift you received. I think of you as such a wonderful person, and how cool that couple handed you their keys! They saw it too! I had an experience like that in Ojai, California. I'd stayed in an odious AirBnB I rented sight unseen just to get out of the dark cold Northwest - and because I was tired of renting in NY for the winter, my husband's preference (sorry, Sari). As I prepared to leave Ojai, a few friends gathered with me in a cafe. "When are you coming back?" one asked. "Never," I said. "Maybe you could stay in my house this winter," she said. "We live on the East Coast in the winter. But you should see it first." As if we might find it wanting, right? My husband and I drove up - to find a fenced 40 acre property (safe for my dogs) and a house designed by a famous architect. "Um, yes," I said. They were happy to have us stay there for seven months starting that fall, and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
How nice! Thank you for the kind words.
Still remember fondly the week I pet-sat an old kitty in a colleague's Upper East Side 1-br, taking walks along the East River, past the Gracie Mansion, and into old German taverns.
I'm on the precipice of moving to NYC, and you don't want to know what $50 gets you now...
Oh, I know! Before I left the city in 2005, it seemed every time I left my apartment and came back, my wallet was $20 lighter. Now it's more like $100.