When I first found my studio apartment I was overly romantic about it: it was my Paris garret (despite being on the first floor), it was Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment in Sex & the City. For a studio, it’s kind of huge; apart from the main L-shaped living space that serves as both bedroom and living room, there’s also a separate kitchen, a dressing room, and more closet space than I’d dreamed possible when I first started looking for places. My Aunt has said that any city realtor would refer to it as a Junior One, and she's right.
My studio is also the first place that I could really call my own. I’d lived at home, then in dorms, and shared an apartment with friends in Queens, but I never had a space where I was the sole occupant. For the first time in my life I would need to buy furniture (to this day I love my couch more than any pair of shoes I own), I would decorate a space other than my bedroom, I would be able serve as a true hostess.
|The aforementioned couch|
My first night in the studio I sat on the floor and ate seafood bisque from a plastic container that was perched on top of a cardboard box holding all of my DVD’s. I toasted myself on a job well done with sparkling wine and, since I didn’t have cable yet, I watched Sex & the City on DVD on my 21” television. It was a perfect evening.
So much has changed in the year and a half that I have lived there; Hurricane Sandy hit, my second niece and first nephew were born, new business opportunities have proved to be both inspiring and successful, and I met the love of my life. Our recent engagement gave the green light to cohabitation (what can I say? I’m old-fashioned at heart) and we are preparing to move into a one-bedroom apartment.
Our new place is in the same building as my old place, so it’s not like I’m going far, but I am leaving behind a moment in time that was 100% mine. So, as excited as I am for what lies ahead, I just wanted to take a moment to pay my respects to the one space that was totally mine and perfectly me.