From NYC to DC, 14 years of apartments
Curbed editor-in-chief Kelsey Keith reminisces about every New York apartment (and neighborhood) she?s called home
Welcome! This week, for my inaugural Editor?s Notes, bear with me as I wax nostalgic about my most formative apartment experiences, following a big move to a new city. For those of you here for the shopping recs, skip to the end. Thanks for reading! ?Kelsey
Last year, after I?d moved into my tenth apartment in what would be my 14-year-tenure in New York City, my dad joked I should write a renters? guide for frequent movers. So I did. What I didn?t include was a rundown of all those varied apartments, which I genuinely loved, although you?d be forgiven for guessing they were shitholes given my rush to leave them. It started with a summer 2005 sublet in an un-air-conditioned three-bedroom on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope. What I recall of it mostly entails sleeping on an air mattress (again, with no a/c), and proximity to the city?s first-ever ?ghost bike,? which was installed on my block to memorialize a cyclist who had died after being hit by a car. Also: nonstop Wilco, and, at my going-away party, mint juleps because my roommates were fascinated by the fact that I was from the south. (Tennessee is not the mint-julep south, technically, but no one is too picky at that age.)
My first name-on-the-lease apartment was a converted two-into-three bedroom in Peter Cooper Village, courtesy of one roommate?s family, who had owned it since she was a ...
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