Brand Strategist

Curiosity Matters

An Exploration of Branding, Design and Cultural Trends

What It Means To Live In NYC

I've been living in Williamsburg for about three weeks now and I can't tell you how exciting it is to discover a new neighborhood. I'm not sure if any other city in the U.S. has such a range of distinct neighborhoods and characters, sometimes dramatically shifting from one block to another. How much does living in a neighborhood begin to shape ones style or personality? Or does it simply attract a certain type of person? What effect does the architecture have? Original inhabitants? Or even most recent? These are all questions I ask myself as I walk to the Bedford L out of my building that's barely a decade old where I haven't seen a neighbor over 40. I walk past the hispanic owned delis, past the elegant wine store, past the Dutch, red brick buildings that are nearly 300 years old and onto the packed L train. On Saturday, I had what could only be described as a classic New York City day - one that could have only happened in this decade - or oddly enough, maybe a hundred years ago. The night before, around midnight, I found a bedframe from Design Within Reach off of Craigslist after having too many issues with a previous UPS bedframe shipment. So despite the rain, I headed into Manhattan via the L train. But the train didn't come thanks to a malfunction. I briefly cursed my coffee addiction that had caused me to miss the last working train and waited on the corner for a cab. A few women nearby were waiting on the same corner and I suggested we all share a cab. So the four of us squeezed into a livery cab and happily discovered we were all headed the same direction. The cast of characters couldn't have been a better representation of the neighborhood. There was me, of course, representing the more recent influx of 30 something creative-ish folks. The girl next to me was off to her yoga class and as we discussed the recent subway troubles, commented that the subway should be free. My libertarian friend would have had a field day with that one. There was the girl next to her, a punk-ish, young blonde, most likely working in retail or the restaurant business given her claim that she was running late for work on a Saturday. And the girl sitting in the front was a Polish or Russian, blonde, recent immigrant.

My New York day continued as I arrived to my destination, an apartment in Tudor City. Have you ever been to an apartment in Tudor City? I hadn't up until that point. It's kind of awesome. Kind of like walking into a Renaissance castle except you're in Midtown East and it's 2013. Instead of being a creepy, random guy that I'd feel uncomfortable walking into a room with $250 in cash, my bed frame seller was a tall, youngish nice man an exceptional design senseĀ and friendly girlfriend. Go figure. My friend, who I owe many MeatBall Shop meals, helped me drag the bed into his car and drove me back to Williamsburg. By 3pm, I had an assembled bed and the L train was working again so I continued my classic New York City day, heading back into the city for my spin class. Another day, another adventure.

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No sweat, no tears