It was all about green curtains.
In 2008, to my surprise, I was offered a nine-month fellowship based in New York City. I’ve lived there twice before, and both times were unsuccessful. In other words, I was unable to develop any kind of meaningful social life. So this was an opportunity not only to do research for a new novel, but also to do things right. I swore that this city would never destroy me a third time.
But how? I knew from experience that New Yorkers (who use their ovens as sweater drawers) can’t resist the exotic novelty of dinner parties, so if you host them at least twice a week, you’ll be the toastmaster of the city. You should be able to. But where? Since I first came to Brooklyn in 1992, almost every writer had moved to Brooklyn, so it was obvious that I should follow suit—though at the time, Manhattanites weren’t visiting Brooklyn. But it was a time when people from Brooklyn were happy to come to Manhattan. No one ever dreamed that the day would come when the opposite would be true. I settled somewhere along the F subway line and started looking for Greenwich Village. I found the perfect property within my budget, about a block from where I lived when I was fresh out of college.
What could be better?
A fully furnished apartment might have been better, but I wasn’t daunted. I thought I would spend some time browsing Housing Works and other thrift stores, but luckily I was able to find a young woman online who was planning to move back to Kansas. The city filed for bankruptcy and she was selling the contents of her apartment for $500. She had everything I needed, including a couch, armchair, cocktail table, bed, bedding, shower curtain, and kitchen utensils, except for style. As the moving truck arrives with her bland beige vinyl couch and greenish glass table, I leave everything in my empty apartment and back away, wondering how in the hell they’d throw a dinner party in something so ugly. I wondered if it was possible. At that time, Elle Deco saved my life.
“El Deco saved me.”
I must have received this book at the airport, back when the only thing to do on a plane was a book. Decorated in the style that Jonathan Adler saved me from, when I was constantly thinking about my ugly apartment and fearing that I had already failed for the third time. I came across a photo of a Brooklyn townhouse. And of course green curtains! A gorgeous chandelier! Brown and deep red pop! mirror! I would like to turn this beige complex into a salon.
And so did I.
Photo illustration: Claire Booker
I found half of what I needed at IKEA in Red Hook, hired a van to take everything home, and hung the curtains from floor to ceiling as shown in the photo. I placed a mirror next to the window. I found a pendant chandelier at Urban Outfitters and hung it across the sofa and at table lamp height. After walking around New York and picking up canvases left on the streets and decorating them with fabric samples, I found some pillows that matched the colors in the story. I bought a long board and some trestles at a hardware store. It becomes your dining room table when you need it. And lots of folding chairs.
A week later, we held our first dinner party.
Since then, I’ve stuck to my Tuesday and Thursday schedule, and instead of putting myself on people’s calendars weeks in advance, I simply send them a text around 5 o’clock to see who wants dinner. I checked to see if it was. Many people were happy without making plans, but my table was always full. I realized that my choice of the F train, especially its proximity to West 4th Street, meant it was easily accessible from almost anywhere in the city, especially for those heading into Brooklyn from Midtown. I did. Why not stop by for dinner? It was an election year, so I hosted a party and filled the room with balloons. I had my own birthday party in November with dancing and snacks. I was at least the cracker, if not the toast of the town. The third time really was the charm.
But in May, after nine months, I had to decide whether to stay in New York or move on. I made a lot of friends and had a great time, but now that the fellowship money was gone, I realized there was no way I was going to stay. So I had to say goodbye to my beloved new city. And my new apartment. I sold some furniture online to someone for $500 and no one knows. It may have survived to this day. When you walk into a Brooklyn apartment or a Queens apartment, you might see your own old home preserved in the city. It’s as if I’m in a museum of those blessed days when I finally got it right.
This story was originally published in the October 2024 issue of ELLE DECOR. Subscribe
