My first apartment
I’m looking for an apartment. It could be anywhere in the city. Right now we’re living in a tiny studio apartment with no dishwasher. The floorboards sink when you step on certain ones (I’ve memorized their locations and can walk to the bathroom in the dark like a pro). The bathroom will never be clean. It just can’t be. Ancient grime has bound itself on a molecular level to the caulk between the tiles. Sometimes something amusing will happen, like I’ll open a cabinet and everything will fall on my head. Things I didn’t know I owned will hit me in the face. Or I’ll turn on the light and there will be a hard popping sound, an explosion, and then darkness. That actually happens a lot. And then I have to wait for the super to install new bulbs, because he needs to bring a latter. And the super has not taken a shower in about three years. I wish I could tell you that that is a dramatic embellishment, but it’s not. His smell lingers in the elevator when he’s been in it within the last several hours. The elevator itself, while I’m on the topic, is frightening. I’m used to it now, but when people visit they always have to say something about the enthusiastic way it bounces up and down a few times upon reaching a floor. The super, a colossal, round man who lumbers rather than walks, once opened his door totally naked and confronted me about recycling as I walked into the “lobby.” He was sort of leaning around the door, so maybe he wasn’t completely naked, but –just a guess—he definitely was.
All that said, I’ve actually been really happy here. This apartment has seen some of my most difficult and most blissful times. It has great windows, the better to see me with. I don’t know why I just tossed that Little Red Riding Hood reference in there. Moving on. I moved here when I started grad school, and I felt completely out of my element and unsuccessful and painfully stupid. All I ate was bagels for a while.
I started to feel better about grad school in this apartment, and learned to love the broad avenue beside it, where the street dips and then lifts towards the sky. I got broken up with in this apartment, by my last (and “last” holds more meaning than I knew then) boyfriend, who arrived abruptly at my door when I thought things were getting better and said, “We both know this isn’t working.”
This is the apartment that my fiancé and I could not go into when we kissed for the first time, on the street below, because my friend was staying with me while she looked for another apartment herself, and it was about 12:30 at night. And this is the apartment that my fiancé moved into with me when his lease was up, a few months after we met, when that should’ve been the craziest idea in the world, but it was actually my dad who suggested it. He said, “You can just kick him out if it doesn’t go well. Don’t overanalyze this.”
And then, while my fiancé was at work, this was the apartment I looked around, and was thrilled to discover, again and again, all of his stuff in. Because that meant we were living together.
This is the apartment I learned to cook in. And the apartment I stopped cooking in when they found the gas leak in the wall. The apartment whose bathroom mirror became my enemy and then my friend and then my enemy and then my friend in quick succession.
This is the apartment in which I painted canvases on the floor and then hung them on the walls, so that all of the walls feature my paintings. This is the apartment where my fiancé asked me to marry him, and where we sat at the table in the kitchen area (remember, no separate rooms in a studio) afterward and ate cheese together and I said, “Wow. We’re engaged. And we have new spoons.”
And he said, “What a day!”
So it hasn’t been so bad, really. And yesterday, just for the heck of it, I went to see a much fancier apartment that overlooked the park, on Central Park South. The view was unbelievable. I mean, I could see the entire park. Just laid out before me. The apartment was fully furnished, plush, pink stuff. There were chandeliers. Mahogany. Ornate detail everywhere. Too expensive, but I wanted to see it anyway, just to…see. And I realized that I wouldn’t have taken it, even if it was affordable. Because all of its grandeur made me a little uncomfortable. Not that I want to live in a wreck of a place, but because overstuffed pink chairs with tiny crystals dangling off of their cushions makes a place feel like you can’t paint on the floor. And I guess my apartment has changed me. Or maybe just brought out parts of me that have always been there. After all, it was my first apartment.
(That’s my cousin Sam.)
*****
What was your first apartment like? If you didn’t have one, or don’t have one yet, or never will have one, where are you living now and what life-changing stuff has happened there?
Un-roast: Today I love the new muscles I’m getting from going to the gym regularly for the first time in my life. Naked, in the mirror, I remind myself of a Greek athlete. It’s sort of vague, really, and they were definitely always men in the paintings and stuff. But whatever. It looks good. What about you? What do you love about yourself today?
Yesterday’s un-roasts:
From Samantha Angela: “I love my teeth. They’re all perfectly lined up like little soldiers, (and I never even had braces!) and they’re the perfect shade of white– not so white that they look unnatural, and not at all yellow.
Yeah, I love my teeth.”
Caronae: “Un-roast: My hips are bigger and I like them this way. Good for making babies I suppose.”
Monique: “Un-roast: I love my post-baby body. Incredibly, I’m in better shape than before I got pregnant. Not only is my son going to have a silly mom, but one that can keep up with him, too!”
Virginia: “I’m gonna go with my stomach. Yesterday, I had a bad stomach ache and I felt like my stomach was this enormous volley ball situation that I could barely walk around with. Everything hurt and felt gross. Today I’m all better, and my stomach feels completely normal (a little Buddha belly because that’s how I’m built, but that’s okay) and I’m like, oh right! My stomach is great. It’s nice to not feel gross. Good times.”
Thanks, guys! I love these. And it feels good, right? I’ve been meaning to write a post about un-roasting. I swear. Soon.
Kate on June 17th 2010 in life, new york, relationships
Cindy responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 11:17 am #
So sweet. Paying tribute to your first apartment.
I guess the first apartment I’ll always remember with fondness, was the one I rented by myself, when I became single after 10 dreaded years with the ex.
It was just me and my 4 yo and the apartment complex was full of single parents, and full of kids for my son to play with. I was only there a year, and it was a BAD year, but my short time in that apartment was my first taste of freedom; of independence. That taste was so sweet.
My son and I played hockey (inside) using his beanie babies as pucks, and we got a hamster that eventually escaped (oops) and I cooked us fun meals . All my furniture was old and used or borrowed. Everything I had then was second hand. I used that second hand everything till about 3 years ago when my new life started producing paid off debt and things I picked out for myself with my now husband.
my house now is a far cry from those lean crazy days. I love my new home. My husband treated me to a dream kitchen and, well a much nicer than I was ever used too home. I am still more comfortable in slightly less “high end” appliances and furnishings. it’s beautiful and I feel so grateful, but some days, really, I would just love to grab that banished from the house hockey stick and treat my toddler to a game of Beanie Baby Hockey. BRING IT ON!
ah the days!
un roast (because I am so good at doing this)…last night I got to go undergarment shopping…at (Victoria’s Secret) and I did not have a melt down. I walked out of the store feeling like I rocked it! Plus I left the house in shorts and heels. ME. The mom who lives in yoga pants and sports bras!
woo hoo.
Cyndi responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 12:11 pm #
My first place wasn’t an apartment, it was a three bedroom house that I rented with 2 close friends for 2 years. I loved that place and those 2 years were some of the best of my life. I had finally escaped the oppression and abuse of my parents’ home, was responsible for no one but myself, had an absolute blast and looking back I realize I was really myself for the first time ever. I lost myself again later and for a long time but those two years were all me. That was life changing even though it didn’t quite stick. I drive past that house once a year or so just for the hell of it. I love your apartment stories and good luck on your search for a new one!
Joyce Mende Wong responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 12:27 pm #
Thanks for letting us stay at your place (pre-fiancé). Great place. Great location, but the elevator is not to be trusted. I still remember our first New York apartment. East 78th between First and York. A studio. Fourth floor walk up.
Kate responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 1:08 pm #
@Cindy
Way to rock it! And now I want to play beanie baby hockey!
Jamie responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 1:24 pm #
There is somthing really special about the places you live. When you move out of them, even if they’re nothing fancy, you feel like you’re losing a friend. My hubby and I have only lived in our home for a year but I already see myself weeping when it’s time to sell it. The first home we bought together…just that in itself makes it special, regardless of the dingy siding, wood paneling upstairs, and yard that needs a lot of work.
When I was in elementary school, my grandparents sold the house my mom grew up in and moved. My mom couldn’t even drive by the “for sale” sign without crying. I thought she was so silly and irrational. I remember her looking at me and saying “I got ready for my wedding in that house.”
Now I get it.
Justine responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 1:33 pm #
Oh nostalgia. My sister and I rented a five floor walk up apartment on Thompson street in the village, I miss living there sometimes, because of the bustle. I could only have a twin sized bed in the teeny room, and my window faced a brick wall, but that’s new york. It’s also where I lived when i graduated from college, got my first job, met my fiancee, and pretty much became an adult.
Un-roast: Today I like my ears. They’re usually hidden by my hair, but I’ve rediscovered them and I like how they are sort of pointy, maybe even a little elven, and I like that.
Natalie responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 2:44 pm #
Technically my first apartment would be one that I shared with two friends my senior year at Rutgers…but that didn’t end so well and wasn’t my OWN. i loved living with my friends and the whole situation was pretty great (except for the RIDICULOUS rent for an apartment in the grungy Brunz), but I remember thinking “I need to live alone.”
I just moved in my first solo apartment in May and I. Love. It. It’s the top floor of a little house with a separate entrance on the side for me. It’s perfect. An old woman named Rose lived there before me (who also didn’t pay or cancel or utilities so my electricity was shut off for a day) and it has great energy.
I too only decorate my walls with my own artwork. I’m painting and learning to cook and learning to be healthy and respect myself. I’m trying to master independence here; it’s amazing but scary.
My mom gave me a magnet with a quote from Thoreau that says, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” And it’s strange and wonderful and scary that I CAN live the life I’ve always imagined, and the only person holding me back is myself. Whoa.
On another “living alone” note…it does take some getting used to. I’ve ALWAYS wanted to live alone and knew that it was something I needed to do before I got married, had kids, etc, but it’s been a learning process. You find out more about yourself than you’d ever think you know (and it’s only been a month and a half!)…no matter how self-aware you’ve been throughout your life. You have more time to think about things and respond instead of react. It’s a beautiful thing and I can’t wait to see what my place will look like and how it will change me when I move out!
Wei-Wei responded on 17 Jun 2010 at 3:15 pm #
Wow, your first apartment. I’m actually looking forward to when I start living on my own… yep, contrary to most of the people on this blog, I am still underage! I don’t know what it’s like to be living alone. Childishly I imagine the situation to be just like how it is in How I Met Your Mother, with awesome friends, a bar downstairs, and an apartment all to myself, with my memories in it.
Man. I so want to live alone now.
Wei-Wei
San D responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 9:54 am #
While I am not nostalgic about my first apartment (I have moved wayyyy too many times to attach meaning to space), I do want to recommend that you check the outer boroughs for an apartment. I hear Brooklyn is a happening place. Also, Hoboken in NJ is also a good place to look. My sister lives in Queens and when we meet in the city, she only has a 20 minute ride into Manhattan. I spend a lot of time in Manhattan and while I fantasize in a Woody Allen type of way about living in a studio apartment in the city, I love the quietness and solitude of suburbia.
Kate responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 12:04 pm #
@Natalie
I love that description of your first apartment. I wonder what Rose was like. I loved the feeling of being on my own, the first year I lived here. I’ve actually always loved the way it feels to come back from something and find the place empty. You know it’s all yours.
Kate responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 12:06 pm #
@Wei-Wei
Ha! I’ve seen How I Met Your Mother, and the area definitely looks like where I live. I think they mention it’s in the seventies, which is near me (if they’re actually filming there).
You’ll get your chance! There might not be a bar downstairs, though…
Kate responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 12:09 pm #
@San D
I don’t know about the outer boroughs…I’m a little addicted to Manhattan. Maybe Brooklyn, but it feels so far away from…The heart.
It’s funny, I liked suburbia before I moved to the city. I expected to hate the city. But now suburbia feels stiflingly stagnant to me. And a little like it’s always sleeping.
Monique responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 1:44 pm #
Ha. First apartment. I lived in a teensy little place, three bedrooms, with five other girls. And I went through a succession of 48 roommates total, in 6 apartments (my fave was an enormous summer flat in London), over the course of four years. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get along with the girls; I actually only had one roommate that I ever had issues with.
But what I consider MY first apartment is the one I’ve shared with my husband for the duration of our marriage. One bedroom, long and narrow living room, HUGE kitchen with hardly any cupboards or countertops. One storage closet. Stall shower (no tub), one sink, perpetually broken toilet. One window. Huge back yard with a garden plot (growing beautifully even as I type). We’re in a basement apartment. It’s a steal. And it was the perfect size, until our son moved out of my womb and into every empty crevice of our tiny space. Ah, well. We’ll only be here another year or so. And someday living in such cramped quarters will probably be some of our fondest memories.
Un-roast: Today I love my hair. I went to bed with it wet, freshly showered, and it’s all kinds of wavy-crazy this morning. You know it’s gonna be a great day it when it looks fabulous on accident.
Shyra responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 2:55 pm #
I’ve only ever lived two places in my life. Lippincott (
LoL) and my parents house. My parents house was where I had my 5th bday party with a clown and a horse, where I had my sweet 16 and where I brought son when I had never changed a diaper and couldn’t mix formula. Lippincott was where I fell in love myself and allowed myself to love others. Lippincott also led me to this blog. This is perhaps why I’m trying to convince my boyfriend that I would just like to renovate an old school building into a home. My family is so engrained in education that school feels like home.
Kate responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 2:59 pm #
@Shyra
My fiance keeps telling me we should turn an old school building into a house. I thought he was the only one who wanted that! <3
laura responded on 18 Jun 2010 at 5:19 pm #
i move into my first apartment next saturday. now that moving in is only a week away, i’m both terrified and ecstatic at the thought of being on my own. i think the most important thing is going to be that i will spend three years growing up there and filling it with people and food and music and art
…and kate of course!
A responded on 28 Jun 2010 at 9:24 pm #
i liked your piece on jezebel and came over here and looked around and, holy crap, you ARE living in my first apartment. um, hi neighbor. while i’ve never seen B naked (yet), i can attest to being accosted about recycling outside the barnes and noble in the pouring rain. and i thought he was a homeless person, so i said i was so sorry but i didn’t any money.
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