An it's-frickin-cold rant & The Brooklyn Flea

I took this photo the other day while shivering on a mound of ice and praying for a supernova to warm my frostbitten body. I wish it captured the total frigidity in which it was taken, but you'll have to trust me on this one: it's cold here, y'all. When I saw this neon sign in Bed-Stuy over the weekend, I just had to laugh. This sandwich shop, cruelly named as it is, serves as a harsh reminder that summer is not in fact endless. In fact, I half believe I will never see it again. It may very well be dead.

Anyway, I hope you'll excuse my it's-frickin-cold rant. I have one about three times a day, as do most New Yorkers in the month of February. New York winters have this way of marring your outlook, forcing you to look at the world through a lens that makes everything seem evil. I heard all kinds of similarly-themed rants about the cold over the last week ranging from "Whygodwhy?!" to "When will death come?" It's normal. Don't worry about us. We'll all be fine.

Still, in the midst of the coldest weekend of the season, I still managed to discover some wonderful things. For one, my sister came into town and we ate our way through all of Brooklyn's best comfort foods. She handled the cold like a pro, by the way. My hubs and I also braved the elements together this weekend all in the name of love! You know, since it was Valentine's Day and all. I wore two pairs of leggings, three pairs of socks, a puffy coat over an oversized sweater over a regular-sized sweater over a dress over a nightgown over a tank top. And still, I was freezing. 

But regardless, to celebrate our love, we pretended it wasn't two degrees outside and ending up doing one of my favorite things...ever. We went to the Brooklyn Flea.

I've certainly mentioned this on the blog before, but it bears repeating: I LOVE rummaging through vintage stuff. I don't know why. I don't know where this desire comes from, but it is very real. I love old clothes, old dishes, old toys, old postcards, old oil paintings of semi-naked ladies, old light fixtures, old EVERYTHING. I love the smells, the textures, the history, the one-of-a-kindness of it all. It's just everything I love.

And guess what the Brooklyn Flea is full of? OLD STUFF. It's a weekly market featuring a mix of vintage finds and some really incredible (but way out of my price range) handmade items from some talented local artisans. The Flea is held in different places in Brooklyn, but for the winter, it's been held at this huge warehouse space in Crown Heights. This was my first time at this particular location, and I was in heaven. 

Usually the flea involves a lot of dreaming and less actual shopping, but this time was different. As Daniel and I wandered around the place entranced by the vastness of it all, we both found ourselves drawn to a piece of furniture. 

Meet Blanche. That's what I named this gorgeous vanity that we stumbled upon. I know you can't tell much from this picture, but she's STUNNING. She's completely adorned in mirrors, she's octagon-shaped, she's super crazy old, and I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Daniel did too, not because he is into octagonal vanities, but more so because he knew it was exactly the kind of piece that I have been looking for.

He wanted to buy it for me as an early birthday gift, but I had some seriously major buyer's guilt. I'm curious to know if I'm the only person who has this self-proclaimed affliction. Random purchases do not exhilarate me, but rather, they fill me with a sort of inexplicable dread. Is that just me?

We talked it over and decided to take a lap around the flea. If Blanche was still there when we were done, that would be the sign that she was supposed to be a part of our home. We raced around the warehouse, remarking on items here and there while still thinking about our beloved vanity. When we returned, there stood Blanche, unmoved and untouched. It was fate.

A beautiful woman with green hair sold her to us, remarking, "I can't believe no one else has bought this today." Me neither, my green-haired friend. Me neither.*

And now this is what Blanche looks like in our home:

By the way, I realized immediately that it is crazy hard to take a picture of something covered in mirrors. A selfie ended up being the best way to go (pardon my VANITY...GET IT?!):

So anyway, guys, I'm as cold as the day is long, but I've got a gorgeous vanity named Blanche and a wonderful man by my side, so I guess it all evens out.

How was your Valentine's Day weekend?

*It has come to my attention that the beautiful girl with the green hair was actually Courtney Wagner from A&E's Storage Wars. I feel like a fool for not realizing it at the time, but ah! I love this thing even more!

Don't you just LOVE New York in the fall?

Every day that I step out onto my sidewalk, I simply cannot help but think of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

“Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your address.”

 

If you happen to be an avid lover of the works of Nora Ephron, you will recognize these words from the quintessential New York rom-com, You’ve Got Mail. It is an exclamation written in an email by Joe Fox to Kathleen Kelly in the early days of online dating.

Strange as it may sound, this simple line might very well be one of the reasons I ended up in this crazy town. Growing up in Helotes, Texas, I could only imagine what Joe was yammering on about in this autumnal rant of his. Of course, my teachers taught me all about the color-changing leaves of fall, but the lessons were a bit more theoretical than practical. I had never seen a season like the one Tom Hanks was singing praises about.

The very sound of his words seemed to ignite something in me: “Don't you just love New York in the fall?” I wanted to say that exact same phrase with that exact same level of emphasis and authority, and I quietly committed myself to one day being able to do so.

Today, I live in Brooklyn – Ditmas Park, to be specific – and though it is not exactly a stone’s throw from the Upper West Side-topia pictured in You’ve Got Mail, I still believe I know precisely what Joe was talking about.

Because, friends, I just LOVE New York in the fall!

And it’s not the pumpkin-spiced-latte kind of love or the elbow-patched-sweater kind. No, this is the real deal – the sort of feeling that changes the way you exist in the world, the kind that makes you want to open a bookstore or smell a bouquet of freshly-sharpened pencils for no particular reason at all.

Like so many theatrical depictions of New York City, I hoped and prayed that Joe’s emphatic declarations about seasonal beauty weren’t overstated. Now that I’m finally, finally here, I’m happy to report they weren’t.

I just love New York in the fall! Don’t you just LOVE New York in the fall?

By the way, if you enjoyed these pictures, I’ve got a treat for you. Head on over to From Rain to Shine right now to see some of these photos turned into a dreamy fall color story. While you’re there, be sure to tell the incomparably talented Jess that I said hey!

A Big Fat Announcement

In my fear of jinxing the outcome, I've intentionally left out a really significant life event on this here blog. Like, really significant, guys. I've been keeping it under wraps for the past FIVE MONTHS for fear that acknowledging it publicly would somehow bring things to a crashing halt, but now that it's official, I am so psyched to finally announce....

We BOUGHT an apartment!

I KNOW! It's insane. Or totally sane. I still can't decide.

But anyway, yes, my husband, Daniel, and I are now HOMEOWNERS in the greatest city in the world. Technically, we are share-owners because we live in a co-op, but don't get all technical on me, nerd. We own something, and we are pretty freaking excited about it.

The deal was officially made this Friday. We sat in a conference room in midtown with our realtor, the seller, his lawyer, our lawyer, and three other lawyers for two hours signing our names to all kinds of weird documents about lead paint and septic tanks. I felt like such a grownup save for the fact that I was sporting a pimple on my cheek the size of Mt. Kilimanjaro and wearing jewelry from Forever 21.

But regardless, at the end of it all, me, my husband, and my cheek pimple walked out of that office with keys in hand, and we hardly even knew what to do with ourselves. We had been in this seemingly endless process for five months, and it was finally through.

Here's the thing no one tells you about buying a home in New York City: it takes forever. Forever-forever, to the point where it's not even fun anymore. 

First, you have to find a solid realtor, and there are a lot of dogs out there, let me tell you. Then you have to go to a million open houses, many of which already have accepted offers and are completely out of your price range. Then there comes the moment where you start altering your expectations -- you trade the East Village for South Brooklyn and a subway stop around the corner for a 10-minute walk (it's not so bad -- honest!). Then you find a gem -- the perfect place, not counting the teeny-tiny kitchen and the noisy street-- and you put in an offer and cross your fingers. Then your offer gets rejected for an all-cash offer, and you spend the next two days in mourning. You wonder aloud to anyone who will listen why life is so cruel.

Then you get back on that horse, and you find another place that is, like, pretty good. The apartment itself is beautiful, but the location is weird. Still, you tell yourself you can make it work. 

Then you have a panic attack -- what the hell?! I don't want to live in Midwood! -- and you call up your realtor who assures you that you should never put an offer in on a place that you aren't truly in love with. You take a sigh of relief and then you go back to hunting. But suddenly, nothing new or good seems to be coming on the market. You wonder why you ever started this godforsaken endeavor. Why couldn't you just be happy where you were?

And then, friends, your realtor schedules you to see one more place. At this point, you've lost all hope. You're basically dead inside, a shell of a house hunter just going through the motions of it all. She opens the door on a place in a neighborhood you're sure you can't afford, and a white light smacks you in the face upon entry. It is your dream home. A two bedroom, beautifully renovated apartment on a quiet street on an express subway stop. You say, "I'LL TAKE IT. GOOD GOD, PUT THE OFFER IN!" 

The offer is accepted. Dreams do come true.

BUT THEN IT'S STILL NOT OVER! Because after the accepted offer comes the mountains of paperwork followed by an anxiety-producing board approval, which is followed by a mortgage approval from your bank, which is followed by even more paperwork, which is followed by writing a ton of big checks and praying for mercy, and then...CLOSING. You sit in a conference room with a pimple on your face, and none of it seems real. Especially when they hand you the keys. 

Then you pack an air mattress, and you spend the night on the floor of your new place. You order Chinese take out and drink champagne by candlelight. 

At least, that's what we did, anyway.

So why did we do all of this? Why didn't we just keep on renting on? 

Well, lots of reasons. For one, we could. For another, even though we spent a fair amount in this process, we are certainly going to end up saving (and making) much more. Our mortgage is actually lower than our current rent, and in the end, we were just tired of shelling out an unreasonable amount of money every month. 

And there is also such freedom in owning our own place. We are no longer beholden to a crappy tile situation or a shoddy paint job. We can actually take pride in the home in which we live. I can become the Martha Stewart I never knew I could be. It's a pretty insane feeling. 

And those renovations will happen, but actually, our apartment is pretty great the way it is now. A few months back, I wrote a post titled 9 Things I Want From My Next Brooklyn Apartment, and this new apartment pretty much has it all covered. We've got a dishwasher, a shower head that sits on the normal side of the shower, a location in a neighborhood we love (Ditmas Park, we are still inside you!), a reasonable walk to the subway, a host of amazing coffee shops, bars, and restaurants nearby (a hop, skip, and a jump from the best pizza in New York City), a clean laundry room, and the possibility of a parking spot in the future. But the #1 thing I wanted in my new apartment was a view. Here is the view from our old place:

I think we can all agree that the ladies on Orange is The New Black have a better view than this. 

But folks, here is the view from our new place:

So....yeah. It's a bit better. 

Plus, I've got an office! A real office where I can shut the door and everything. It's bliss.

We haven't actually moved in yet. We are thinking to do some painting before we do, but once that happens, you better believe I will be on here with a ton of pictures and riveting details (everyone loves a good moving story, right?)

Anyway, sorry to have kept this from all of you in the blogging universe for so long. I promise I don't have any other secrets. Well, I do, but they mostly involve personal hygiene and stuff like that, so I think I probably won't be posting those. 

And before I go, I want to say thanks to all of our friends and families who have been so great and supportive during this insanity. You may not realize it, but your advice and help has meant the world to us over the last few months (and also, are you available to help us paint this Saturday? Just kidding. Hahahahahahahahah...No, but seriously, are you?)

Christy's New York City Favorites: New York Transit Museum

Last week I introduced a new series in which I gush about my love for New York City. I've decided to change the name from "New Things to Love in New York City" to "New York City Favorites" simply because not everything I intend to share will be exactly "new". In fact, today I am featuring a bit of NYC history for you, so yeah, definitely not new. Get used to this updated name until I decide to change it to "Christy Brags About Living in New York City" (wait, should I just actually call it that?).

Anyway, today I'm going to take you back to simpler times -- back to the days when men wore fancy hats, I guess.

This is an ad I found in an old train car at the New York Transit Museum. Daniel and I visited this Brooklyn establishment back in January when were trying to find something fun to do indoors. The Transit Museum did us one better by not only allowing us to be inside but also underground.

What looks like a typical subway stairwell is actually the entrance to one of the coolest museums in the city. The New York Transit Museum, located in Downtown Brooklyn, makes public transit fun again. Seriously. There are plenty of exhibits here, but the best is definitely the impressive display of old train cars that you can legitimately walk through while pretending you're on your way to some Great Gatsby party on Long Island.

What I learned most from this experience is that, aesthetically at least, public transit was way better back when the world was less populated. I mean, how pumped would you be if one of these precious trains greeted you Grand Central Station?

But even better than the paint job on these train cars are the advertisements inside them. To be fair, advertisements are still one of my favorite (actually probably least favorite) things about riding the subways of New York City, but these vintage ads honestly take the cake.

Get it? Cake?

They are all-at-once charming and terrifying as was, I'm sure, the entire first half of the twentieth century.

The ads of each train car correspond to the years in which the train was in operation. Fun game: What year do you think they ran this completely uninformative public service announcement about venereal disease?

"But how do I get venereal disease?"
"Uuuhh...."

Back then, the Metro Transit Authority didn't take any crap from ANYONE:

And they understood the importance of pageantry:

And cats were revered as HEROES:

But sometimes they were actually seen as well-spoken miscreants of society:

Anyway, if you want to step into history, I totally recommend the Transit Museum. It will make you long for a time when subway cars were as elegant as the Metropolitan Opera, but it will also make you thankful that as a culture we no longer feel the need to put ketchup on lemons.

Head to their website for more details, and while we're on the subject of weird advertisements, what's the weirdest one you've seen lately?

Blooming Things + The Married Writer

There are a lot of things about living in New York City that are a far cry from magical -- the garbage water that sits in still pools on the subway tracks, the cash-only restaurants without conveniently-located ATMs, the guy on the corner who says your butt in those jeans looks like two Christmas hams. It's not exactly a fantasy world, I realize this.

Still, there are a few things in this town that just never cease to dazzle me. One of those is the impressive display of blossoms that show up around this time of year. These flowers are positively everywhere, even in the trees. Flowers in TREES?! I mean, whoever heard of such a thing?! Certainly not this little lady from Texas, that's for sure. When I first saw New York's flowers last spring, I was in absolute awe, and after that horrible winter we just had, I could not be happier to see them again this year. I've been taking pictures like a madwoman, and here are a few of my favorites:

By the way, thanks to Ditmas Park Corner for sharing my picture with the rest of the neighborhood!

Like all good things in this world, these blooms will be gone before you know it, so get out there and experience them for yourself. And if you're from, say, Texas and you don't live around these flowers, go eat a breakfast taco or something BECAUSE YOU CAN!

Today I'm excited to introduce you to Rebecca Chapman who writes over at the blog "The Married Writer"!

Blog//Twitter//Facebook//Bloglovin'

As you can see by her preferred accessory in the above photo, Rebecca is a musician and singer/songwriter, living a fabulous life in Nashville, TN. You can check out some of her tunes over on the music tab of her page or you can even watch her do her thing on her Youtube channel. 

As her blog's title implies, she's newly married and absolutely loving it (girl, get it!). She describes herself as "a rehabilitated break-up song junkie no longer finding writing inspiration from relationship drama". In her recent post titled "32 Things That Make Me Happy", she sights her husband as #1 and at #2 she listed her "furry children" and followed it with this AMAZING picture:

Her dog, Penguin...dressed as a penguin...It's a miracle.

For a quick glimpse into Rebecca's life, check out her post, "13 Numbers That Shaped My 2013". There you can see what our friend was up to in the midst of what seems like a pretty stinking eventful 365 days (a wedding and major surgery within the same year? Yeah, this girl was a bit busy.)

So do yourself a favor and head on over to rebeccachapman.com right now, read all of the funny things her hubs has to say, and say hi now before she gets super famous!

Christy's New Things To Love In NYC: The Sketchbook Project

Today marks the beginning of this series in which I share some of my new favorite finds in NYC. Enjoy!

While walking to Egg in Williamsburg, one of my favorite brunch spots in Brooklyn, I always pass this trendy storefront with the words "The Sketchbook Project" etched on the door. I have always been curious about what is happening inside this little brick-and-mortar shop, but usually by the time I stick a fork into my eggs rothko, I've somehow completely forgotten about my curiosity.

It kept happening over and over again (because let's face it, I love me some eggs rothko) until one day I decided to bypass brunch entirely and head straight over to the little shop with walls lined with colorful sketchbooks.

And, guys, I'm so glad I did.

It turns out that this little spot which I kept passing time-after-time in my lust for brunch is actually one of my new favorite places in the city. The Sketchbook Project is like the guy in every John Hughes movie who was there the whole time but just hadn't been given the time of day.

You can head on over to the website to see a more official description for how this place operates, but essentially, it's a library comprised of, you guessed it, sketchbooks. Over 30,000 of these precious books have been donated to the project from artists all over the world, and the result is a breathtaking room filled wall-to-wall with artistic genius.

When we walked in, I was ready to tear this place up. I imagined myself picking out all of the sketchbooks with the prettiest bindings and just hoarding them to myself for a few hours. As you can imagine, that would have been insanity.

No no, folks, there is a system, as well there should be. The first thing you do upon entering the Brooklyn Art Library (the flagship location for The Sketchbook Project) is get yourself a library card. You then head to a computer in the back, scan your card, and magic happens. You are presented with a list of categories by which you can request your sketchbooks. Within a drop of a hat, a helpful employee (or volunteer? I'm not sure) is at your side with two books -- one from the selection you have chosen and another entirely random one.

For example, the theme I selected was "In 5 minutes..." and I was brought two books, actually both from that same theme. At the start, I was entirely unsure of what to expect. I thought maybe I'd just skim through books of quick sketches from, yes, talented people, but I was fully unprepared for the level of artistry I was about to encounter.

Artist: Lady Orlando, Mexico, In 5 minutes...

Artist: Lady Orlando, Mexico, In 5 minutes...

Artist: Lady Orlando, Mexico, In 5 minutes...

Watercolor, pop-up pages, poetry, mixed media -- these books were so much more than I ever could have imagined. They were like small art galleries unto themselves.

Artist: Maria do ceu diel Oliveira, Brazil, In 5 minutes...

Artist: Maria do ceu diel Oliveira, Brazil, In 5 minutes...

We sat there for an hour, requesting more and more books, sitting at a long table in total amazement of what existed in these pages.

There was such an intimacy to opening them. Carefully, I'd turn each page, with full reverence for how precious their contents were. It was as though I had received the sweetest invitation to read the diary of someone I had always wanted to know better. Every picture, every poem, every pencil stroke was privileged information that I received joyfully.

Georgianna Kreiger, California, Superheroes in everyday clothes

I was particularly excited when I stumbled upon a short note written to me from a young artist named Clara at the start of her sketchbook.

Clara Herzog, Cambridge, United Kingdom, Uncharted waters

She was fifteen-years-old, and she was good.

Clara Herzog, Cambridge, United Kingdom, Uncharted waters

Clara Herzog, Cambridge, United Kingdom, Uncharted waters

Clara Herzog, Cambridge, United Kingdom, Uncharted waters

The Sketchbook Project is a reminder that true art isn't limited to ornate fixtures in world-renowned museums. Instead, art can be sandwiched tightly in a Moleskine notebook, maybe the very one sitting in your messenger bag at this exact moment. The true artistry comes in the invitation, in welcoming someone else to step into your private pages and know you through them.

Marta Vivanco, Madrid, Spain, Uncharted waters

Marta Vivanco, Madrid, Spain, Uncharted waters

If you want to visit The Brooklyn Art Library, head on over to Williamsburg (103A North 3rd St). For those of you who aren't in or around New York City, don't feel left out! The Sketchbook Project has a mobile library that tours nationwide. It may be making a stop in your town. You can also peruse their digital library RIGHT FREAKING NOW! And if you're reading this post and you're thinking, "Hey! I'm artist! I should have a sketchbook in this library!" then you should consider contributing your work to the project. I know I'd love to see it.

I was going to end this post with a page from my sketchbook, but unfortunately it's mostly just grocery lists and standup notes at this point, so I'm not sure it's much to look at. What would I find if I looked in your sketchbook?