The closing on my new apartment was supposed to be today. That, is, today was the date it was rescheduled to after my October 1 closing was "postponed until further notice " a week before it was supposed to happen. Back in August, I gave my bedroom set to my good friend Melissa, who was moving into the apartment of my other friend Bridget. This is very exciting- my two best friends in the city becoming roommates just a few subway stops up from me on the UWS- talk about a strategic concentration of people I like in one convenient location!
Anyway, I gave Melissa my dream little bedroom set- Pier 1 white whicker wardrobe, headboard & night stand- she didn't have room for the desk & chair though. I acquired this furniture well past the official adult cutoff date (around 21 or 22?) when my next door neighbor back in Colorado moved and needed to get rid of it. I was in college in Massachusetts at the time, but still had a room, my room, at my mom's house and it made sense to take the furniture. After I graduated, I moved to New York City, and after three months of living in a shoe-box from hell with two charactitures of awful roommates (and smack dab in Hell's Kitchen, just to throw in some dramatic irony...) I moved into my not-for-much-longer current apartment. We're on the 10th floor, with the most amazing skyline view of an expanse of lower brownstones and walk-up apartments below us, with hints of mid-town sky-scrapers scattered around, and the occasional tall building. It took me months to be able to fall asleep at night when I first moved in because I used to lay awake staring at the view. Also, there was a residential building right in eyesight with a little light show on the roof- the colors would change from orange to red to fusha to indigo etc. A final point about the view... it is not "naturally beautiful" in the same way that the Boulder flatirons are mesmerizing to look at, but I find this (or any) city view just as compelling- from the modern glass residential building I viewed daily as it progressed towards completion, to the water tower on the roof next door to me- the view is rich with history and stories.
I shipped out my whicker furniture from Colorado to New York and had my dream room once again. This time, I had parkay floors, more space than my bedroom at home, and seriously intense sunshine (with only months before I move out, I finally realize that 2 1/2 years of direct sunlight was not very appreciated by the fabric on my bedspread, some decorative boxes, and various other things I now realize are multi-colored and faded by the sunshine. Ironic, because I spend so few daylight hours in my apartment enjoying the natural light- the majority of weekend afternoons actually spent in my apartment were usually failed attempts at taking a nap. The windows are now covered in curtains, augmented with 2 pashmina-like scarves, thanks to the vendors around 58th and 5th Avenue, and the bedroom set is in its new happy home.
I've been living out of boxes since August. That is over 5 months. I am too stubborn to unpack my pots & pans to actually cook again, though fortunately, I was forced to assemble what will become the drawer system of my soon-to-be walk in closet after the store refused to keep them in the warehouse any longer and I had no choice but to take delivery of them. So clothes are in drawers, and my life is a system of boxes, cleverly stacked and labeled with post-its. The boxes are occasionally re-packed and re-arranged, like when I run out of body moisturizer and have to break out the reserve supplies packed away "for the new apartment." I measure this mirage of a move in beauty products previously ear-marked for the new apartment- seven bottles of conditioner and three tubes of mascara later, and I still haven't moved.
Yet. I had an October date postponed until February 5th. My relator, the real-estate company inspector and I had the initial walk-through last week, so I know the place is finished. But then later in the week we heard back that we're still waiting on the Certificate of Occupancy and so the attorneys pushed back until Feb 12th. I hate it when people ask me why it was delayed. Patience is a virtue that doesn't come to me instinctively, nor does inaction/complacency. Do I not look like the kind of person who would sit back and let something just be delayed for no reason? However, I'm vacationing in a land of native real-estate developers, building inspectors & lawyers, and am limited in my communication by my attorney's translation and the narrow scope of guide-book phrases I've learned from googling this foreign language. If I knew which city official was responsible for issuing this little piece of paper I need to close, I'd go down there and bribe them (um, I mean, take them to lunch etc). Being pushed back another week is definitely a pain, but it isn't the end of the world. Now I joke about the delay, that when I went down to bribe the city official, it turns out that the person I slept with was actually in charge of East side properties, not West. Totally honest mistake there, but was out of luck.
I have a couch sitting in a warehouse in Crate and Barrel. It has recently been joined by a media stand. My first-ever television is enjoying a slim nook between a table and a wall in my next-door-neighbor's apartment. This couch and I have had quite an intense relationship together since July. I've yet to actually see it, but it is apparently a "Cameron Queen Sleeper in Sable Chocolate." I ordered her in July, knowing that it would take 6-8 weeks to build, and that I would schedule a delivery date afterwards. She was not my original choice- I'd chosen a slightly bigger version, the "Huntley Woods Queen Sleeper in Danskin Latte" but switched after concerns over the actual width of the door frame.
As the Crate & Barrel sales reps frequently reminded me, couches are not refundable. They say this as a formality, of course, but given their kind Minnesotian accents, I conjure up images of the housing developments with driveways, front doors, and in the worst-case scenario, a sliding back patio doors where they life. The concept of a couch not being able to clear a doorway into a residence is most likely not a concept they can even truly grasp. But... we are New Yorkers and take door frae measurements, elevator heights, and hallway clearance issues very seriously. Entering the realm of elevator residency is typically a notable milestone in a New Yorker's life. Some refuse to ever entertain the thought of living in a building over 5 stories, and for others, like me, once you move out of a walk-up into an elevator... well, I'm not sure I could ever go back.
But the measurement issue is still very real to me. And planning out an apartment through memory and a floor plan (aided with a tick-mark ruler fashioned out of a business card from the scale) given to me by the condo sales office is truly an art form. My sister visited in March and we were able to see the new place, as well as the finished model unit. I arrived with my tape measure and got as many accurate measurements as I could. Some things, however, I didn't think to note... the height of the baseboards? The width of the door frames? The ceiling height in the front coat closet? The much greater concern was whether or not a queen-size bed will fit in the hopefully-bed sized nook formed by a recession in the wall in between a forward wall and a corner pillar. One week shy of a year has passed since I wrote a check for the down payment on this apartment. I knew it would be a long process because the construction/renovations were still very much in progress- a process I also had the opportunity to monitor, from the outside of the building, at least, as the new building is directly across the street from my soon-to-be-former residence and I cut through the driveway daily on my walk to work. Either way, I've just about a year to plan out my decorations.
Due to an ambiguous half-inch that would make all the difference between a couch I purchased ending up in my apartment versus forever remaining in the hallway, I opted for the sure-fit Cameron couch instead. Twice a month I would speak to the sales rep to explain that the couch doesn't yet have a destination to be delivered to until I close. Finally, the good graces of Midwestern kindness to accommodate my situation clashed against corporate policy once and for all and monthly storage fees kicked in. So far, 3 months of storage fee at 10% of the purchase price each time and this couch is becoming a nicer and nicer couch by the day. Two little swatches of the fabric color and the online catalogue are all I have. By now, I imagine it must have wood-coated gold legs and little oil fields embedded into the seat cushions to account for the rapidly inflating price.
The apartment I am moving out of is a converted 1-bedroom, meaning the common area is pretty much a closet and my roommate and I each have large bedrooms. Furnishing the small living room is a lot like playing tetris- a very small space to work with. We've got a compact little breakfast cart with stools, two bookshelves, a bench with wicker storage baskets, a hanging entry shelf with more baskets and hooks, and two mini square storage ottomans by the front door where I put my shoes on in the morning. Note the failure to mention a couch or a TV. Monumental moment here, because not only am I about to be a homeowner, I am also thisclose to owning a couch and TV too. Technically, they already belong to me, at least on paper. A bench is handy- especially a bench that provides more useful storage space with the little baskets as usable floor space it occupies. Because it is not like you could squeeze a couch in that space if the bench & bookshelf weren't there... (perhaps only if you were okay hurdling the arm to enter the kitchen.
That little bench is efficient and came in handy during the pre-boxes era (and technically, the pre-studying for the CAIA era too, so circa my birthday in March) when I used to have wine & cheese parties. But it is not a couch. The difference is that a bench is a viable and cushioned alternative to standing/sitting on the floor during a party and a couch is a destination. I'm not sure if anyone has ever made a trip to the apartment common space just to sit on the bench. Not that you could sit on it at the moment though without having to move and then climb over a 2-box high wall of boxes. Those are the heavy ones too- packed full of pots & pans and cook books (which for some odd reason are each typically the weight of a small child). The storage ottomans I am taking with me, as with the bookshelves.
The bench... I waver back and forth- take it or leave it? Of course, it would be handy next to the front door- a convenient place to tie shoes (the ottomans are too low to sit without awkwardly dropping my inevitable collection of purses and bags of running clothes I schlepp daily across town) and I could consolidate the baskets of place mats & dish towels to reallocate a basket for hats, mittens, and scarves. The reasons for not taking it...? Will it make my new apartment too cluttered? (Not at this point). Will it change the flat-rate moving estimate I already locked in? (Possibly, but there may be alternative means of relocating). Mainly, I bought the bench specifically for the space- they were perfect for each other. My current roommate, the one who does not own a fork to her name, will certainly not replace it. In fact, the room will sit empty. If I were to take ALL of the furniture, the room would remain bare until she moves out (sometime this summer- she's waiting to hear back from business school applications as we speak). Part of me has a problem with that space remaining totally naked & furniture-less. Making that space inviting and livable (though seldom used) was one of my priorities when I moved in 2.5 years ago. Even if the breakfast cart is the only thing that is really ever used, we still have to walk through it every day, and I want it to be pretty. What kind of room is a bench-less room anyway? Actually, it is a room that is clearly not my concern any longer... the bench will come with!
Speaking of storage, another thing about New Yorkers I appreciate (now that I've appropriated the right to proudly proclaim the title) is that out of necessity we are creative with our spaces. New York apartments are small. My childhood house had multiple floors and basement to discard all my things that I wanted out of my room but didn't want to part with permanently. Here, I have to justify keeping anything that I don't actively use or need. Apartment living keeps you nimble in that way- not to mention the judicious purchasing habits that evolve out of a finite amount of storage room. Buying new clothes most often involves starting a bag of clothes to give away to charity- hanger space is a precious commodity.
In fourth grade a friend of mine had a walk-in-closet and I am probably still jealous. It was like a secret room attached to her bedroom- her Water Baby doll had its little crib in the closet, as did her bookshelves, toys, a cassette tape player, and games. In fact, her room was perfect and clutter-free, with all the juicy things you want, but want kept hidden, kept in the closet. We built forts in there as kids, and her walk-in-closet inspired me to unroll my sleeping bag in the floor of my own closet and sleep there for over a month.
The new apartment has a fabulous walk-in-closet. I spent two months doodling out possible layouts for shelves, hanging space, and hooks, and then I discovered the Container Store. The pleasure I get from wandering through the isles of a store with the sole purpose of organizing the world (with sleek and modular design, no less) must be similar to the satisfaction a guy gets from flipping through his girlfriends' Victoria Secret catalogues. Yes, there is legitimate business purpose and obvious function to bras & underwear, but it is still essentially soft porn. Isles and isles of sleek Sweedish DVD sized-boxes or matching wooden hangers is like that for me- gratuitous organization.
Half of my closet is assembled already- all the drawer systems. The ceiling tracks and hanging standards protrude from underneath my bed, and all the metal shelving, brackets, and mounting hardware is on that handy bench in my living room. When I close my eyes and imagine a closet built across two walls, with little belt hooks and shoe racks, and hanging space for my professional wardrobe, drawer and shelf space for my weekend and running wardrobes, not to mention shelves for boxes of pictures, extra towels, spare sheets, etc, and my heart rate literally increases.
Very, very soon.
As an added bonus, I also designed the front closet. Last week at the inspection I realized there is already a wood shelf, and that the ceiling may be lower than the living room ceiling. Either the shelf will be removed or I'll ditch the original closet design and start from scratch. Regardless, it looks like I'll be making a trip across town to the Container Store to re-size a few of the hanging standards. Oh well- keeps things interesting.
My next attempt here is to post a few pictures. Upcoming posts will likely cover a) choosing wall colors, b) running relationships, or c) the career-related info. Until then...
