I Love NY (Again)

My Short-Lived Breakup with the City

Photograph by Ted Croner: Central Park South, 1947-48/Printed 2003

I first lived in NYC for one year in 1994 (give or take—who knows when there is no digital way to track it!). It was meant to be a 10-day trip, but I ended up getting several small gigs and then a real job at ELLE magazine. I lived with roommates on St. Marks Place above Yaffa Cafe for several months, before moving into a sublet in the (then) hinterlands of 57th between 9th and 10th.

When I met Matt in ‘96, I moved into his charming one bedroom on W. 4th St between 6th and MacDougal. It was a dream apartment—a 4th-floor walk up with a working fireplace, beautiful details, a sunny kitchen, and a quiet bedroom that looked out over a garden and into glowy apartments at night. It was around the corner from Cotan, our favorite Japanese restaurant (which we still mourn), half a block from Washington Square Park (where we got engaged, and which I probably lapped thousands of times with my dog Walter). But most importantly, it was the beginning of our life together, and our life as parents. We—or rather, I—outgrew it by the time Clara was three. Matt was traveling all the time as a photographer, and I couldn’t handle the dog walking with a toddler and all the other stuff that comes with a walkup. Our friends Chris and Pilar wooed us to Park Slope, Brooklyn, where we lived two blocks away from each other (in a ground and first floor apartment with a yard), and had 15 idyllic years of raising our kids together.

From left: Henry Guzmán Mitchell, Clara Hranek, and Walter, in Washington Square Park, pre-Brooklyn move

Once our daughter went off to college in Edinburgh, which coincided with the end of the pandemic, we didn’t have to be in one place anymore, and started traveling like mad. We decided to experiment with what it would be like to rent an apartment in Rome, and loved it. (It helps that it isn’t a very expensive habit—rents and cost of living there are a fraction of what they are in NYC.) After two years of spending less than 75 days a year in our Brooklyn apartment, we finally decided to give up what had essentially become an expensive landing pad/storage unit. We took six weeks to do it—spending all of July and the first half of August going through everything, and finally said goodbye to our city lives here. There were lots of tears—but we felt ready. We were over it, we said. We still had our weekend place in Upstate New York, and when we’d come to NYC, we’d either just rush upstate, or we’d stay in hotels.

We first returned last October, spending most of the month here, and then again in late November and all of December. We got to stay in some incredible hotels—Fouquet’s, The Aman, The Greenwich, The Lowell, The Fifth Avenue Hotel, Nine Orchard—all great fodder for Yolo Journal. We also got to experience the city and different neighborhoods in a way we hadn’t in ages. But by November, I was over it. All the moving around, the planning, the packing—when people would ask me where I was based, I’d launch into some long blablabla about how I had no idea. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. Rome is great, but it isn’t my home. I wasn’t missing our Park Slope place, but I was missing the feeling of belonging. While at the SFO airport, we ran into an old friend, and it came up that the building that he and his wife own had an apartment that would soon be available. Not just an apartment, a grail moment—rent controlled. We went to see it, loved it immediately, and fast forward to two weeks ago: we moved into a small pied-a-terre on the Upper East Side.

At least every other day one of us will say “Don’t you just love it here?” and feel excited about it like we did when we first moved to New York (even on the nastiest weather days). We run into friends, have spontaneous lunch dates, and friends pop in (when they have doctor’s appointments nearby!). While I’m so glad we had our Park Slope years, it’s really nice to have this next chapter in Manhattan.

Hoexter’s martini; Albertine bookstore

Neither Matt nor I have ever lived on the Upper East Side before. I only ever came uptown for the chiropractor, the museums, and the occasional drink at Bemelmans. When we did our big NYC Black Book, I earmarked plenty of places I wanted to go (Elio’s, Nectar!), and now I can actually walk to them! Plus, since I circle the neighborhood multiple times a day with Prune, I’m making so many discoveries (which I’ll be writing about soon!). I’d also venture to say it’s the friendliest neighborhood in the city. Everyone is so nice. Or are we nicer? Whatever it is, I’m happy, I feel grounded, and I don’t feel like leaving.

Same view, different day