Yes, party people, I moved.
…a few blocks away from my old apartment.
Let’s be real, if I had to leave Bed-Stuy, I would’ve left NYC. But just being a few steps away from 448 has been pretty rough, even with this brand spankin’ new beautiful apartment. I moved to 448 when I was 23 years old and left at 31. I literally grew up in that place.
This was my first time living alone. I watched my landlord get boo’d up. Was there when their son came home from the hospital. One of my best friends got dressed for her wedding in that apartment. Got a cat. It died. Got a new one. Kwanzaa parties. Meltdowns. Makeout sessions with boys I never heard from again. So many friends crashing in my guest room. (yup, had a guest room) Sleeping in my walk in closet when it was blazin’ hip-hop and r&b in the summer. (yup, had a walk in closet) Luxuriating in my vintage claw foot tub listening to music and looking up into my skylight. (yup, my bathroom had a skylight) Nude sunbathing in my living room in the winter because it got the best sunlight. Chillin’ on the stoop as my favorite neighbors passed. Walking to the corner for my Saturday (and sometimes Sunday) breakfasts at Ma’n’Pops Soul Food.
S I G H
In all my sorrow, I feel so blessed to have experienced Bed-Stuy before it was gentrified and rent was still dirt cheap. When neighbors became family and block parties were super live. It was 448 where I literally lived out all of the dreams I had for my 20s.
It’s now at 634 that I can live out the dreams I have for my 30s. My checklist hasn’t really gone past exposed brick and dinner parties, but I’m so excited for what my new space will bring!
Au revoir 448. J’aime bien pour toujours!
Thanks to Candice from Edie’s Closet, for indulging me by taking these photos and standing there whenever I started crying like a dork.