![]() ![]() ![]() Not only was it tiny, it was in terrible shape as well. It was 13′ x 13′, and that included the kitchen, bathroom, and entry ![]() In my first term in grad school, I rented an amazingly cheap “penthouse”, at the top of a brownstone on 103rd Street. even so, the toilet was frozen solid every I stapled plastic sheeting to the walls, hopped around in a sleeping bag when home and left the oven on all the time. The next week the temperature dropped and I discovered that the apartment ![]() One awful winter our window was stuck open for a month.Īfter splitting up with a girlfriend in December ‘85 (we lived in Bed-Stuy) I sublet a very narrow Murray Hill floor-through for $300. – No heat (my shampoo would freeze in the winter) I would turn the stove onĪnd sit on top of it with the door open for heat. – Water pouring from light fixtures because of leaks in the building. The apartment looked great, 3 bedrooms, eat-in-kitchen, one bath and a walk-in closet! Except: Being only 23 years old and just out of college, it was an interesting first apartment experience in the city. Wasn’t too bad and occasionally I joined in but his friends were a little My first shared apartment was a good deal, however, my roommate never told me during the initial interview he was a practicing nudist. We may not have had much in the way of space or material possessions, We did have a private bathroom, so in that respect I guess we were more lucky than most. We would shower with our dishes to wash them. We had a small refrigerator and a microwave, but no We hung our clothes from the window and used them as curtains. At night whenĪll of our beds were open there was no empty space in the apartment. We had a twin trundle bed and a small futon. I had a female roommate and a male roommate. The total rent was $445.36, which we split three ways. I lived in an SRO (single room occupancy), which is government-subsidized housing for the poor. I grew up in suburban New York and moved to the Upper West Side of Manhattan when I was 18 years old. So hot in there that I would sometimes sleep on the roof and be awoken in the morning by the blazing sun, the smell of chemicals and garbage, and helicopters hovering overhead. There was a baby doll factory downstairs and there would often be dumpsters filled with doll parts outside. One summer I lived in a poorly built room in a warehouse next to a toxic waste dump in Bushwick. Unfortunately, not the prince I was looking for. Had freed in the garden would mush itself against the windowpane at night, and croak to me at all hours. I did have company, though after all: A giant African bullfrog one of the roommates Was near the ceiling and looked out into the dirt of the garden) across my duvet over my chest, to a muffin on my nightstand. My 8 x 8 subterranean room was $500 but also wet and cold, and one morning I woke up to find an ant line marching from the window (which I thus chose to live with eight people in a “duplex” (read: first floor and dank,ĭark basement) on 6th and Avenue C after they wooed me with a backyard BBQ. Two days ago my husband and I just closed on a 2 BR 2 bath apartment off of CPW,īut I love our new place as much as I loved that broom closet.Īfter I broke up with my live-in boyfriend, at 22, I wanted the camaraderie and company of roommates above all else. Was 1998, my first year of law school, and I had to fight off seven other applicants for the privilege of living in the closet. At night I could hear chefs cooking in the kitchen restaurant next door. While sitting on the futon you could open the oven door and use it as a footstool, it was so close. It was on the first floor of a pre-war walk-up in the West Village and I believe it was previously used as the janitor’s broom closet. My first apartment in Manhattan was quite literally a closet. Here is a slide show of the best photos, as well as a collection of the best of the worst stories, lightly edited. Lack of heat, leaking ceilings and vermin were common nightmares, as were loud prostitutes.īut despite it all – and, for some, because of it – most people recounted their horror stories fondly remembering a younger self, and a more liberated life. Some moaned, some chastized and some gloated - someone even sent in some haikus. Market and asked readers to share their stories and photos of terrible New York apartments. Two weeks ago, Constance Rosenblum wrote about several 20-something New Yorkers who were struggling to live comfortably in the city’s rental However there were no extra bedrooms, which left me sleeping in the closet.” See the slide show Vaughn Vance “Old friends of mine had a place on East Second Street where I was welcomed to stay. ![]()
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