Dear Studio Life
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” — Winnie the Pooh
I write this as I do laundry for the last time at the Laundromat five blocks away! MetroWash I will not miss you.
Last time you ask? Yes. I’m moving. I’ll save the moving in with boyfriend, new adventure, excited for those in between moments for another post or love letter to my boyfriend. This is my love letter to studio living.
TL;DR (because this goes on to being a very long journal entry stream of thought).
2021 marks ten years of living alone and in a studio. #studiolife I like to call it. Maybe it’s because I overshare but I’m pretty sure every single person, coworker, and even new coworkers know I live in a studio. Living in a tiny studio is one of the many things that has shaped who I am and been a part of my identity. I’ve lived in tiny spaces, some with mini fridges and no freezers, sacrificing space to live in the heart of a city for years. Laughter, tears, heartbreak, lust, failed recipes, SATC binges, mini Christmas trees, solo dance parties, cooking for one, in these four walls.
But life is all about adventure… and celebration! And more space. I’m excited, and a little terrified in the best way possible, to take this leap into cohabitating with someone I love! And in a space that’s actually big enough to fit both of our studios in separate rooms and a peloton!! (priorities) It’ll feel like a MANSION. My little studios have been so memorable. And while I am beyond excited for this next chapter, I’ll really miss my studio life because I really do love it.
My first studio was 41 Jane Street. It was TINY. The tiniest of the three. Mini fridge with no counter space in a tiny kitchen to the right of the front door. An actual normal sized bathroom in front of the front door. A very small coat closet (the only one) to the left of the front door and to the left of that a… 10x10? I don’t actually understand measuring apartments, but it was small. It was my own! I remember the first night perfectly. I was soo nervous to sleep alone. Called my sis who lived alone and she reassured me it’ll take some getting used to but it’s awesome. Jane Street- this super small street in the West Village. Quintessential NYC. I thought… maybe I’ll name my future daughter Jane! I ran the westside highway in the snow at like 6am (youth), became obsessed with Soul Cycle, didn’t have a TV. I remember sitting on my fire escape admiring the unique view of my tiny studio, became an Aria local, and… had a cockroach infestation. It.was.horrific. Dead ones just randomly everywhere. Then crawling ones. Then crawling ones on my sink and in my clothes. So I broke my lease.
I was searching for anywhere — subleasing, roommates, other studios and I learned a great life lesson in that search. I had a boyfriend at the time and thought… well I do go there sometimes soo maybe roommates wouldn’t be horrible. I’m sure my sister gave the advice of don’t make a decision based on someone else! Glad I didn’t because soon after I moved into the most perfect studio I got dumped! 222 West 17th Street. I looved that studio. That place will always be home. It was insanely cheap. $1500 cheap! Bigger than Jane but still teensie. Had a shared courtyard and the best manager ever Carmello! Four incredible years with truly endless memories. I remember having a horrible flu laying on the floor calling my doctor crying “what do you do when you live alone and I can barely move?! what if I die?!” He said keep your phone near you. J’s Pizza. I went so much they’d wave at me during the day walking by and let me pay later when I had no cash. First heartbreak. I remember doing the Whole30 and a blizzard hit — sober, hungry, single. Survived! And I remember the day I left that apartment, which was also the weekend I was leaving NYC after 8 years. I cried to Carmello wondering if I should have kept it to always have a place in NYC. Then moved to a city I didn’t like.
2385 California Street. Bigger… still a dollhouse as Shawn calls it. (So there was a year break in studio living when I moved to SF because it’s hard moving cross country having not a clue what you’re doing. And this comes after hating SF for a year…) I love this studio. And I started loving SF maybe 6 months into live in this studio. It’s very SATC. The walk in closet takes you to the bathroom. It’s on California Street- so CA of me. And It’s on Fillmore — a street I always loved and thought “I want to live there!” This studio has trash pick up THREE times a week at 4–7am with trash from all our Fillmore store friends and eight steps it clunks up. It comes with a very old and very nice man who plays his TV so loudly I could hear every word. Came briefly with a VERY loud neighbor sex situation. And I made a neighbor friend who is now a real actually friend although I still call her neighbor friend Monica. I survived/still surviving a pandemic in this studio! Fell in love with the parks nearby, made friends with Santino’s, shared baked goods with neighbor Monica, cried, laughed, turned the space into a fitness studio. Measured like eight times to see if I could fit a Peloton bike (I couldn’t). I onboarded over 1000 people from my home studio office. Left a job, started a new job. And I met the guy I’m moving in with while living in this little studio.
So there you have it. No ground breaking stories, but moments that I’ll cherish forever. Independence, no rules, binge watch TV while staring at instagram, snoozing for 20 minutes and soaking up my comfy bed, making late night mac n cheese just because I want it, literally doing whatever I want whenever I want. But I’ve learned that independence doesn’t go away! I’m excited to do shared activities, solo activities, binge watch shows together or separately, cook, paint, read, go out, stay in, and live alone, but together. Stay tuned for my next essay on compromise and all that magical things that come with not living in a studio.
