Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

Two years ago tomorrow, I moved into a little studio apartment in Chelsea, on the western side of Manhattan.  In the interests of transparency, I must tell you I was both tipsy and rather desperate when I viewed the apartment for the first time.  I really needed to find a place to live and seeing the small studio filled with the previous tenant's belongings convinced me (even in my beer-addled state) that I had found my New York home.  I signed the lease, paid the security deposit, and a few weeks later when I finally took custody of the empty apartment, my sober self stared in utter disbelief at the blank slate before me.

Extremely crooked floors.  Low ceiling.  Greying tiles on the bathroom floor.  Noisy radiator.  Lunatic neighbours (though I would learn this much later).  When the movers brought in my furniture, they actually laughed.  What had I done?!

For a time though, I could overlook the apartment's flaws.  "Diamond in the rough" became an oft-uttered phrase around my house.

I painted a bright feature wall - selecting Tiffany Blue (of course), though I had to Google it for the guy in the paint department at Home Depot.  I bought a fantastic striped shower curtain from Kate Spade, some simple but beautiful DKNY curtains and a cheerful, coral-colored bedspread with lots of cushions of different sizes.  I went to Anthropologie and bought blue glass knobs to add pizzazz to my plain kitchen cupboard doors.  I put up some temporary wallpaper in a fantastic peacock print, and even had some house plants for a while (a short while, as is usually the case for me).  I bought artwork, which I never found the confidence ot hang.  I quickly acquired a sleek Nespresso machine in a gorgeous shade of green, which naturally clashed with my fire engine red microwave, but I didn't care.  I put together flatpack kitchen storage, and a cube bookcase (for a literature collection that only ever seemed to grow).  And if the four walls of that one-room studio seemed to close in on me, I just stepped outside into wonderful, eclectic, noisy Chelsea, and I was spoiled with bars and restaurants and art galleries in every direction.

The lease on that studio expires tomorrow and I have chosen not to renew it.  I could turn this post into an acrimonious take-down of the "building management" company, but I really don't have the energy to do that.  Suffice it to say that the last few months of my tenancy were characterised by a leaky ceiling (that was only ever patched up and never properly mended), potentially hostile neighbours that played showtunes at full volume until 4am on weekdays, and lengthy interruptions to our heat, hot water, and cooking gas (the latter is still not connected).  It was definitely time to go.

While I'm certainly not sentimental about the studio apartment I'm leaving behind, I did form attachments to some of the contents (the cheerful bedspread, curtains, and cushions, just to name a few).   Those I'm keeping with me, and will be a beautiful reminder of the effort I made to carve out a little corner of Chelsea for myself.  I bequeathed some of my homewares to friends and colleagues, selling others on Craigslist and donating yet more belongings to thrift stores and even to the local animal shelter (they love used sheets and towels).  I also discovered the fantastic resource called Task Rabbit, where you can hire people to do odd jobs for you.  The guys I contracted to do heavy lifting for me were an absolute godsend.

Real estate prices in Manhattan make it really hard for many people to afford even a studio apartment, so I know how lucky I've been to have had that space to myself for the past two years.  I loved living in Chelsea and the mixed feelings I have about the apartment will never taint the overall fondness I have for the neighbourhood.

But having said all that, when I gathered up my jackets, and moved it to the exits, I knew it was closing time and I was ready to go.  The Chelsea apartment chapter is closed, and the next one is about to begin.

New York's fizzer blizzard

The snow plows still haven't
made it to East 74th Street!

I know it has been a long time between posts, but I've been moving out of my apartment and it has been a particularly stressful time.  The whole process has taught me a lot about the ups and downs of NY real estate and I'll definitely share those stories soon.

For now though, the City is recovering from Winter Storm Juno (aka The Blizzard That Wasn't).  Now I lived in Chicago for nearly four years so I'm used to snowy conditions, but today was my very first Snow Day ever, and I made the most of it with a decent sleep-in, hot cups of tea, and generally not moving too far from the sofa.

All the hype yesterday suggested that Winter Storm Juno was going to bring New York City to an utter standstill, and the commute home last night was really awful.  Buses crawled down the road in almost white-out conditions.  Blustering wind whipped up snowflakes so they seemed to be coming from all sides, ending up stinging your eyeballs and freezing your face.  But even though the going was slow and frustrating, as this gallery from Gothamist shows, a snowy City is still a pretty City.

Buildings signs are still covered by a
dusting of white, clean snow

Residents across New York responded to the Mayor's warnings by clearing out supermarket shelves - bread, milk, artisan cheeses, and lots of potato chips and pretzels.  We also seemed to decide that drinking through the storm was a sensible idea, with alcohol sales in New York and Boston up an impressive 477% percent!

As we all emerged from our collective hangover this morning, NYC residents no doubt expected to see a City paralysed by white-out snow, no cabs, and mass transit shut-downs.  The reality was different of course.  

Manhattan still ended up with about 8 inches of snow courtesy of Winter Storm Juno, and the streets were eerily quiet the day after, but the Mayor was right - we dodged a bullet, ending up with only about a third of the snow that was initially forecast.

Touring New York's "Cathedral of Commerce"

In 1878, Frank Woolworth invented the concept of the "five and dime" discount store - a place where everything cost either 5 or 10 cents, and all the merchandise was on display.  Shoppers could see and touch what they wanted to buy; they didn't need shop assistants to fetch things for them.  We take this practice for granted these days but back then, Woolworth's retail model was revolutionary.  And his customers loved it so much that by 1911, when Mr Woolworth formally founded his company, he was worth many millions of dollars.

Business was going so well that Woolworth hired a famous architect named Cass Gilbert to design his company's corporate headquarters on Broadway, further requesting that it should be the tallest building in the world.  Gilbert had designed the beautiful US Customs House in New York a few years before, so Woolworth was confident he would design something extra special.  Gilbert got to work and two years later, in 1913, The Woolworth Building was complete.

 It stood proud at 793 feet tall and was, as requested, the tallest building in the world (at that time).  To secure such a record, Woolworth is purported to have kicked in the cash for the building's tower out of his own pocket (more than $13 million!).  But the investment was worth it because at the opening ceremony, the majestic Woolworth Building was declared by many to be New York's "Cathedral of Commerce".

Now back in the early days of skyscrapers, the giant Woolworth Building would have been a tourist drawcard in itself.  People marveled at the neo-Gothic architecture, the gargoyles, and intricate carvings around the main entrance.  But inside, office workers had down time at the indoor swimming pool, the day spa, the observation deck, and the restaurant and retail stores in the lower level.  And the subway even used to run right underneath, so commuting to and from the tallest building in the world was a breeze.

All of these attractions aside, I reckon that even back when the Woolworth Building was first constructed, people must have remembered it for the same reason that we do today: the lobby.  When he designed the lobby, Cass Gilbert totally outdid himself.  It is a beautifully ornate, almost church-like space.  The ceiling has tiny mosaic tiles all over it,  some of which have been coated with gold leaf to give them extra sparkle.  Tiffany won the contract to design the lobby's elevator doors, and they are especially fancy.  There are marble carvings in the cornices - some of them depict leading figures of the time (including Cass Gilbert himself, cradling a plaster model of the building - see below), but other carvings are those of nonsense characters, put there for a bit of fun.

Another fun detail is the inclusion of salamanders in the carvings.  Did you know that according to legend, salamanders are impervious to flames and can actually extinguish fire?  Apparently, lots of buildings all across New York City have salamanders featured in their carvings and metalwork etc to protect the buildings from fire hazards (figuratively, at least).  The Woolworth Building was constructed to stand the test of time - fire safety was foremost in Cass Gilbert's mind and the only wood in the whole place was actually in the banisters in the internal stairwells.  Superstitious though it may be, you can see the salamanders in the gold work of the mailboxes in the Woolworth Building lobby (see him on the bottom left of the photo here?).  Needless to say, I will have to keep my eyes open for more salamanders in other buildings from now on!

You used to be able to wander in off the street and browse the Woolworth Building lobby but not anymore.  These days, access is by guided tour only (you can book them online here), but it's absolutely worth it.  The lobby of the Woolworth Building is just beautiful.  I did a one-hour tour yesterday and our guide (Lisa) was sensational.  She confessed to spending much of her private time at the New-York Historical Society, reviewing the original plans of the building and reading the original correspondence about its construction and development, which they have stored in their archives there.  The trivia Lisa shared with us came from her own exhaustive research, not from anything she parroted from the internet or read off some tired tour script.  It was absolutely wonderful and well worth the $30 ticket price.  I only pasted a couple of photos from the tour because so many of them were blurry, or just didn't do the splendor of the lobby justice.  I would definitely encourage you to add the Woolworth Building to your bucket list of NYC adventures.