At Home in SoHo
Photographed by Hanna Tveite
New York City’s perpetual motion is the product not of madding crowds but of individuals densely packed and going about the business of their lives in ways that are as deliberate as they are diverse. This urban entropy can be energizing, especially when balanced by quiet moments in uncluttered spaces. One such place—The Apartment by The Line—is the setting for a week of daily rituals aided by beautiful and useful things.
Monday, 7:30 a.m.
Staycation. Never one to endorse neologisms of this sort, I’ve resigned myself to it in describing this week, in which I will attempt not to work, not to organize, not even to consolidate my multiple to-do lists into one grand unified theory of outstanding obligations. Instead I will stay home, relax, enjoy the neighborhood before the weather snaps to frigid attention. I will read. I will listen. I will watch and observe and see, not necessarily in that order. My plan is ambitious only in its lack of ambition. I decide to go back to bed.
Tuesday, 2:45 p.m.
The day is off to a delightfully slow start until I recall the birthday gift for B, which is still on the kitchen table rather than en route to Palo Alto. It’s a black glass container from Lyngby that reminds me of the flying saucer candies that B hoarded ferociously as a kid—those pastel domes filled with tiny sugar pearls. Of course I filled the container with the candies, which in the course of purchasing online I learned are in some regions known as “satellite wafers.” I add more bubble wrap to the box, seal it up, cross my fingers, and head to the post office.
If only every day could begin with a baguette from Balthazar. The rare morsel that survives breakfast mysteriously retains its optimal crispy-crustiness for the rest of the day.
Explore another chapter in The Stories:
Essential Evolution: Georgia Lazzaro Takes the Helm at Protagonist