Are you a property owner that wants to sell their condo, investment property or needs to rent an apartment or retail space in New York City? Call or text me: Sam Moritz, licensed real estate agent, 203–209–3640. Do you know a property owner that might need real estate help? Refer me! I provide great and professional real estate services across all five boroughs. This is really long. I don’t really expect people to read it, ha. But thanks for following. I will make the biggest New York City move of my 34 year life in the next couple of months. For the first time in my adult life, I’ll be moving to an apartment outside of North Brooklyn. As the day gets closer, I’ve been reflecting on the apartments, neighborhoods, and sub-neighborhoods that I’ve lived in over the years. Is my upcoming move the result of my experiences from previous moves in different apartments, or just what happens – or what we hope to happen – in life? I’ve lived in some great apartments and neighborhoods over the years, both in North and South Williamsburg, as well as both North and South and Bushwick, and also Salt Lake City, Utah (random story). Part One: The Post-College Party House in Southeast Williamsburg I was born on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and lived there for most of the first nine years of my life before my parents moved me and my brothers to the suburbs. At my very core, I am an Upper West Sider. But twelve years ago, when I was moving to New York City from my parents house, my only real goal was to move to Williamsburg. For whatever reason, I just felt like there was no possible way I would ever live in Manhattan. It seemed too corporate and stuffy. I didn’t want that vibe. Williamsburg seemed cool. Today, Williamsburg, especially the northside, near the water, is fancy. It seems like there’s more upscale shops in the neighborhood than in Soho – not necessarily a bad thing. Although the neighborhood had been going in this direction for a long time, in 2012, I don’t think it was nearly at that point yet (I remember Bedford Avenue when there was no Whole Foods!). I had an Anti-Manhattan sentiment and was drawn to some sort of edge that I thought existed in North Brooklyn. For me, there was no question: I was one hundred percent moving to Williamsburg. At the time, I basically had no interest in living in any other neighborhood. I had two friends from college who shared the same desire – JJ and Mike. We agreed we would find a three bedroom apartment together. I had just turned 23 when we set out looking for units with a real estate agent, who took us to units in Williamsburg and also Bushwick (even though we weren’t that interested in Bushwick). (side note: I feel like we were sort of duped into paying this agent a broker fee when we could have searched ourselves. I was working in tech at the time – would start in real estate about four years later). At the time, we had some friends who were living on Bedford Avenue, on the north side of Williamsburg, right by the Bedford L stop. We wanted to be as close to them as possible. At the end of our search, we were shown an amazing apartment. It was a three bedroom, two full bathroom apartment, on the top floor of a small, newly built “boutique” building (eight units). It had a big (New York City big, so not large) living room, two full bathrooms, and a giant private outdoor deck (the top floor apartments in the building each had a private deck – they were next to each other, separated by a waist-high barrier). There was also a large, shared communal rooftop for the building one flight above us, laundry in the basement, and an elevator. It didn’t matter to me that my bedroom was small, had no closet, and was definitely once part of the living room (it seemed pretty obvious to me they put up a fake wall to make the room, slicing into the living room). We loved the apartment and moved forward immediately, and signed the lease a few days after viewing. We did this even though we had, basically, no idea about the geographic location of this apartment. Yes, we were in Williamsburg, our real estate agent had assured us. The building’s address is 42 Meserole Street, and it’s at the corner of Meserole Street and Lorimer Street, three blocks north from the Lorimer JMZ station and two blocks from the Broadway G stop (also about ten from the Lorimer L stop). We were about a twenty minute walk southeast from Bedford Avenue. At the time of viewing, I didn’t even know a trainline existed in Williamsburg other than the L. |
Because of a couple of factors – including the outdoor space – the apartment became a hub for hanging out and parties – which was fun at first.
My roommate Mike and I had just begun working at the same tech company doing telephone sales. The office was in Lower Manhattan and the company was called SinglePlatform. We were on a large sales team where mostly every member of the team was in their early twenties. We were slinging marketing software over the phone while g-chatting with our colleagues about where we would all go out to after work.
It was a great place to begin our careers: we were paid well if we hit our sales goals, learned a lot about what it takes to really sell, and because we were all the same age, made good friends.
Within a few months of living at 42 Meserole Street, the tenants living in the apartment across the hall moved out. That apartment was the same, mirror image of ours (three bedrooms), and had its own private balcony (which, as I mentioned before, basically was shared with ours).
Mike and I had made some friends at SinglePlatform who needed an apartment. We suggested they check out the newly-empty one across the hall.
They did, decided to move forward, got approved by management, and moved in four months after we moved in.
Other friend connections were being cultivated at SinglePlatform and outside of it. A separate friend group was also formed from some of our friends from school, who connected us with their friends living in the city. The top floor of 42 Meserole Street became the de facto hangout and party headquarters, and I was living, and hosting it, all the time.
At first, I really loved the social arrangement of it all.
Our friends from across the hall would come over, or I’d see them on the porch, open my sliding door and say hi (even though we worked together for a few years – we eventually all left SinglePlatform for other jobs).
Some notable parties were an epic New Years Party ringing in 2014, and four straight years of “Mes-Fest” on our shared building rooftop (get it? Like Meserole Street). It was an all-day party beginning during the day on a Saturday in the summer. We never partied excessively, but we really took advantage of the two apartments on the same hall and the outdoor space.
I really enjoyed the whole hang-out-at-my-apartment-situation for about two years. It was like we were still in college, except we had careers. We weren’t broke students – we were making money.
But while I enjoyed that situation for two years, I lived there for four. And people never stopped hanging out in my living room, right next to my bedroom.
I also started working in real estate three and a half years after moving in – I had gotten laid off from a couple of start-up tech companies a bit suddenly and was ready to move on to something new. I got my real estate license and latched on with local brokerage EXR in January of 2017 (where I still work today, eight years later. I worked briefly at Corcoran, but way prefer working at EXR).
Sometimes, with my new job, I would have to show rental apartments to clients on the weekend – so I wanted to go to bed early. The party situation just beyond the converted wall wasn’t going to cut it.
My roommate Mike had moved out after the first year of us living there. I lived with my other roommate, JJ, each of the four years I was there. There was always a new, rotating third roommate joining us.
We were standing on the porch one weeknight when she asked me what I thought about our potential fifth lease renewal.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.” I told her.
And then she said: “I’m staying. And you’re leaving, Sam. You’re not happy here.”
I was a bit shocked by how straightforward she was – but she was right. I was completely over living in the scene. I was twenty seven – not twenty twenty three – and a lot had changed. I wanted peace and quiet. I didn’t want people hanging out while I was trying to sleep. I wanted to go to the party and leave, not be living in it.
I had to find something new.
I couldn’t afford my own apartment yet, so I’d likely need to have another roommate. But I didn’t want two others, like I had at Meserole (or five others, if you counted our friends who still lived next door).
One roommate would suffice. But I also wasn’t sure I would have the budget, especially just starting out in real estate, to live in a nice two bedroom apartment in Williamsburg, where it’s expensive. Anywhere in Manhattan was out of the question, both in terms of money and who I was at the very core of myself at time – I had pride about living and staying in North Brooklyn.
I was going to Bushwick.
