I was pretty lucky — most of my ’06 friends moved to New York after graduation. Better, most of them moved to Brooklyn. “Pretty close,” I thought. “I can just jump on a Shortline Bus any weekend and hang out with them. Brooklyn is cool!” I had long seen myself living in Brooklyn after graduation. It would be necessary to check out my new home.
From the summer parties at Cornell, to Facebook correspondences, I promised them earnestly that I would visit and see their New Lives. Due to combined unfortunate events, however, I was only able to visit them last weekend.
I had only been to Brooklyn once before, during my sweltering Internship Summer. I had walked around briefly, but I distinctly remember being overjoyed to see squat old buildings, a low-hanging sky, trees, strollers and quiet traffic instead of the overpowering skyscrapers and sweating asphalt of Manhattan. Since then, I have had a vision of quiet, romantic, yet sufficiently urbane Brooklyn. My recent visit changed things.
Towards the end of a delicious, elegant meal with David’s family on the Upper West Side, I received a text message from Dave Garman ’06: “hey we r @ annex … free vodka!” Too nervous to take a subway at that hour, I hailed a cab and bit my nails at the change of each digit on the meter. I found the club easily and upon walking in through the doors I was suddenly awash in ear-splitting rock-and-roll, dim red lighting and asymmetrical haircuts. Everyone looked awesome. The band was awesome. Dave and Julia were the lives of the party. It was seriously, seriously cool.
Many hours later, we headed to their home, where I would be staying for the weekend, in the West Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn. On this drive westward, my boozy mind became aware, almost urgently so, that these very streets and houses I was cruising by would become my home next year. I too, was very likely to join the post-college stampede to this one borough. Flowing trashcans, bums errant and glorious graffiti would replace the steep hills, unsalted roads and hunched-over students. The significance of alcohol aside, I spent the rest of the weekend as a sponge, absorbing every detail of my afterlife to come.
Dave and Julia’s apartment was absolutely amazing. It was originally a factory, once a strip joint and now a home for the fresh-faced and free. The rooms were enormous, with ceiling-to-floor windows, and just decrepit enough that the resident artists could paint Marie Antoinette murals with abandon. It was the child of Rent and Friends. It had great party potential. However, when I walked outside in the morning in search of breakfast, the scene was slightly different. There was zero traffic, old trash everywhere, spooky lots and the occasional shady passerby. Shaking in my Upstate shoes, I avoided eye contact at all costs (until I got on the subway, the people-watcher’s dream.)
I got off two stops later at Bedford Avenue, to see Nicole. The neighborhood was much more inhabited and developed, so I breathed a little easier. However, I found a new condition of living. This neighborhood had a very, very distinct feel. It was hip. Everywhere, there were hip restaurants, hip stores, hip coffeeshops, hip people. Hip, hip, hip. This, I was informed, was Williamsburg, the Hub of Hipsterdom.
Here at Cornell, I know a lot of hipsters (hi Fanclub Collective!) and am very, very fond of them. The truth is (as I discovered after my city sojourn), they are Hipsters Lite, removed from the hubbub of a real city and with lots of homework. Cornell hipsters are less intense, more digestible. The entire population of Williamsburg is a big pile of cool. For blocks and blocks around, there are only over-styled hair, ironic tattoos and whimsical combinations of thrift-store treasures. Most other places, hipsters will stand out while people gawp, secretly envying their coolness. On Bedford Avenue, they all looked the same to me, and it looked crazy. It was difficult to imagine settling there.
Dave, Julia and Nicole, however, were insanely happy. The loved the energy of the neighborhood and made friends at every jostle in the crowded bar. Their jobs kept them busy for a nice portion of the day and then had tons of free time to enjoy the city. They once admitted to missing the coziness and structure of campus and Collegetown life, but now they had fully settled in and were living New York up.
I was heartened to see that my friends had ended up where they wanted to be. Brooklyn makes sense, people say. It’s where our kind, the newly graduated, somewhat employed should and will go. After four years of school, Brooklyn is exciting and refreshing. It was tremendously fun to visit, but I think I could only keep it to visits — I couldn’t settle in a 24-hour Place to Be. I’ll instead be dreaming of quieter places, preferably populated by nice old people and family-owned grocery stores. That would be perfect. But, I haven’t the faintest clue where that’ll be — my new home in the great hereafter.
Erin Geld is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at esg24@cornell.edu. The Sampling appears alternate Wednesdays.