Those bitches lied to me.

Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte lied to me.

They made it seem like any gal could lead a charmed life in New York City. But believe you me, it aint true.

Carrie’s a writer and before she hit it Big, she lived in a cute one-bedroom plus alcove plus big closet apartment on a quaint tree-lined street. West Village, perhaps? In real life, she’d live on the Upper East Side (way east, probably under a bridge) or over on Amsterdam with the men who like to make chittering noises and unwanted sexual comments in foreign languages (really, it’s better not to know).

Miranda’s an attorney. So, ok, that makes sense.

Samantha’s in PR. Which, I’ve known ladies in PR and none of them lived in luxury Tribeca lofts with city views. And I don’t recall Samantha representing the crème de la crème of clientele (I mean, Smith Jared was sexy, but he was a struggling actor for pete’s sakes).

And Charlotte, she’s the worst of the lot. Her employer was an art gallery, and she, a glorified sales lady-slash-docent. I have a graduate degree in Art Business, and so I know that unless your name is on the door of a gallery, then a posh Park Avenue penthouse is not an earned lifestyle.

And they went out for drinks and dinners, brunches at Balthazar and Pastis, and high-end parties on high-end rooftops. Do you know how much a Cosmo costs in this town? It is unconscionable that they downed as many as often as they did.

And I am made of aware of this now as I feel like I have a great job, am making ends meet, would like to upgrade my digs, and am smacked square in the face with the fact that apartment hunting in New York City is both a trial and tribulation. The Sex and the City lifestyle does not exist for regular people, and thus, we are left to fend for ourselves in the sea of crap that is rental real estate. And what’s worse is that this city is dominated by brokers who charge a fee roughly equivalent to an arm and a leg, and there’s little one can do to avoid it. And the options out there just make me want to cry. Manhattan is full of run-down, scary, vermin-ridden apartments. Or worse yet, decrepit co-ops filled with crotchety, decrepit tenants who have been under rent control for twice my lifespan, and who have no tolerance for anyone or anything. They’re paying 1956 prices for a 1922 apartment, and by golly, they want to keep any young’ns out of their building. If you’re not within a decade of certain death, then you’re a no-good troublemaker (that’s what you are!). I’ve even gone so far as to look off the island, and into Queens. Which, to my shock, I actually really like. Not those sketchy industrial parts mind you, but right on the water, with a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline – you can’t deny that. And I made the mistake early on at looking at new apartments – the kind with loft-style layouts, gourmet kitchens, floor-to-ceiling windows, and amenities like a party bbq roof deck. It’s hard to be impressed by anything after that. My boyfriend and I are trying to find just the right compromise of space and aesthetics (and an actual usable kitchen – you’d be surprised how challenging this is!) within a reasonable budget. Something’s got to come through that will make us both smile (or at least one of us not grimace) – It has to. It will. Keepin the faith, Yes We Can!

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One thought on “Those bitches lied to me.

  1. Shima:

    Parts of Queens are indeed nice. Lots of ethnic neighborhoods
    which are fun to explore and food shop in.

    Have you thought of across the river inNJ? My impression (from my brother who lives in Bloomington NJ) is that there is more variety (rentals in private houses for example) and less snobbery. The PATH train service is pretty good according to him.

    Good luck with the task ahead!

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