IKEA is the opposite of a breakdown.

It’s happy. It’s affordable. It’s almost like going to Sweden if you squint your eyes a bit and avoid both the parking lot and the bathrooms. In any time of personal turmoil, it is a faithful reminder to Think Nordic!—aka: pare down/tap into nature/go full hygge—and all will (presumably) be well.

The Code of IKEA, from top left: 1) Opt for the basics w/ some Scandinavian ✨✨ 2) stylishly suit up for schlepping 3) thrift the vintage classics whenever you can 4) go w/friends (a solo trek is mega restorative, too).

Not least of all, the jumbo yellow floor arrows are a powerful reminder that if we don’t feel like thinking or using our internal GPS for about an hour, we 100% do not have to.

This story wasn’t even on our editorial calendar, but knowing IKEA’s latest special Konstrunda collection was dropping today—22 pieces of décor/objects/textiles designed by seven artists + designers with an aim to broaden the art-fueled touch-points in our homes (Konstrunda translates to Art Tour)—I had to do it. And so, that’s what we’ve got today—my most favorite pieces from this brand-new limited collection, as well as a handful of other new releases absolutely worth adding to your IKEA watchlist (I did, too:). Before we get into it, a very tiny bit of ATA partner 🏆…

Thank you, Helix, for being one of our favorite ATA partners/supporters here. It’s the last call for their most excellent Labor Day special w/up to 30% off Helix’s select ultra-cozy mattresses (take their clever quiz if you’re curious which one might be right for you). Their mattresses have made a big difference in our home + lives, not just at bedtime...which is truly worth every penny ♥️. #Helixpartner #ad

OKAY…let’s get into it/låt oss komma in i det!🇸🇪…xxCb

1. KONSTRUNDA Vase, $39.99

This comes in a tall version, too, and I’m torn between using this wider one for pens/magic markers or the taller one for kitchen utensils. Designed by Emanuele Stamuli, the style is reminiscent of Ettore Sottsass and the best high-contrast bits that make the Memphis Design Movement still so influential and timeless.

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In the absence of anything resembling a vacation, I still feel wildly lucky that I got to spend the last three months doing a handful of things I love…because sometimes work can feel a lot like play, too. IE: Excavating and packing up the doctor’s office and prepping for the demo team to come in, biking Raffi to summer camp, growing our own cucumbers that despite my sad little gardening techniques really THRIVED (even if our tomatoes did not), lots of writing and art, and oc an obscene amount of THRIFTING.

Because while I have a lot of restraint with many things, thrifting is not one of them. These spontaneous micro adventures are perhaps my favorite kind of escape, because they take me out of myself and plop me into other people’s stories + worlds I could never have imagined existed (scroll to the end and you’ll know what I mean:). The other day, I was editing what I’ve written so far in the draft of our first ATA booklet, A Tiny Guide to Thrifting, and this little graf kind of captures what I mean…

Thrifting makes me think of the old folk story of the Velveteen Rabbit. The rabbit is a toy until a child loves it…and that love, like a potion, makes the rabbit real. That is also thrifting to me, and maybe to you. A thing that we go in search of or find when we aren’t even looking comes alive under our gaze, in our hands, like a heart that begins to beat because we alone noticed its beauty on a shelf in a thrift store in the Middle of Nowhere.

Yep, thrifted this old (kind of smelly) Miró book. Photo by Kris Mae Weiss.

Today’s edition of ATA is a lot about soaking up all the beauty I could this past summer, (despite all the sweating 👹)—kicking off w/ the most special things that happened, followed by the most enchanting gems I found at thrift stores + yard sales, not to mention all the prettiest/most respectable things I spotted up for grabs on the sidewalks, too. And so, happy almost-end-of-summer…and let’s get into it…xxCb

1. Adam Dressner painted our family portraits.

And I wish I could bottle how I felt when he showed me Phoebe. For some reason the sound got cut off at the beginning, but you get the gist. He captured all of us so perfectly; each one makes me melt. If you happen to be in Washington Square Park in NYC anytime soon, look for his striped umbrella, and if the wait isn’t too long, have him paint your portrait in exchange for a donation. Each painting took about 30 minutes, which seems utterly miraculous considering how astonishing they are + full of LIFE. This Sunday we will be picking up our new cat (I’m crying just typing that). Which is why I think I wanted to share this with you again. Phoebe4ever ♥️.

2. I booked my first Interiors project.

Even though I have a lot of experience creating special feelings in unusual spaces, I am not a formal interior designer. That said, when a friend asked for my help in transforming her newly expanded studio space on Elizabeth Street (with this massive industrial skylight, yowza!!), I could not say no. I pulled in Kevin as well as my former colleague and interiors stylist Alyssa to partner with me on the project. It’s early days, but I cannot tell you how excited I am to create a special space with other people I respect + care about. More soon!

3. I did some essential summer thrifting with BUICK.

Scenes from some of our thrifting adventures w/Buick this summer, photographed by my dear friend Kris Mae Weiss.

#Ad **I am very much in the camp that cars can be soulmates—imprinting on us and becoming a real connection during some profound chapters in our lives. That said, we were over the moon to have a chance to work with Buick and experience their 2026 Buick Enclave Avenir for the past month, particularly as we begin the rigorous prep work for our 1964 doctor’s office renovation. The Buick Enclave’s luxuriously roomy cargo space has been a total game-changer (and so easy to switch back and forth between seats and/or space). And, while I did not have a giant table or sofa to transport, I really wanted one just to do it with ease in this beautiful car. As with everything I surround myself with and integrate into my everyday life, I look for the timelessness of something. And that’s especially true given the investment a great car poses. The Buick Enclave really made its mark in our family’s world, particularly its knack for turning home chores and errands into everyday acts of pleasure (let’s hope our reno rolls out the same way:). Thank you, Buick Enclave, for being a part of this journey with us. Click HERE to learn more. #BuickEnclave #Buick

4. I went to the opposite of a Beach.

My friend Sheri and I had a very NYC night this summer + caught the Live recording of Fashion Neurosis at the Tribeca Film Festival featuring Bella Freud interviewing Laurie Anderson. At one point they switched spots on the couch, and Laurie interviewed Bella. PS: I recently re-listened to Bella’s episode with Zadie Smith, too, which is SO GOOD if you have an hour to yourself to spare…it’s glorious.

5. I reunited with an old friend/colleague.

There is nothing cooler/more fun than circling back to someone you used to love working with. John McDonald, who is most known for owning/running many marvelous NYC restaurants, including Lure Fishbar, first came into my life back in the late ‘90s when he asked me to be his editor on a tiny startup design magazine called CITY. Over the years, we’ve both moved around, grown/changed businesses, become parents, and somehow found our way back to collaborating again. While he was building his dining empire, he also managed to grow one of the most robust and active audiences on Substack (close to a million subscribers (!!). When he asked me to help him rebrand his newsletter and carry it into a new era, it felt a little like coming home again. We named it On the House and you can read all about it here. It’s strange, but sometimes going back can also feel like going forward ❤️.

A photo I found that I took when I worked at CITY in the late ‘90s/early aughts, when I shot with film and apparently read magazines on a beach. More of my old life in magazines HERE ↓.

+OKAY!

Here are my MOST favorite things I’ve thrifted (so far) this summer…I mean we still have a Memorial Day weekend to come and I PROMISE YOU, I will not waste it.

Left: Bach in the bin. Right: Still my favorite yard sale sign ever.

1. Vtg canisters that look like a Brady Bunch sunset, $8.

When I shared these in our chat thread, almost all of you immediately told me to go for it, even though they look suspiciously like I could have scored them at the Brady Bunch estate sale. I listened, and they will be filled to the brim w/cookies soon enough.

2. Hand-made pocket door, $5.

Scored at a yard sale I spotted while riding bikes with Raffi. Turns out it was made by the same carpenter who built the house hosting the yard sale. Apparently it had been sitting in their garage for 20 years waiting for a purpose…which—surprise!!—turned out to be ME. I even asked Kevin to alter one of the closet dimensions to accommodate this door in our doctor’s office reno design. $5, can you stand it?!! And the lift the owner gave us hauling it home was totally FREE.

3. Six vtg L’Arte Moderna Italian design magazines, $12.

GOD! They DO NOT make magazines like this anymore, where the paper-stock alone could give you a mild heart attack. Also, 100% Italian, which despite not being able to read the articles made them a WIN WIN/vincere vincere! About a week after I found them, it rained biblically, so Raffi and I chose one of the covers to draw together…anyone want it? And, if you’re near Winter Park, FL, someone is selling this epic collection of them on FB Marketplace…woo!

4. Set of 4 vtg Clark Murray abstract paintings, $100.

Did I need four of these that all look vaguely similar? NO, I did not. But I had to buy them as a set, so HERE WE ARE.

5. Wood winery crates, $13/pair.

Found these abandoned by the checkout at our local Goodwill (someone must have changed their mind and split). I can’t wait to stow bottles of water and wine in them ASAP.

**A quickie moment of PAID love for our friends over at Helix who wanted me to remind all of you that their Labor Day sale w/up to 30% off on select mattresses is still running HOT🔥🔥 (but never sweaty 😅). And I am proud to share that we just upgraded Raf’s Brooklyn bed to a new Helix kid’s version, too. I can say with full confidence that theirs are the coziest, most restorative mattresses I’ve ever slept on…and they don’t cost a king’s ransom either. #Helixpartner #ad

6. Nearly new wellies found on the sidewalk, FREE.

I swear, she will be wearing my shoes soon, she’s growing so fast. I was literally walking home from the train a few weeks ago, making a mental tally of all the new things I need to buy for her for school since all of her pants lately look a lot like shorts (or shants??). As if sent from the Lord Herself, I came upon these cherry-red wellies in HER SIZE on a stoop…fate. It reminded me that I also need a good-looking pair for myself for our impending Hurricane season. What do we think of these Hunters as something basic and dependable but also CUTE?

Also, not to go off topic, but as I was creating a link for these, a pop-up window served me these not obscenely priced striped cotton Cadets pants, which are, dare I say ADORABLE. Do we love them in blue or in red? Red, right?

7. Vtg Eames-style molded fiberglass bar stools, FREE.

As soon as I saw these I called a friend to go and grab them. Despite an old friend calling this shade the “saddest color alive,” I will always have a soft spot for this sort of taupe.

8. Vintage etched glass bell jar/lantern, FREE

When I first spotted this on the sidewalk in a cardboard box by the trash, I was sure it was cracked or broken in some unsalvageable/tragic way. But NO…it was perfect, if not for some dust. It’s really quite exquisite and I can’t wait to wire it into the entryway of the Dr.’s Inn project. Plus, when we add a dimmer…DAMN, this will be PRETTY. (PS: Link to a similar 19th-century style on Ruby Lane for about $2k, too 😳). Yep, I did GOOD.

9. Vintage Andreas Hansen Danish settee, $175.

Nothing makes me swoon like shapely furniture that’s actually super comfortable. We chatted about this in our thread after I found it, but the original wool fabric is still so vibrant but also hella itchy. So, on my last visit to the Maharam textiles showroom, I took some photos of a few recycled faux shearlings that I thought could be beautiful and quite decadent for this gorgeous piece. Mixed with different patterned pillows…it’s going to be SO good.

10. Haul from a yard sale including a very old wire egg basket, $10.

Raffi and I were riding bikes when I saw the Yard Sale sign…she insisted on getting the bear, too, which much to my relief was not disgusting. The basket ended up in the bench we found last week at the REI store closing for $60 and has come in handy for bringing in ripe vegetables from the garden.

11. Plastic neon fruit bowl, $2.

When Kris Mae and I were filming the Buick story, I immediately spotted it on a shelf at the Goodwill. It has such 1960s Kartell vibes, and upon further investigation I discovered it’s actually a trophy ice bucket from Target…go figure! I’m still mad about it, though.

12. Free vintage chair…

13. And, another free vintage chair.

I didn’t take either of these, but I really enjoy the ritual of photographing the discarded as a way of honoring their duty. I hope someone else grabbed them…such beauties.

14. Vintage wooden recipe box, FREE.

I got so many sweet messages about this cutie when I posted about it on my IG Stories…I love how Little House On the Prairie it is w/carvings, etc. Whenever I find things like these that just feel very personal and like they came from a legacy of homes, I take a lot of care to figure out the best place they might live next. I’m not much of a recipe collector but I imagine it could be quite charming for a pad and pen where my future landline phone might sit (anyone wanna swap phone #s??).

15. Vintage Victorian-era cotton slip, FREE.

Hallie had this on her table at our yard sale a few weeks ago, and as soon as she put it out, I thought, “that looks like Prada.” I waited. And waited. And then it was still on her table when we were ready to pack up, so I grabbed it. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do with it, but it’s such a divine shade of pale pink…DREAMY.

16. Wood shipping pallet, FREE.

Do you see a face? I see a face.

I hate seeing good wood things get shit-canned like this. It honestly breaks my heart. Usually shipping pallets like these are in desperate shape and hard to justify keeping, but this one had such interesting details, particularly the four cubbies at the corners that I instantly imagined putting little pieces of pottery inside for display (after I paint the whole thing, of course!). It ended up being too heavy for me to bring home, but I still like to fantasize about what I would have done with it (which is almost just as satisfying).

17. Woven-topped wood bench, FREE.

Another piece I didn’t take, but felt the need to document just the same. Perfect for a few extra perches outside an always-busy cafe.

18. Sigrid Calon Abstract Risograph 10 print “Notebook,” $325.

I managed to score this at a Public Sale auction in late May along with another framed piece by the same artist. I wasn’t familiar with Calon’s work, but after I posted about it, she messaged me from the Netherlands that she’d never seen her work come up for auction before. I sent her photos and told her I would be a very proud steward of her art…which also got me DEEP into reading/learning about Risograph printing. I took a look and couldn’t find any good proper vintage risographs I liked, but below left and right are two original serigraphs in a similar style that are quite cool.

19. Vintage women’s carpentry book, $5.

I met a friend over the summer who had not-so-recently left a job of nearly two decades (not her choice), and she was trying to figure out what her next chapter was going to be about — and discover more of what she loved. When I asked her what she was enjoying doing, she said, “fixing furniture.” So, when I found this book at a local second-hand book shop in Hudson, I knew who I was giving it to.

20/21/22. From the late artist Ann Wilson’s estate sale—vtg woven textile, ceramic vase, vtg ceramic caddie w/old colored pencils, $20.

Our friend, the artist Anne Schaefer, dropped a note in our group chat that the late artist Ann Wilson’s estate sale would be happening over a weekend up near where we live. My friend Christine Cherbonnier and I hopped in her car and spent a few hours gently moving through Wilson’s home and choosing some special things from her space/life/work with a lot of care. The above are my favorite things that I bought that belonged to her…a large ceramic vase, the speckled caddie that includes colored pencils that were in her sunny art studio, as well as a woven textile in still very bright shades of pink/violet/gold (Wilson’s most known piece is a quilt painting now in the Whitney Museum’s permanent collection). Wilson died in 2023, so it felt strange walking through her former home, all her things seemingly exactly where she left them. Raffi and I have been using her pencils, and even though I’m not sure yet where the vase will go, I plan to do something special with it. For Ann and her memory…and also for us. ❤️

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Thanks for following along, and if you have anything marvelous that you’ve thrifted this summer that you’d like to share, pls do drop it in the comments or our chat ↓. And, remember, if you click on or buy anything throughout today’s newsletter, we might earn a tiny commission at no cost to you. 🌹

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As promised—Right here/right now, I’m selling 18 things I saved for you from last Saturday’s IRL yard sale.

Rules of the game are the same—First person to comment below gets the THING. Prices are i…

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Good morning everyone. I was not expecting how strange, complicated, and utterly EMO I would feel about preparing today’s story, having fallen in love with a place + a temporary home I was really never supposed to fall in love with. It came with icky industrial carpeting, dropped ceilings, wood paneling, and some extremely haunted ruffled curtains…but you know, somehow I knew.

She knew, too.

I’m sure a lot of you can relate, though, getting attached to an imperfect environment and then having all these freaky feelings when it comes time for that phase of home to turn into something new. In just a few weeks we start the demo/excavation phase of cleaning out the interior history of this beautiful and now much beloved 1960s brick building we bought six years ago and have been living in while we’ve prepared for this moment.

We’ve got SO MANY snapshots, plus Kevin filmed me doing a video tour down below (both horrifying and a treat!) that is likely too long, but I really wanted to give you a personal tour, given so many of you have been on this journey with us for the past bunch of years. Before we get into all of it, a few bits of FUN housekeeping to start us off…

Last Saturday’s upstate Yard Sale was a HIT + don’t miss our Tiny Yard Sale right here this Friday!

All sold! (Minus third-grader.)

I hosted a yard sale last Saturday morning with my friend Hallie to do a final clean-out before demo begins. Thank you to everyone who stopped by or DM’d about info. Hallie and I set up in the driveway next to our wildflower meadow at 8 a.m., and for the following four hours we greeted neighbors, sipped Raffi’s lemonade w/friends, and haggled our hearts out. We made lots of space in the basement, where most of our things will be stored once demo on the doctor’s office commences. Also: I pulled about 15 things from the sale just for our Paid subscribers that will be up for grabs tomorrow (Friday) at NOON EST (making it nice for our West Coast peeps, too), all at real down-and-dirty yard sale prices (including the embroidered vintage pillowcase set ⬇️ I snagged from Hallie’s table). Reminder: These personally curated sales of the vintage/things I collect are one of the best perks of being a paying member of our ATA family here, so if you’re down for this type of recurring inspiration—along with special features like today’s—pls do join us ♥️.

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PS: I was thinking, if you all have fun things to purge/sell/make space for, it could be fun for us to host an ATA Community Yard Sale in our members chat thread…sort of our own scrappy/cool marketplace. If you’re interested, message us/comment below, and Erin and I will sort out the details!

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We met a cat.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but someone in our ATA community DM’d me about a foster cat. At first, I wasn’t ready, but I’m not sure anyone ever is after their mini soulmate of 16 years passes on. I miss Phoebe more than I can possibly explain (still losing my shit occasionally, to be expected), so the call about this cat seemed like something to pay attention to. I met her, then I brought Kevin and Raffi to meet her, too. Adopting a new animal after losing one that was an enormous part of your family + ♥️ is a whole new experience for me, so I’m just following life’s breadcrumbs and hoping for the best outcome for everyone. More soon.

After visiting Animal Kind, we had an early supper at Hudson Diner, a classic spot that is PERFECT in every way.

This tiny DIY shirt hack.

You know I’m not crafty, but while I was gutting drawers for the yard sale last week, I came across this Very Good Calvin Klein shirt Kevin wore to a black-tie wedding a few years ago. The collar had an ink stain, so instead of ditching it (the quality was too beautiful/the rest of it was still optic white), I cut the collar off, just to see. After a wash, the bare edge got this nice distressed effect reminiscent of a Comme des Garçons/Jil Sander top, and I haven’t been able to take it off. A nifty move for any marvelous shirt where the collar never really hit.

**The Pique nutritional packs always in my bag.

One last shout-out for Pique—I’ve been sooo in love with this beautiful brand’s nutritional blends/elixirs—so good for ++energy, hydration, and sustained concentration when I’m writing late into the afternoons. You already know how smitten I am w/Nandaka, their yummy chocolate mushroom “coffee,” but I’ve also been using their X·E Fountain Energizing Electrolytes as well as their Sun Goddess Matcha packets. The X·E is equally handy later in the day for steady energy sans crash (its skin-brightening properties are a bonus☀️:). Both come in the handiest on-the-go single packs to use when I’m working, thrifting, or just navigating a manic day. Reminder: This week is the last to lock in Pique’s up to 20% off for ATA readers + some free gifts; just use this link, I promise it’s WONDERFUL. #piquepartner

Okay, friends…let’s get into it 🌻.

The last month has been a sort of fever dream trying to document as much of our beloved doctor’s office as we can before the demo team comes in to gut the space for renovation…aka, its next life.

In truth, I think this has been a way for me to stall my mourning as I say goodbye to this phase of this strange brick building from 1964 in a town we’d never lived before but that somehow called to us just the same. Not saying goodbye entirely, but letting go of the way we found it…and building from there.

None of this house/structure ever made sense. But in the same way I knew our tiny Brooklyn apartment was our home (despite not getting it the first time we saw it) and that Phoebe was absolutely our cat (after I attempted to adopt another cat instead), I felt the same kind of fate about this place, too.

That we had/have something important to do together.

Sharing the insides of this building—not just the original architecture and personal history of the space, but also how my family and I have made it our home over the past six years—has been a little like showing the world my underwear drawer. Exposing myself and also my personal chaos thrifting museum in a way that I’m not really sure I want to share, maybe for fear it won’t be appreciated or loved the way that I love it. And yet, everyone who has stepped inside or stayed with us at our funny little getaway has been as enchanted as we are.

Because like so many of the things I cherish most in my life, this building has revealed something to me that’s hard to see from the outside. Like the discarded things I find on the sidewalk or in a thrift store, it’s always like I'm tuning in to a special frequency + listening to what something a little bit freaky is trying to tell me.

The Dr.’s Inn (what we named it) and I speak that same freaky language.

What it was + a little like what it might become (courtesy of Dwell).

I never went about “decorating” this historically commercial space. Knowing it was going to be a transition home, its only requirement was to be safe and cozy for our family while we made plans for the mowed lawn next door (you know how that turned out:).

I know so many of you have lived in temporary spaces and experienced their challenges, too, be they sublets, half-finished buildouts, or a home being prepped and sold for a declining relative. And yet, despite the quirkiness or REAL obstacles these not-quite-a-home spaces present, they also—inevitably—bring us gifts, too.

Where we started.

The day we got the keys. Raffi was not even two yet. This October she turns 8.

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Hi everyone…so excited to dive into my afternoon + conversation with Talia Mayden, the most excellent/inspiring design writer + author of the best-selling newsletter There Y0u Are, but first a few tiny treats to give you a LIFT before we get into it. 🥰

1. The bathroom inside the De Gournay showroom on 59th Street.

I was shooting an upcoming story this morning about my perfect NYC architecture tour, and coming off the Roosevelt Island tram (also such a treat!) I was so surprised to see the De Gournay showroom, makers of mesmerizing hand-painted wallpaper and textiles, literally right under the tram entrance on 59th Street. We buzzed, and the incredibly kind team let us in for a quick peek around; inside felt like stumbling upon a tiny Art Deco hotel tucked away somewhere in Brussels. I immediately fantasized they might open a teeny coffee shop just so I could hang out for a spell staring at the heavenly wall coverings. If you find yourself nearby + have a chance to pop in, be sure not to miss the bathroom ⬆…the stuff of dreams.

One of the sitting rooms at De Gournay, a tray of Murano glass cigarettes not for sale (I did find this and these tho:), and the DG team perusing ATA (ie: making sure I wasn’t a lunatic).

Just some roses I spotted for you.

2. This Donny rug by Beni with a single lightning bolt.

I’m starting to assemble a future shopping list for the Dr.’s Inn reno, and this rug really takes the cake. Mixed with some warm woods and other printed (vintage) textiles, it’s a showstopper…the price is right, too.

3. When one view closes, another opens.

Homeward

You're not a New Yorker until the developers come knocking

Today, I’m bringing you a mezze spread of renovation and real estate snippets, before a main course essay by my friend and fellow substacker, Christene Barberich. (When not writing, Christene moonlights as an advisor; her latest project is a rebrand of John McDonald’s…

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25 days ago · 54 likes · Amanda Hesser and Christene Barberich

I mentioned last week that I was writing something about our tiny-yet-magical view in Brooklyn being bricked over by a new apartment building. I spent two days writing it from our dining table, and thank you to Amanda Hesser and her editor Alex Redgrave for hosting it on Homeward last Friday. It wasn’t planned, but the story turned into this cherished reminder that when something goes, there’s always something new to be discovered…even if it hurts for a bit.

4. The perfect white jeans.

I told you I’d report back from what I bought at the recent Soeur sale, and while both the trench coat and blazer ended up being too big, the Eliott jeans KILLED. They’re comfortable, but with really beautiful structure that gives them trouser energy. A++.

5. I wrote today’s newsletter listening to this song on a loop. The ZONE.

Last little thing: I’ve been shooting the existing interior of our Dr.’s Inn like a mad person.

In preparation for demo starting in two weeks (yup, all this shit is going into storage OR our yard sale next Saturday the 15th, message me if you want to come 😬!!). We’ll be kicking off our reno journey right here next week—including a video tour, mood board, probably some tears, and a few suspicions about what might be living in the attic 👻. Reminder: **Dr.’s Inn reno content will be available exclusively for paid A Tiny Apartment subscribers…join us because it just won’t be the same w/out YOU. 🌹

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I first read about Talia Mayden when one of the stories in her wonderful newsletter There Y0u Are landed in my feed. Once I started reading/watching/clicking, I just couldn’t stop. She has that special, very rare quality of being not only someone who possesses a lot of knowledge about the outskirts + recesses of design (ie: the GOOD stuff), but it’s palpable how much she deeply loves it, too. Her approach to space, collecting, and arranging is so intuitive and joyful, it’s no wonder The New York Times chose her to spearhead a new column called Ask A Design Obsessive.

And of course when I found out she lives just a few blocks away from me, I had to cold message her to see if she would be game to come thrifting with me at my home-away-from-home Vintage Thrift. To shop, YES. But also so we could observe how she navigates antiques + second-hand spaces, what textures/colors she gravitates to, and how she ultimately chooses what ends up in her cart (“I wanna see double digits only!” she told me w/regard to price tags…noted!).

I learned so much from Talia—about new things to hunt for as well as design moves I hadn’t thought of before. I hope you love our afternoon adventure as much as I did. Let’s get into it…xxCb

ATA: Hi Talia! Tell us a little about your life + career trajectory. Where are you from and what are some notable things that have shaped your path the most?
Talia Mayden: “I’m from Nashville, and growing up there, I always felt a little out of place. I dipped my toe into what feels like every art form: songwriting, art school (where I focused on documentary photography), studying Nordic Minimalism in Copenhagen, and eventually moving out to L.A. to work as a video director and editor. All the while, I was obsessing over the many, many apartments of my early-to-mid 20s. I never called myself an interior designer (and still don’t), but once I started posting about my own apartment online, I built a client list for one-on-one consults.”

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Those of us who have been here—in the newsletter world, not just on Substack—for a very (veryyyyy) long time always have a similar feeling when this question comes up. It usually splits off in two ways:

1. Run for the hills.

2. Just start writing.

I started making newsletters in 2005, before we even knew what the internet was or how it would eventually shape our lives, our work, our opinions/desires/habits…and YES, our writing. Maybe “writing” is too limiting a word—how we MAKE things. And while so much has changed over the 20 years I’ve been using a CMS and pressing SEND, a lot hasn’t. People still crave and bond with a lot of the same stuff: community and connections, (fact-based) information, smart (people-made) ideas that help them to see their lives and curiosities in new ways, and, perhaps most importantly, empathy. The ability to feel something real in an ever-more unfeeling soup of society. Lately, AI has its sticky little fingers in everything we read/like/create, so it’s more important than ever that we get closer to what makes US feel really alive and of use in the world—and HOW we want to express it.

And, that goes for what lands in our in-boxes, too.

The wall above my desk upstate where I write this newsletter…often!

A newsletter can be many things: a resource, digest, diary, scrapbook, criticism, hybrid model, etc. That’s the beauty (and the curse) of “starting” a newsletter in August 2026. You can do anything you want—ANYTHING—but that doesn’t necessarily mean that anyone is going to read it (especially with how saturated the newsletter universe has become). On the one hand, it’s an incredible new age for the creator economy and a way to fund (or partially fund❤️) a life as a working writer. On the other hand, so many newsletters can make it very hard to discern what is worth paying $80/year for and what is not (at least not for you).

That point in itself is a big reason why I’ve spent the last few months collecting quotes/wisdom about this. How much of wanting and making a newsletter is for YOU, and how much is for the people you want to reach? In my two decades of making these for other people, that inflection point is where the magic and the chaos of making it happens.

“Conventionality is deadness.”
—Lady Ottoline Morrell of the Bloomsbury Group wrote in her journal in the 1920s.

She knew.

For me, making a newsletter every week is like putting together/upgrading a room or just building some fresh seasonal outfits—I need to get everything out of the cabinets and bins to see what materials and moods I’m working with. And, for a little while, shit is a total mess. ↓

Today’s newsletter in progress. AKA: My version of creative chaos.

Sometimes I know right away the topic of a newsletter I want to make, but when I start writing, something pulls me in a new direction. I never ignore this. I trust the process and know that even if I get sidetracked from my original idea, I’m still discovering something interesting and instinctual. In the early days of Refinery29 (my former company), this process was the absolute JOY and terror of my life. Coming up with a new idea every week in 2005 when we didn’t have nearly as much data and insights as we do now. But you know, that ended up being a REALLY GOOD THING, too…the GOLD of it all. Steering the ship from what we wanted to make, not necessarily what we knew everyone would want to read.

I still listen to those impulses, an idea tugging at me to pay attention, “me me me!” But I also check in regularly with insights, to see which of my newsletters “landed” and which less so: Comments, Likes, DMs, reposts/shares, also, and this is a big one…reads/likes/shares over time. That seems to be a hallmark of A Tiny Apartment readers…saving the newsletter for a time when you know you won’t be interrupted (many of you tell me this, and I love hearing it).

Having learned this about you, I don’t freak out if a newsletter runs a bit long. I try to keep things succinct and do a good job of packaging the best stuff in the right way so you can see it and use it easily. To that point, here are just a few of the things I’ve learned over 20 years of making newsletters…GREAT ones especially.

1. Create your own guardrails, but keep them “loose.” By this I mean, give yourself/your readers a structure to work within because some restrictions, especially in the beginning, will A) help you focus on what you really love learning about and sharing, and B) will clearly convey what your newsletter is about to potential readers/supporters. And when I say keep them “loose,” I mean go out of bounds when the spirit moves you to. Experiment in your own creative space; just try to bring it back to the main idea or reason you wanted to start your newsletter in the first place.

2. Settle on a pace that works for YOU. When I made the commitment to start ATA in 2022, I had collected some advice from kindly Substack people who recommended I send a newsletter twice a week to start. When I ran this by my friend who has a wildly successful newsletter (she has since moved off the platform), she practically screamed at me, “Christene! You CANNOT do that! It will kill you creatively!” She wasn’t wrong. I know my capacity to create and make really good CB-specific stuff, and twice a week was just too rigorous a publishing schedule. In fact, ATA at its heart was and IS always about efficiency + drilling things down to their best/most loved. And 1x/week was just right for that (+ me!).

3. Bypass perfection. A lot of writers and creators can get really stuck on making something “perfect.” The truth is…there is no perfect. The pursuit of perfection is basically the enemy, particularly when you’re trying to make something that doesn’t feel so polished that it locks everyone else out. It’s great to check facts and smooth out your first shitty draft a few good times, but know when to let go. When to add that final period. When to save and send. Pay attention to when the making-magic is real and when it’s getting steamrolled by trying to be something that it’s not. (Below, a blurb that really got me from an article that ran in The New Yorker this time last year on the “Pain of perfectionism.”)

   

4. Make an editorial calendar. Your calendar is your body of work in motion (and mocking one is a great exercise if you’re thinking of starting a newsletter). Even if it’s just for you, a calendar is a place to capture ideas in their infancy, plan ahead for seasonal things you/your audience might need/want, and, if you have a mgr like I do, make it easier to see/know if there is potential for a collaborator or brand opportunity. Perhaps the BEST part of having an editorial calendar is paying attention to how you actually feel in your body when you look at the ideas there. Sometimes I will keep pushing a story back, and then I realize that I just feel afraid to write it or research it. Eventually I do, or I just delete it from the schedule. Noodle with your calendar the way you would your own diary/journal. It will tell you a lot about what your newsletter is becoming, especially in the early stages.

5. Pay attention to stats, but don’t live by them. Substack provides very basic data insights. Occasionally, I want to go deeper into how/what people are engaging with in my newsletter, but this can be dangerous territory. It’s important to want to make a newsletter that other people want, but it’s also important to make a newsletter that YOU want. The two need to go together; otherwise, it’s nearly impossible to sustain the energy, time, and commitment it takes to really get a successful newsletter in the year 2026 off the ground. One that SINGS because your heart is really IN IT.

6. Do other things. As much as you can. Making a weekly newsletter takes so much more time and experience than just the hours it takes writing/building it. 50% of making a newsletter is being out in the world talking to people, seeing art, walking, reading, sleeping, sitting on park benches, taking the garbage out, showing up for people you love. Most of our best ideas come when we are not making. When we are living. So live your life. Do amazing things and do boring things, too. Both kinds make a newsletter that’s truly addictive to read.

7. “What is weird about you is what you should be doing more of.” Claire-Louise Bennett said this, and I’m so glad she did. It reminded me why any of us should feel compelled to make something…because when we make from this true source place, it is almost always GREAT.

Okay! before we get into today’s story, which features SO much good advice from all my favorite newsletter makers/writers/teachers/readers, a few tiny bits to kick us off:

SOEUR is having a sale. And, I bought a few things 😬.

I only own one SOEUR thing, but when I saw my friend Irene (who is one of the people I asked to contribute to today’s newsletter :) of In Moda Veritas wearing these poplin pants, I knew they would be worth the $$. Of course, I couldn’t stop there and noticed they were having an end-of-summer sale, so I took a quick peruse and settled on four perfect things (I mean, I hope they’ll be perfect). My sale selects, from top left: Oversized trench, Hermosa checked blazer, loose trousers, silk shirt-dress (going to wear this over pants this fall).

**My Favorite Writing Partner—Pique Nandaka Coffee Alt.

There was SO much brilliant, insightful info to pull together and organize for today’s ATA, and I will tell you my daily Nandaka routine really kept my head in the game. It’s been a month since I’ve been drinking this (w/a touch of honey:) in the afternoons in lieu of a coffee, and I can say with full confidence I am INTO it. As a devoted coffee lover (give me ALL the coffees), I’ve been completely won over by how beautifully Nandaka is crafted. Calling it a mushroom coffee doesn’t do it justice—every cup combines 100% fruiting-body mushrooms as well as ceremonial pre-Inca cacao, and wild Pu’er tea for a rich ritual that delivers smooth, steady energy without the crash. Best part: ATA readers get 20% off for life + some free gifts using my link: piquelife.com/christenenandaka. #piquepartner #nandaka

PS: The vintage Italian coffee cups I thrifted this past weekend for $5 that I wouldn’t mind using for my mini daily Nandaka break. (This vtg set of 6/$15 is LOVELY + would be great for cocktails, too.)

$5!

Now, on to some greatness w/today’s newsletter wisdom + advice…Let’s get into It. xxCb

1. Kel Rakowski, Popular — “Teach me something new.”

I recently discovered Kel’s newsletter Popular and have been devouring every edition, which has a real focus on not only prioritizing our creative pursuits but also how we build a creative practice and cultivate our own tastes (a big theme for today’s edition). Also, in a previous post she recommended Brenda Ueland’s book from 1938 If You Want To Write—a Book About Art, Independence, and Spirit, which I bought and have been making notes all over.

Kel’s GREAT: “What I spend real time pouring over are newsletters that teach me something new—essentially solving a problem or helping me think deeper on something I’m already noodling on. I’m into alternative education right now—the reality is we’re all mostly teaching ourselves everything online: how to interview, how to write, how to land a brand deal. That’s how you start a creative business: sharing and learning from people a year or two or ten ahead of where you are.”

What Kel reads:
Anna Mack’s Stack by Anna Mackenzie: “She writes about building a portfolio career life. I met Anna a few years ago here on Substack; we’re both former startup founders and bonded over that. She was already well on her way, establishing herself as a leader in this niche—since then she’s completely taken off, and I’m a repeat customer. I’ve worked with her 1:1, bought her OS system to help run Popular, and recommend her to my own clients and friends nearly every week.”
Nemesis by Emily Segal and Martti Kalliala: “If you’re a working creative, everything Nemesis does sits at the forefront of cultural (art, design, tech, internet) commentary—they understand trends, strategy, and taste in a way I genuinely trust (I’ve taken a few of their Strategy and Writing workshops). Emily is a force: She’s the strategist version of Chloé Sevigny.”

2. Irene Kim, In Moda Veritas — “What value does this bring to my life?”

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Good morning everyone. If you are on the East Coast, I hope you did okay with the devastating downpours yesterday. I was driving back upstate from Brooklyn with a friend and the roads were apocalyptic.

I was crushed to hear of Glen Hansard’s sudden passing on Wednesday. I was sitting outside at the picnic table with Raffi when Kevin came out and told me. We hugged and cried. Once was one of the first relationship-defining films in our life together, and I watch this scene to this day ↓ every few months, particularly during times when I need to physically plug back into life. The way the producer wakes up from his stupid newspaper when he realizes what is actually happening in his studio in that moment…I will never get over it. It really is one of the most awesome cinematic clips of our time, my own life, and anyone else who’s ever yearned so much to do something that felt impossible. Sending all the love to Ireland and his family…Glen, you were such a gift in this world, and we will cherish every bit of what you gave us. ❤️

A few more quick bits before we jump into today’s (hallowed:) tour…

1. A room w/a vanishing view.

I was in Brooklyn earlier this week writing/working on some projects while I’ve been (forlornly) watching as our tiny view of the East River vanishes behind a new brick building going up around the corner. Our little view was one of the reasons I fell in love w/our apartment at first sight…just seeing the ferries chug by always gave me a tiny hit of glee.

Above, the view from our Brooklyn dining table…I assure you, I took 100,000 little videos like this of all the boats that went by in the days leading up to the new building concealing them.

That said, a little to the left of what we’re losing we do still have a clear shot of our Fair Lady between the trees. I’ve been meditating on + writing about this transition…something changing outside that’s inevitably changing how I feel inside. Somehow, it’s made me love/treasure our little home and what’s left of our view even more (will share more when what I’ve written is ready for you:).

2. How about this mini British beach cottage?

Erin sent me a link to this marvelous jewel of a cabane belonging to Amy Bannerman of eBay (and founder of slow fashion brand Francine), originally published in Domino. So many ideas, inspiration, and JOY tucked into this beach “hut,” particularly all the patterns/stripes, which were a collaboration between Bannerman and Colours of Arley. More shots below (photography by Louisa Tratalos), as well as a few things I fell in love with over at the Colours of Arley site (thinking we must buy that shower curtain for the upcoming Dr.’s Inn reno?).

From top left: Amy Bannerman’s UK beach cottage and her view; shower curtain and striped bolster, both by Colours of Arley.

3. My new Alex Mill work tote is a total Everything Bag.

Not too big/not too small, somehow exactly right for laptop/train commuting/Barbie + art supply hauling. This one does it all. I got mine monogrammed in honor of Yoko Ono and the only tattoo I have (so far). (Affiliate, yes ❤️:).

4. Making music + magic sans watchful eyes in 1979.

Kevin and I started rewatching The Americans. We were totally hooked the first time we watched it, and for some reason, he really wanted to go back to it again. I had absolutely no recollection of the pilot episode (to be fair, this is not surprising for me 😐), but this second time around left me breathless start to finish. The part that really got me, though (ie: jumping up off the couch and whooping at the end 🤯), was the final absolutely sublime closing scene featuring the 1979 song “Tusk” by Fleetwood Mac (the track opens up the episode, too).

Briefly: I was 10 when this song came out, and although it was pre-MTV days, the band put out a home movie-style video for the song, filmed in an empty Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, famously accompanied by 112 members of the renowned USC Trojan Marching Band (Mick Fleetwood had contacted their musical director to layer a mighty percussion section into the song and he remains a GENIUS). From Wikipedia…

The idea of employing the services of a marching band on “Tusk” came to Fleetwood after he was awakened by a local brass band playing outside during a vacation in Barfleur.

“I saw the entire village dancing in the streets. They were following the band...I grabbed the remainder of my bottle of Beaujolais from the night before and went down to join in...That joyous, irresistible cacophony is what I heard when I listened to that loop of the riff.”

The whole video is wild: Christine McVie cruising around with a glass of white wine in hand, Stevie Nicks twirling a baton, Fleetwood carrying around a cardboard cut-out of John McVie who couldn’t make the recording. When I say I have watched this video about 12 times since rewatching the pilot of The Americans, I am not exaggerating. IDK why, but it’s just so energizing being reminded of all the freedom, looseness, and LIVING sans any slick/polished production/effects, etc., simply capturing this moment in time exactly as it was, not as anyone planned it to be. PS: VOLUME ⬆️. PPS: Here’s that closing scene in The Americans, dear Lord, Matthew Rhys 🔫🔥😭.

And now—on w/today’s feature…xxCb

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I began writing this story during the winter when I visited my friend Gwen Whiting, founder of The Fill Club, at her tiny storybook office at the National Arts Club. She didn’t know it then, but this particular address on Gramercy Park was one of my first true fantasies of NYC. When I was in my 20s, I would often take the subway to parts of the city I really didn’t know well, and Irving Place + Gramercy Park were always a favorite. And (many) years later, when Carrie Bradshaw decamped from her Upper East Side apartment to live and write in one of my other favorite buildings on the park ⬇️, I still fantasized about writing one day a few doors down at the NAC.

Founded in 1898, the National Arts Club was one of the first clubs of its kind to foster awareness and education in the arts while also admitting women for memberships (unheard of at the time). Yeats used to sleep, read, and speak here. Cecilia Beaux and Will Barnet made art here. The Club’s longtime president O. Aldon James “hoarded” antiques (and birds!) here. The cast of Marty Supreme had their after-party here, too.

Most importantly, working artists still make art and live here.

And now, my dear friend Gwen has a wonderful slip of an office here, too. As someone who literally spends entire subway rides dreaming of my own little writing studio at the NAC someday, there’s nothing quite like dropping in to see Gwen, having lunch w/her in the members’ dining room, and soaking up all the lush rosy carpeting, stained glass, carved mahogany details, portraits, and mythical old-world beauty.

When I asked Gwen if I could document/share more of my visits with you, she was delighted to invite us into her little slice of New York history. Let’s get into it…

ATA: Hi Gwen…I am not going to lie, I do fantasize about sharing your office w/you! Tell us a little about you and how you ended up here.
Gwen: I studied Apparel Design and Fiber Science at Cornell and I started my career in fashion at Ralph Lauren, but really found my calling in RL’s Home Design. In 2004, I poured all my experience and knowledge w/clothing and home care into launching The Laundress, ultimately creating a new category that hadn’t existed before. I built it at a time when I first began investing in clothes and wanted/needed my pieces to last because basic Tide and dry cleaning wasn’t going to work. (As a result I have so many things I still love and wear from 25 years ago!) After 17 years of helping to shape this part of the industry, I sold the Laundress to Unilever in 2019.

To be honest, I initially had no plans to step back into the laundry room, yet when my brand was completely decimated and had no resemblance to what I built (and I was running out of my old detergent), I felt compelled to go back. Too many people relied on the care products I’d created—I mean, stains still happen every day!

Two years ago, I launched The Fill Club***, a wellness-centered cleaning brand powered by aromatherapy available only on our website to our TFC members community. This time around, I’m more focused on creating a beautiful, intimate space for cleaning, care, and connecting. Last fall I started our newsletter here, too, called The Laundry List.

***For only the next 48 hours, The Fill Club is offering ATA subscribers a complimentary annual membership ($40 value). Just visit the sign-up page, add the membership to your cart, and enter the code TINYAPT40 at checkout to redeem access and shop the catalog—and enjoy perks—immediately.

ATA: How long have you had an office at the National Arts Club?
Gwen: I’ve been a member since 2008—18 years, doing the math is crazy! It’s really been such a special part of my life…celebrations, events, learning, friends, and even my own wedding ten years ago.

I received a members’ email about two different offices that were available to rent in the summer of 2023 and inquired. Like most of us who are going through endings of really significant life chapters, I really struggled in my transition after exiting The Laundress, ie: not having a structure or place to go and work every day. I’ve always worked in a creative space, so it was an exciting opportunity when my little office became available. And shortly after moving in I decided to start The Fill Club.

One of the shared sitting areas in the National Arts Club, housed in what was originally the Samuel J. Tilden House, built in 1845 and given its Victorian Gothic facade/redesign by Calvert Vaux in 1874.

ATA: What do you know about the history of your office/who had it before you?
Gwen: It could have been an artist studio because the light is good, as opposed to the larger spaces down the hall. What is funny is that I had never been upstairs past the main gallery floor in all those years before! I knew my dear friend had taken sketching classes there for years, but that was it. My neighbors are the Pastel Society and Drawing New York. Every time I pass a class in session, I wonder why I’m not in it! Instead, I head to my computer or a Zoom…or my laundry list of tasks.

The Newswomen’s Club of New York is another neighbor, but I have only seen their door open once—just recently—and had major wood-paneling envy.

Gwen’s door knocker deity that mesmerizes me. (Also, door knockers are very under-rated.)

ATA: One of the reasons I wanted to do this story is that your office is tiny but still so expansive and bright. Were you ever worried it was too small, or do you think it’s perfect?
Gwen: Yes, it is perfect indeed. I am actually more used to smaller spaces. One of my long-term vendors from The Laundress literally reflected with me last week about the hours we spent together in the closet at our office. We had an open office for the majority of our business years, and our only private space was a storage closet, to which I added an IKEA bistro table and folding chairs inside for sensitive discussion times.

Details from Gwen’s office as well as the sign to the Newswomen’s Club of New York next door.

Initially I had my desk in the front window until it got moved for an interview, and I never moved it back. Now the good views of the Park outside are more visible, not hidden behind my double monitors. Sadly, my intended work table couldn’t fit through the doorframe, so this simpler one was my second choice.

ATA: How does the space make you feel?
Gwen: It’s funny, I deliberately didn’t want to make this another decorating project. I just moved my office stuff in from Bridgehampton—an old unused IKEA sisal rug, a lamp, my filing cabinet. I already had everything, except I bought a desk chair from IKEA that I still should probably replace with something more ergonomic.

I really just moved in and got right to work. I didn’t want to get distracted in the space; I just stayed focused. It wasn’t until you actually came to have lunch w/me here—at least a year later—that you stayed and added your stylist touch to it, which I am so grateful for and which makes me happy to this day. [You’re welcome, Gwen, I adore you!].

An “ordinary” conference room down the hall from Gwen’s office.

ATA: Any other details you love most about being in this historic building? What are your favorite things to see and do here every day?
Gwen: Aside from loving to have a place to go to focus, I love seeing and appreciating a different aspect of the club—how dedicated the team here is. The joy of the creative classes buzzing around me, the artwork, especially all the feminine energy surrounded by portraits of all the incredible ladies on the walls. Even though there are days I spend alone, it is also nice to feel part of a creative community.

It’s also handy to have lunch, tea, coffee, cocktails, and dinner just downstairs too! People love coming to the club, so it is always easy to lure people here for a meeting or to have a meal with someone. I was so grateful when you came to visit, too, as you made me explore more floors I still hadn’t seen before, and meet more interesting people here along the way.

**If you click on or buy anything throughout today’s newsletter, we may earn a tiny commission, at no cost to you. For more home and style inspiration/GOOD THINGS, head over to our Tiny Shop on ShopMy. ❤️

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1—Our latest ATA Summer Playlist (#18!!) is here.

First song by BEA1991 has been a crowd-pleaser on repeat lately; the rest of our A Tiny Apartment playlists are right here, too 🧃.

2—I already bought this 2027 Daily Planner.

It’s by Aura Estelle and made in Japan. I like that it has vintage Hermès vibes with a fancy Staples price tag. It also offers blank space for using your planner more as a place to collect ephemera, do some collaging, or add sketches, stickers, etc., ie: scrapbook/journal/everyday dreaming nirvana.

3—These Gap Factory pants are secretly killer.

An ATA reader messaged me after our Anti-Shorts Summer Pants story went out last week that these Gap Factory pants were an unlikely standout. For $27.99, I ordered a pair in khaki and black and got both in the Long version (as a 5’9”er, I always appreciate this option). Will report back if they’re as good as she said they are.

4—My friend Aya has been documenting our Doctor’s Office in art all week…

We start renovating our Dr.’s Inn next month**, and I had no idea how emo I would be about saying goodbye to the original wood-paneled insides of this 1964 building we’ve been living in for the past six years. My friend Aya has had a soft spot for this place exactly as it is since we bought it, so she’s been staying with us all week and drawing/painting/preserving it for us from different angles/vantage points. I cannot tell you how much this gesture has moved me…and how much I realized I needed these handmade images to take into the next chapter with us. Let this be a reminder to document the different phases of your home, even the strange/ick/awkward ones…you might actually miss them when they’re gone.

Above left, the doctor’s office (ie: Dr.’s Inn ☕️) when we first bought it in 2020; right, what we turned the waiting room into so we could actually live in it while we built the cabin.

5—Congrats to Beth, the winner of last week’s Donni pants giveaway.

So excited for these cute pants to join your closet, Beth (DM incoming!). And now, on w/the show…❤️

A few months ago, I started looking for an essay I wrote in 2017 that was called “When the House You Loved Never Loved You Back.” It was a submission to The New York Times’ “Modern Love” column that prompted the most immediate and seemingly decisive rejection from the editor, who shared, “…this is a little too on the edge of what we do here.”

The first home I made with my family.

At the time, that reply stung. I had spent a month writing about something I’d been avoiding my whole life, even spending a week at an historical writer’s residency working on it, laboring over adjectives and feelings and memories…making it “perfect.” (It never was.) And, then reading it aloud in front of a small crowd of board members and my fellow residency roomies. When the essay was turned away, I might have felt the tiniest bit of relief. Not to share what I’d written, and how much it hurt to even say those words out loud to people I barely knew. I never wanted to hurt anyone by sharing those memories, and the fact that that essay seems to have vanished suspiciously between the cracks of my various lives is telling.

Writing about home is both easy and hard. It is the thing we know best. It is also the thing that knows US best…our secrets, our stories, our dreams to one day leave. For better or worse.

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Also, some fun ATA reader news: Stefanie was chosen as the winner of our Helix mattress giveaway (her response when I wrote to her that she’d won WARMED my heart:). And Raffi chose reader Meg as the winner of our plaid Zara dress. Congrats, Meg!

ATA reader/illustrator Sophie wrote from Glasgow that she was so inspired by this image of Joshua Hale’s tiny cottage in the Cotswolds that I shared last month—“it started fizzing in my head,” she said—she went to work on her garden container where she grows pumpkin and purple peas. “It seemed like the perfect canvas for a few king snakes of my own.” Sophie! We are besotted.🐍

AND!! In the spirit of today’s missive, I’m giving away the below pair of gently worn Donni Pop Stripe Pants, a great example of a lightweight, crispy cotton bottom for someone who loathes shorts like I do. Totally perfect for beach + bedtime alike. Size medium/6-8ish. Any takers, drop a comment and we’ll choose one of you at random. (NOTE: ATA giveaways are a perk for Paid subscribers who make all the magic here possible, and for which I’m eternally grateful.)

Last bit before today’s story: Doen is having a warehouse sale…woowoo!! I’m considering this Gilded Age-vibey top and wearing it over a thin wool crewneck come fall. BTW, I’m rewatching The Gilded Age in anticipation of S4 coming this fall, as Mrs. Fish declares…

”It’s high-octane bustle-breaking!”

A long time ago, I wrote a story for my former company about my lifelong disdain for shorts, particularly in summer when baring your legs is an obvious, almost obligatory move for cooler civilized dressing.

(This was eight years ago and I wasn’t even menopausing yet…)

I’ve never not loathed shorts—shopping for them, styling them, wincing at myself suspiciously in them—and I wrote that 2018 story along w/this one a few years ago here as my annual declaration, aka: a Tiny Resistance of One, that I don’t have to expose my legs in summer if I don’t want to.

And I assure you, I do not.

Even when I’m tempted to thrift myself a stylish pair of Bermudas or RAD surf shorts—I really do love the way they look on everyone else—I know exactly how things will turn out. Me, stepping in front of the mirror, hopeful, even a tiny bit giddy, and immediately feeling the urgent need to call my therapist.

Exposing my legs to people I know and also don’t know cuts deep. When we were little, my sister and I used to twirl. Batons! And w/this atypical choice of sport came a litany of snug bedazzled bodysuits. Adorable and also humiliating (I knew this as a 7-year-old and I know it now). The only time our legs weren’t exposed in front of strangers was in the dead of winter when we marched in holiday parades wearing tights under our costumes…sometimes with tiny fur-trimmed jackets that made us look like mini Norma Desmonds.

(I am still angry about it).

To this day I feel iffy about bathing suits, a high swingy slit, any sartorial situation where even the most remote glimpse of a thigh might manifest. I’ve found ways around it, even when it’s Dante Inferno-level hot or I need to submerge myself in waves. For example, when we swim, I’ve taken to wearing a simple black bike short over my bikini bottoms…almost like a scuba look, and let me tell you, I think I deserve a medal for this invention. It’s a summertime GAME-CHANGER that’s made getting in + out of bodies of water in public so much less stressful, particularly if you’re like me and feel residual trauma from early years of exposure or criticism (much of it self-inflicted). I tell you, just a tiny bit more coverage makes living in a summertime world a much happier place.

Simon Miller striped pants w/a little stretch and a really soft waist-band…heat-wave approved.

There are exactly zero reasons to appreciate how unnaturally hot our summers are becoming, but as w/everything here at ATA HQ, we find ever more soulful/stylish ways to thrive in the face of challenges AND appalling humidity. This sharp edit of cool pants for people who hate shorts hits the spot. And by all means, take notes from other people around your town and the cool/beautiful ways they’re navigating 99 degrees in the shade. (IE: Last week when I was running around the city working on a thrifting story for Cool Stuff NYC—coming 🔜!—I spied the author/poet David Nazario ⬇️, and asked if I could take a photo, as the cropped CDG-style pants + sports jersey are my kind of summertime uniform (likely jazzed up with a sexy sandal for kicks).

My point: Finding our own way to do/wear/express the season at hand matters. And w/everyone talking about how many summers they have left, I don’t want to waste what I have left of my own worrying about the backs of my thighs. I cherish them, they are mine, and if we prefer pants over shorts during a time in history when everyone needs to carry portable fans w/them wherever they go—so be it.

Bring the fan. Something delicious to spritz. Stay hydrated. And enjoy this little menu of extremely good summer pants whether you’re a shorts person or not. Stay cool—and let’s have some fun here… ✅✅✅ xxCb❤️

1. POPLIN PANTS.

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1/ I watched the Jeff Buckley documentary a few weeks ago, and I can’t really shake it. Next May will be 30 years since the musician/artist drowned in a river in Memphis, where he was living at the time, writing/recording his second album after his debut in 1994, Grace (forever a masterpiece). The second album was never completed, but we have this beautiful, totally transporting film to take us back to that time, his music, NYC in the 1990s, and why Jeff Buckley’s profound mark in this world continues to move + guide us. Watch it…and please, if you do, let me know what you think either in the comments or a DM.

2/ Someone I learned about thrifting this past weekend to keep on your summer yard sale radar: Vtg artwork by Harris G. Strong.

This mid-century ceramicist who passed away in Maine in 2006 created some fascinating work/pieces over his lifetime…here are a few I really love. Below from top left, pair of abstracts, two women, blue diptych, cityscape.

3/ Really good “coffee” in my favorite vtg Joe Colombo cup, c/o PIQUE.**

Early one morning not long ago, my husband audibly cracked up when he heard me whisper under my breath (when I thought no one could hear me!) ”I love coffee.” I really do. But I also love finding alternatives that are kinder to my body + brain and help me stay focused when I’m writing + an afternoon nose-dive wants to have its way w/me. Pique sent me this Nandaka functional mushroom coffee made with ceremonial Peruvian cacao, plus full-spectrum fruiting-body mushrooms and fermented Pu’er tea for calm, steady energy. It’s not just another mushroom coffee, and tastes incredible (it almost has a smokey/herby vibe, which I LOVE). I even created a special spot for it in the kitchen in an Ettore Sottsass jar, so we could grab it easily.

If you’ve been looking for a yummy at-home mocha-style drink to give you smooth mood/immune/energy support without the spike/crash of traditional coffee, this is definitely it. AND: All ATA readers get 20% off for life + some free gifts using my link: https://piquelife.com/christenenandaka. #piquepartner #nandaka

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This past weekend upstate, I was walking back to our car from a playdate with my daughter when I passed two beautiful identical Milo Baughman-style side tables on the front lawn of an old house. They weren’t just side tables—the wood was heavy and the color was this lovely shade of cool putty. And the house wasn’t just old—it was 213 years old—and still standing…quite elegantly, in fact. As Raffi and I were gingerly making our way over to the tables on the lawn (restraint, people 😬), an older gentleman was hauling another hulking piece of furniture out the front door and down the wooden steps.

“Oh, can I help you!?” I called out to him, running over. I don’t even remember exactly what it was that I helped him carry to the royal-blue dumpster parked alongside the house. Raffi stood by, hugging my leg, while the man and I began to chat…about everything he was cleaning out. And, of course, the house. It turned out, he was the person managing the sale of this multi-centuries-old home, which at one time was built for and owned by the children of an esteemed local family. Its most recent job was functioning as the home and resident gathering place for another gentleman, his late friend, who worked at Bloomingdale’s for many decades and had exquisite taste. In everything. Which was what was in the house. EVERYTHING. EVERYWHERE.

Old books, upholstered antiques, copper pots, chandeliers, fine paintings, handmade carpets, fraying silk curtains, so much cocktail-ware, I was immediately fantasizing about what it might have been like to roll up to his house, back 30/40 years ago, wearing a vintage Halston gown and having a few too many Boulevardiers before calling a taxi to shuttle me home.

The putty-colored side tables, and a few more treasures I scavenged from the old house before they landed in the dumpster. The Werner Pfeiffer poster is hand-painted from an exhibition in Nice in 1979, and it will hang proudly in the Dr.’s Inn when we finish renovating.

Very vintage stationery the former owner must have collected from his various travels to fancy hotels. The silver tray was home to a collection of crystal decanters and other extravagant bar paraphernalia. I cherish it.

The three of us, Raffi occasionally letting go of my hand to roam through tiny closets and peek around corners, walked the house while the friend/real estate person told me stories about the former owner who had passed away. “This was where he hosted parties,” he said motioning to the great living room, its ceiling now slightly collapsing. “And this is where he kept those side tables,” he told me upstairs pointing into one of the sprawling light-filled bedrooms. “This was his linen closet…he just loved linens!” he said cheerfully as we peered into a creaky hallway cupboard piled high with white muslin sheets and many tiny moths who’d happily made it their home over the years, too. 

I was enchanted. It was hard not to be. The more I learned about the house, the more I wanted to know. And so, over the next few days, I met this person at his late friend’s very old house and helped him clean out more and more things from more and more years of his friend’s former life. Things that hadn’t been bought at the handful of estate sales they’d held after he died. I hadn’t realized it, but about a month ago, I actually—unexpectedly—went to one of these estate sales, which was taking place on the front lawn where I had just found those Baughman-esque side tables. How did I not even realize until that moment that I had already inherited some of this fascinating person’s things?

What remained. Maybe it’s easier to imagine/romanticize the stories that might have happened here because they weren’t my own. I’m not sure. But seeing this room still made me lonely for them.

As all the pictures, mirrors, and objects came down off the walls and as tables and chairs were moved, it was hard not to see or feel the shadows left behind by these missing pieces. Not just of the things that were once there, but of memories…of all the people who might have stood there 200 years ago, 50 years ago, yesterday, in its presence. Taking in its light and radiance...the home that it once was and how it had probably changed, season to season, year to year, owner to owner. I took a photo of the wall in the dining room, the ghostly outlines of old, loved things that had already moved on to their next life. And here the room stood…empty. In this house that was also almost empty, waiting for what—and who—would come next.

More beautiful things I was given while helping with the final clear-out—a very old metal bucket and a collection of vintage blue bottles, maybe used for serving water at some very grand dinner parties. And above that, all the crystal barware I rescued.

I was very happy to take this little once-white slipper chair. I will probably recover it with either a vintage fabric from my collection or something iconic from Maharam. Either way, I’ll share it here when I do:).

I saved this 1943 copy of The Joy of Cooking for my friend Eden, along with all the handwritten and typed recipes still tucked inside.

And yet, even when we thought the house was really empty, there seemed to be more and more things emerging from drawers, shelves, and cracks, reminding us they still needed to find a new home, too: an old 1943 copy of The Joy of Cooking; an embroidery-covered table of crystal barware; a giant gold gilded mirror, its frame slightly warped, but still SO ready for another PARTY. There was more, including a pair of huge stained-glass windows in the basement and a petite, once-white slipper chair w/ottoman, perfect for a small space like ours, that will continue to grow and change with us.

I wanted to save it all, but I knew that I couldn’t. And so, one by one, he and I dragged two more sofas to the dumpster. A box of broken frames, piles of once pristine Wamsutta towels now aged and discolored, an old iron. And, with every toss of a hefty bag, I said goodbye and a little “thank you” under my breath. Thank you for allowing me to be here for this private event. This sacred transition. Bearing witness to 200+ years of life, now moving on yet again into a new chapter.

Above, the house in all its former fancy magazine glory, sometime in the mid-’80s.

After the heaviest things were tossed, the gentleman—whom I could safely say now felt like a friend—said, “I brought you something.” From inside his car, he pulled out and handed me a design magazine from the 1980s with this house, once grand and majestic, full of life and flowers and big beams of LIGHT, on the cover. Inside, I was able to see, one by one, the rooms as they were 40 years ago, as I was standing right there in one of them, holding the magazine in my hands—connecting that other time with where we were in that moment. It reminded me of gently holding the hand of anyone I’d ever loved as they were about to go through something big…scary or disorienting. In that moment, I felt that house in my hands. I still feel it as I write these words now.

I don’t know the people who recently bought the house. Maybe I will meet them someday. It will be their home soon, to do with as they please. To replace the faded wallpaper with something else. To refinish the floors and hang new artworks…or not. All I know is that I was just walking down the sidewalk that day with my daughter, and out of nowhere, I was given this gift. A gift from a person I met that day, cleaning out the house of his friend who had died. A gift that reminded me how much our spaces and homes imprint not just on us but on everyone who passes through them. Whether it is their home or not. And how that stays with us, long after everyone and everything has left. Maybe it’s not even the things at all, but the life and the stories imbued in those things that I have a hard time depositing into a dumpster.

The dumpster…beautiful in its own way 💙.

Before I left on the final day we spent at the house, I found a basket in one of the rear rooms and began walking around, collecting what remained of the smallest things—a loved/used copper pot, mismatched candlesticks, a crystal juicer, a stack of vintage English dessert dishes. My new friend helped me find a discarded paper bag and a Sharpie for the sign, and I carried them out in front and left them by the curb with a pretty orphaned pedestal table. “Free Treasure.”

What could be better than that?…xxCb

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Check out our Tiny Summer Dress Shop on ShopMy as well as lots of other design + style treasures to peruse. If you click on or buy anything in today’s A Tiny Apartment, we might earn a tiny commission at no cost to you.

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I knew she’d been struggling with some family and work stuff and felt like she couldn’t get anything to move/shift/resolve (who else can relate?👯‍♀️). I hopped on the subway, and while the kids were at school, we sat down in her kitchen with some snacks and talked. What came out was what I was partially expecting…but then some other stuff surfaced, too.
…I can’t focus.
…Things are falling apart.
…I don’t want to live here anymore.
…I hate the way I look.
…I need to get DIVORCED!

I listened…to all of it. Figuring we would start with something that could ease us into everything else, I asked her why she didn’t want to live in her apartment anymore. She immediately shot off a laundry list of things she hated about her home (which, by the way, is pretty dreamy w/views and space, etc.). What she listed weren’t even really big things. More annoyances/complaints than real structural issues. Things like: I hate the floors! I have no place to work! Our dining table is too small!

“But what if we move the dining area over here where there’s more room for a bigger table? Could that work?” I asked her? Her eyes got wide. “Could we do that??” she asked. Mind you, this is a woman who has led giant global companies + teams, given presentations in front of thousands of terrifying people, and regularly hangs out with film legends. “YES,” I told her. “You can move your table. And get a new one.”

For someone who secretly hates change, I like to change our apartment a lot. Shades, rugs, new/old artworks, a sofa or chair, here and there 👹. When the pandemic happened and we were at home ALL the time, I squarely faced all the little bits of our apartment that truly bugged me. Most of us did. What else could we do other than spend hours cooking beans and planning all the home improvements we’d been avoiding?

Two of my favorite pandemic upgrades—dare I say two projects that helped me conceive this newsletter after I’d left a job I’d had for 15 years and really didn’t know what I wanted to do next. 1) Creating a mosaic around our fireplace with tiles from Huguet in Mallorca and 2) Installing a hidden pegboard “closet” for Raffi behind her bedroom door.

Facing and fixing things that need fixing—home and otherwise—is one of the greatest things we can do to A) get out of a Life Rut and B) procrastinate from doing other shit we should also probably be doing. 👹

IMHO, mending/upgrading small things is the absolute lottery—yielding all the joy and satisfaction of a big hairy reno w/out the mess/cost/nervous breakdown. Fixing small things also helps us fix bigger ones. It’s like that Albert Einstein quote, “Nothing happens until something moves.”

You might not see it immediately, but when something visible shifts…the invisible starts to shift, too. Stuff flows again, and we start to see and know how to map the road ahead. With a whole new apartment…or just some new curtains.

Before our new kitchen cabinet doors were fabricated, I tricked out some leftover Maharam fabric into makeshift curtains to conceal our cacophony of cleaning products. Even this temporary phase of change made me SO happy.

In the last four months, we took on four mini upgrades in our little apartment that have not only improved the look of our space but our quality of life, too. Four spots that needed mending and just a newer/better chapter, including the kitchen makeover I’ve been wanting to do for years (!!) and re-imagining our daughter’s room—which is empty all day while she’s at school—into an extra swing office/work space.

I do not want to minimize what it feels like to really fall apart. To want to change EVERYTHING in your life…to want to start over. I have been there, too.

But sometimes, when we grab a true friend to look around our own space, into all the corners and spots that make us absolutely crazy with frustration or rage (things we can actually FIX) we sometimes realize we don’t need a divorce after all.

Just a new dining table. ❤️

Quick note before we get into today’s story—a tiny/giant THANK YOU to Helix for being such a wonderful ATA partner here. When we announced that we would start renovating our upstate Doctor’s Office (Dr.’s Inn:) this summer, they generously offered us a few mattresses to make our in-between time there a little bit cozier.

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The room Raffi sleeps in was, in fact, the original doctor’s office—wood paneling, shelving, and all. It was too tiny for a bed frame, so we dressed up her Helix mattress on the floor with beautiful blankets and quilts (post-renovation, she’ll have a proper platform:). At night, when we read in bed, Raffi tells me how much she loves her room here and how much she’ll miss it when this phase of our upstate home is over. I know what she means. Thankfully, we have so many incredible images documenting this phase of the journey, and I’m thankful to Helix for being a part of it. Reminder to all ATA readers: Helix is running its July 4 sale with 20% off site-wide through the holiday. (AND for tiny apartment dwellers in particular, Helix offers a Twin XL size if you need a little more bed in a not-so-big-spot.) We’ll be announcing the winner of last week’s mattress giveaway soon, and thanks to everyone for dropping your names in! #helixsleep #helixpartner

1. Creating a Tiny Restaurant-Style Working Kitchen.

The Challenge: Thinking back 12 years to creating the original design for our tiny kitchen is like a fever dream. We painted the cabinets black (???), which at the time contrasted nicely against the white-painted wood floorboards. But over the years, the paint chipped, the doors got dinged and warped, and the floor revealed patches of bare spots where we walked and stood repeatedly pulling cans of seltzer from the fridge or scrambling eggs. The busier life got, the simpler I wanted our kitchen to be. So, when I spotted this story in T magazine on the designer of Dean & DeLuca’s home in East Hampton, I had my answer: Making a simple cabinet upgrade that was as much an homage to the Dean & DeLuca I missed + longed for as it was a chance to make our teeny kitchen chicer and more functional.

The kitchen (above) that inspired our new kitchen (below), the Long Island home of artist Jack Ceglic and his partner Manuel Fernandez-Casteleiro, photographed by Blaine Davis for T.

Timing: After Kevin shared the specs, the crew came and took the doors with them to ensure the stainless-steel copies were exact. Even though it only took about a week and a half for them to turn the new cabinet doors around, I still covered the nightmare of seeing all our cleaning supplies exposed with some Maharam remnant fabric leftover from another project (friends: I am not looking for a medal here, but I created these “curtain” doors myself and I LOVE them).
Cost: $1,200
The Result: Honestly…bliss. I love the reflection and the way the steel picks up light. They’re hard-wearing, so we don’t have to worry about dents or scratches. They’re easy to clean, and it could just be my wishful thinking but the steel makes the space look slightly bigger, too.
Bonus upgrade: Even though I sort of like the weathered painted floor, I yearned for that full makeover feeling, so we used this change as a chance to install a proper full-size runner rug. Our choices were limited given the dimensions of this super tiny space are hella narrow (a 2x7-foot runner was the goal). We landed on this machine-washable rug by Revival (on sale now, woo!). The first thing Kevin said when he stood on the rug at the counter was that he loved how it felt underfoot. ✅ (Like, why did I never think to put a runner here before??)

Above, two of the Woodward Weave rugs I wanted for our kitchen runner but they couldn’t cut it in the smaller size I needed. Below, the kitchen runner runners-up 😎 from IKEA and Hawkins New York.

Last little bit: I thrifted this vintage lamp at the Goodwill for $5. Every kitchen, old or new, needs some mood lighting in the evening at bed/tea time.

2. Expanding our Dining “Room” w/a Built-In Window Seat.

The early days, our dining “room” before…

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It’s a slim paperback that came out in 1989 and chronicles an urban California woman’s journey to live with an Amish family after she is “spellbound” by a series of geometric Amish quilts used as backdrops in a fancy NYC menswear boutique. The author Sue Bender’s writing is the kind that almost mimics the spareness the Amish are known for, but the story she threads, not unlike a quilt, is so rich and comforting I’ve been spreading it out, reading only a few pages at a time before bed so I can make it last as long as possible.

One of the things Bender references in the book is this idea of Spiritual Baggage, what the early Amish came to Pennsylvania with in the absence of actual material things.

I tabbed the page and kept coming back to it…and this feeling or concept that baggage can be spiritual. It reminded me of the story I shared a few weeks ago about how to fall back in love with your closet, and more so, finding new ways to use and love the things we already have. That story and spiritual baggage feel linked. Because when we pay more attention to all the stuff that surrounds us, we inextricably begin to find the gaps between those things, too—where a little bit of spiritual energy can live and expand, making us depend on new shit less and less.

The first look I came up with w/my new dress. It might be my favorite, too. (Links below.)

Today’s story wasn’t a planned continuation of paring down/jazzing up our existing clothes, though I suppose that’s always a theme here: optimizing our space/LIVES and, as a result, finding beauty in the stuff that’s lost or forgotten. But when I started sorting through my summer dresses and realized I didn’t really have a single GREAT one to take me through a few different seasons in some borderline outrageous ways, I went looking.

I will say I found a lot of very MEH options—derivative shapes/styles that were too safe or too aimless…just sort of THERE. I definitely do not need more of that. 🚫

But when I found this simple long chiffon-style dress by Massimo Dutti (which goes on sale today:) with slim straps in a warm putty color, I thought, hmmm, I can I work with this…AND have FUN with it. I immediately started cooking up looks for basic beach-y days, out-there dress-up moments, sometimes mocking a skirt or a full-on gown, and everything in between. Buying this new dress, putting it on, and playing with it reminded me why and how the value of a piece instantly soars when we put in the time and care to find the right one in the first place. Because when we do, things begin to shift—and everything else around it either levels up…or just moves on.

A great dress checks a lot of boxes. Maybe ALL the boxes. And when it’s hot out, it checks that (sweaty) box, too—a one-and-done move that makes it easier to get dressed when it’s 100 degrees and ventilation is non-negotiable. Summertime’s Mother of Invention—one dress worn 13 ways (so far!) to give us all more clues/inspiration for heading into our closets a little sideways. Because it’s fun. And because it always makes space for more of the spiritual stuff, too. 🚀

**Before we jump into today’s story, one last shout-out to Biologica for being one of our most favorite paid partners at A Tiny Apartment. Last week, I took Raffi to Florida to see my mom, and I brought along some extra packets of their PostMenopause formula for my mom to try, too. As luck would have it, I thrifted a pair of vintage La Rochere France low-ball glasses for a $1 each. I loved them so much that I drank my Biologica blend in them every morning…and it was JOY.

Here’s your tiny reminder that Biologica has a blend of vitamins, herbs, and other botanicals to support you, your brain, and your body through whatever hormonal shift you might be going through. And in these wonderful individual packets, they are a summer traveler’s BEST FRIEND. ❤️ Biologica is offering 15% off subscriptions, too, just use ATINYAPT at checkout. #biologicapartner

Okay, let’s get into it!…xxCb

#1—A topcoat + simple vintage belt.

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Good morning friends…it’s officially yard sale/auction season, and collecting super-special stuff for our Dr.’s Inn house project has been a con…

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I’ve got a story coming soon about confronting the “off-season closet,” which is a nice thing to call a place separate from your main/everyday closet to essentially hoard things we don’t or barely wear and also never think about, because if we did, we would never put them in an actual black hole of “safe” keeping.

Much of what prompted today’s story is twofold: Prepping for our Summer Micro Wardrobe story, as well as the impending renovation of our 1964 doctor’s office upstate. It’s not a huge building, just shy of 1,500 sqft (our biggest to date, even tho the avg American home is about 2200 sqft, give or take a powder room). But how we design and really use this new home has been on my mind…relentlessly. In particular, how much storage proportional to living space do we really need?

The Dr.’s Inn, our 1964 brick pediatrician’s office when we bought it, left. Right, one of the latest renderings of what it will become. Who’s excited for this transformation?? 😬

My life over the past two years that we’ve been completing the cabin and squirreling away as much $$ as possible has led to a series of closet sales—hardcore edits to not only carve out precious space in my already tidy wardrobe but to really understand and be at peace w/my own shopping psychology (psychosis?), ie: what has been worth buying in Real Life, Right Now and what clearly has not (aka: the stuff that ends up for sale).

My friend Gillian, who just launched a new shopping curation company Darlings World, is an expert at what she calls The Savage Edit (we 100% need a T-shirt for that). When I asked her recently for her take on stripping back all the noise and superfluous pairs of languishing jeans in our possession, to get at the real stuff our style is trying to teach us, she shared something breath-taking...

“It’s like Love beauty, Love design, Love objects, but ultimately be very careful about what you let in,” she said. “It’s one thing to appreciate—it’s another thing to procure. Because once you procure, you have to care for it.”

Gillian reminded me that when we buy something and own it, it is ours to use AND look after—not just become a boarder in our cupboard/closet. So, what does it mean today to care for something we buy and wear? To love it enough to use it and take the time and seasons to build that bond of caring for it in our lives + collections over time?

My grandmother had one closet. ONE. Not one for in-season and one for off-season. ONE closet with about 20 things on hangers at most and one dresser. THE END.

And, I think she would be genuinely outraged by how many articles of clothing I own. Do I even know how many hangers I have? I do not want to know…I mean, I DO, but I also absolutely do not.

When we remember that relationship and really notice it—that connection between us and something we actively choose to spend our money on—it becomes more than stuff. It becomes a tool, a muse, a material to make beauty and active shifts in not just our style, but our lives. And something else: WE get sharper, quicker, and ever more “savagely” ruthless about what makes the cut and deserves the care we are committing to give.

Irene Kim of the magnificent fashion site In Modas Veritas said something similar in a text to me (she also wrote a brilliant five-point checklist for choosing what makes the cut to buy and what does not).

Irene in Paris. Aka: A person who knows that ALL the Mysteries of the Universe will be OURS when we have the courage and clarity to shred our closets down to the hits and ONLY the hits.

“I culled 75% of my closet when I recently moved to Paris from Toronto because I was living in 1/3 the space!” she shared. “I decided that this was a rare opportunity to keep only what I love, without qualification. It didn’t matter if I ‘needed’ it and didn’t have something similar in cut, color, or utility. I got rid of anything I didn’t truly love, even if it meant leaving a gap in my closet.”

These days, an actual gap in my closet feels like real luxury…space to breathe, to wonder, to maybe even wish for that perfect, beautiful thing—a summer dress or otherwise—that might show up and remind us of that incredible feeling of FALLING IN LOVE again.

And that’s today’s story. Before I choose the short list of things to make the (deep!) cut of our summer wardrobe in a few weeks, I’m heading back into my own closet—taking cues from Gillian, Irene, as well as a handful of photos of cool + interesting styling riffs I’ve been collecting—to see what new stuff we can dream up with the stuff we already have. (I bet there’s more in there than we thought there was. ❤️)

So, here’s to falling into those luxurious GAPS in our closets. And turning up GOLD. Let’s get into it. xxCb

1. Take photos of yourself. Not for anyone but YOU.

This photo was an accident when I was trying to shoot this vintage Courrèges coat I bought at Palm Beach Vintage a while back. I wanted to capture the underside of the collar, which was navy corduroy, and when I looked at this picture, I was like, “Oh! I should really pop my collar more often.” That’s what happens when we take photos of ourselves (consider it an unexpected upside of the influencer generation:). We get to see ourselves from different angles and get more intimate with what looks AND FEELS good to wear. And how! I routinely pop my collar now, like a reflex, or how I turn on my tiny kitchen lamp every morning. When we mess around and take photos JUST FOR US, looking at them lovingly like our own little kid (because in some ways, we ARE), something new and interesting always reveals itself.

2. Make a nightgown your instant pick-me-up uniform.

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I felt this way when I first saw Marshall Neve’s apartment on Instagram. I’m not sure why it popped up in my feed (plywood is the likely culprit!), but it did, and for that I am thankful to the algorithmic Gods. I messaged Marshall cold almost immediately, and graciously, he responded. While I could tell his apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan was on the smaller side, it also possessed one of the rare and endlessly wondrous qualities I have a tendency to go ON AND ON about here: expansiveness. Not just in scale and how a space can flex as we grow and change, but also in how a space can make us feel.

Marshall, who hails from Texas, has lived in this 400 square-foot apartment for four years, and when I met him there in April to photograph it, he told me that no matter what happened or where he might go, he never wanted to give it up. The two—him and his home—were bonded.

And, I get that. Our attachments to tight spaces or ANY spaces that come to us in strange shape or a bit feral somehow leave a mark on us. Devotedly coaxing a home out of its quirky shell is sort of a hallmark of NYC dwelling…and it turns out to be wonderful training for all the spaces that show up in our lives with weird and beautiful secrets to share.

When we take the time to listen to our homes, really hear what it is they want to express in their own distinct way, we get something, too. This loving electrical charge shifts it from a physical space into something soulful. Alive and always changing.

I am so excited about today’s Tiny Tour…so, please do grab your cup of tea or cortado and get cozy. There’s so much to learn and be inspired by here, and I’m so grateful to Marshall for inviting us in and sharing it all with us. Let’s get into it…xxCb/ATA

ATA: How long have you lived in New York and, more specifically, this apartment?
MARSHALL: I moved to NYC in 2019, just a few weeks after graduating from the University of Texas Austin. I worked in advertising as a Media Planner and lived in an unremarkable apartment in the East Village. During the pandemic, I took a brief hiatus from New York, returning a year later with a new apartment on the corner of Elizabeth and Spring in Nolita, as well as a new career path in decoration. That led me to where I am today...in a plywood box in Chinatown. I moved into this apartment nearly four years ago, on what [initially] felt like a whim, but what now feels like fate.

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Erin and I have been researching this story for a few weeks now, gathering up a tight edit of good-looking options for the season ahead. But yesterday, since I was running around Manhattan, I decided to pay attention to what real people were wearing in real time, on a stinking, unnaturally hot day, running up and down subway stairs, living their beautiful lives. ❤️

The first person I stopped (above) was getting off the R train w/me at Prince Street. When I asked about her shoes, which I KNEW on contact were vintage ‘90s Gucci, I asked her where they were from. “They were my mom’s!” she cooed. AHHHH! To have a pair of hand-me-down cocoa brown suede Gucci loafers like this. With no socks, no less!

THIS is the true pleasure of summer to me—wearing what you want/vintage Gucci, when you want to.

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Above are some other people who kindly let me snap their shoes, including (from left to right) some classic Birkenstocks + stripes, someone who told me she’d clocked 15k steps in her studded Loeffler Randall slides (and then proudly showed me her pristine/blisterless bare feet!), and our friend Amanda Hesser wearing these sneaker-loafers she found at No. 6 Store in New York (THE tiny downtown emporium for comfy shoes).

And! Because I was paying attention to people’s shoes and not my phone, I realized I was sitting next to someone I knew on the subway, a filmmaker/producer named Cameo, who kindly let me grab a snap of her chic jellies (no blisters in sight, friends).

Hi Cameo! Let’s grab coffee this summer 😎. Below, evidence of comfy summer shoes at No. 6 Store on Centre Market Place.

The last thing I will add before we dive into the 22+ most comfortable pairs of summer shoes we found—plus a cheat-sheet of tips at the bottom for happy summer feet, too—is THIS: On one of my shopping research visits yesterday, I found a pair of buckled moccasins I fell hard for. When I tried to put them on, I could feel the hard leather of the high vamp digging into the prettiest top part of my foot where all my nice, SENSITIVE bones connect. “How’d you do?” one of the people working asked cheerfully. “Oof,” I said. “I think if I tried to walk to the cash register, these are going to give me a blister.” And this is what she said: “If you can put up with three or four hours of pain, they’re totally worth it!”

I cannot even get into this insanity, but I will say those adorable shoes did not make it into our edit. To anyone reading this who has triggering memories of limping to or from an event, asking strangers for band-aids after realizing the three you’d applied before you left the house were not enough—today’s ATA featurette is for YOU. ⬇️

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Good morning gang, before we get into today’s Cabin slideshow, a few bits of JOY to share…

1. Here’s a clip of two swans being reunited in Prospect Park after one of them was rehabilitated for an injury. (They are my “people”…)

It’s possible that if more of us marveled at the goodness of these Wild Bird Fund people + the love of these two swans, there’d be a lot less bullshit in the world.

2. Speed-Round of Brimfield Highlights 🚦💡🔦

⬆️ THE quilt. ⬇️ Me buying THE quilt.

Last Friday, our little crew of treasure hunters boarded a sprinter van at 6 a.m. in Brooklyn to spend the day foraging for all manner of vintage riches at Brimfield. It was nearly the last day of the week-long show and, as the clouds shifted in the sky upon our arrival, everything/anything in the world seemed possible. We clocked around 15k steps, ate pizza standing up, and made innumerable tote bag drops at our van throughout the day. We capped off our marathon with a tiny show-and-tell paired with a crisp + cold rosé and charcuterie. Net-net: Spending an entire day outside w/friends seeking vintage, beauty, and real connection is soul stuff of the highest order. ✨

Scenes from Brimfield, our A Tiny Apartment/Cool Best Friend crew, as well as a few things I came home with.

Everyone got an ATA thrifting tote plus a special gift from our friends at Bags In Progress (one of the perks of coming on our curated thrifting adventures…GIFTS!). Below, Katherine of Harris Home in Brooklyn Heights, doing her victory lap w/the day’s last haul of goodies. ❤️

3. The cult of Vintage Sportmax.

I scored these vintage Sportmax madras pants at Brimfield (along with the vintage navy blue tee and the long-handled vintage LL Bean tote (…LOVE!!) for about $40. It immediately reminded me and our ATA editor Erin that vtg Sportmax is an incredible, oft forgotten label to add to your weekly search terms asap (basically, it’s big sister Max Mara on the cheap). Here are a few goodies we found on eBay to wet your whistle (I’d take all four!).

From top left: Vintage Sportmax bermuda shorts, raincoat, cotton plaid pants (OOOeeee!), and cream blazer (that 100% looks like The Row).

4. A quick partner tout + discount (!!) from Biologica ❤️

Back in this story, I shared how Biologica’s daily vitamin blends have become a regular part of my morning routine, as well as not only my protocol for managing my menopausal ups/downs, but also learning more about peri/menopause, too. Most of our moms didn’t have any access to helpful data OR experts who truly gave a shit about women’s health, particularly when they reach the middle of their (exhausted, overworked) lives. And supplements like these are a BIG way we can feel more supported and SEEN at a time when most of us feel frequently lost. I like to alternate between the Midlife (GREAT for sleep quality) and Post-Menopause that offers ingredients like Chromax/Chromium Picolinate, clinically shown to support metabolism, and Pomella/Pomegranate Extract, which studies show helps with skin hydration and “a small reduction in wrinkles” (Woo!). Plus: Complete bone health complex, electrolytes, probiotics, + other essential vitamins/minerals so you don’t have to take any other vitamins if you don’t want to.

A super vitamin blend like this for women has never existed before (this research proves it). AND, this is pretty cool ⬆️: Even though the container looks lovely on my countertop already, Biologica made the can reusable/adaptable—an ATA hallmark:)—by crafting a candle that fits neatly inside it 🌹. Biologica is offering A Tiny Apt. readers 15% off—just use the code ATINYAPT at checkout. #BiologicaPartner

And now! Let’s get into today’s story…xxCb

Even though I am unabashedly not a summer person, there really is nothing like that first 90-degree 😑 day after (way) too many cold, gray mornings to count. Warmer days, kinder schedules, easier moods. And (my favorite) breezy sun-speckled spaces that are begging to be napped in.

After Brimfield, I spent Saturday night with some girlfriends in the Berkshires, after which we paired off and my friend Amy came with me to drop off all my vintage goodies at the cabin and style/swap out a few things to lighten the mood a bit for the hotter months ahead. The wildflowers are starting to come up and, even though I’m not a very gifted gardener, we’ve been adding lots of native trees and bushes to the mix, making the landscape ever more wonderful to walk and discover things as the new season starts to bloom.

Here’s a photo album of all the cool things happening lately at the cabin…and should we put a tiny pool in, too? Maybeeeee??

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A few weeks ago, Kevin, Raffi, and I were heading home from a friend’s event in Chelsea. As we were walking toward 7th Avenue, I saw it: a fluorescent “Psychic” light beamed in the window of a storefront.

Photo by our downstairs neighbor’s daughter.

I hadn’t clocked this particular sign in almost 15 years. I’m not even sure I’d thought about it until that moment, nearly 6 p.m. on a gloomy Sunday, everyone getting cranky for dinner. But for some reason, Kevin noticed I was suspiciously distracted, even with the rain coming down steadier. “What’s the matter?” he asked as we headed toward the 2 train.

I pointed across the street, “I went to that psychic once when I was trying to get pregnant with Raffi,” I said. “And I think she scammed me out of $1k.”

I had never said that out loud before. To anyone.

“WHAT??” He said, looping his head around in his hood to face me. “Come again??”

We were getting on the subway, and I didn’t want to talk about it with Raffi in earshot. But when we got home, soggy coats and shoes off, a pot of soup heating up on the stove, and Raffi cozying up w/her favorite show, I told him the story.

After my third or fourth miscarriage, when Kevin and I were still living in our studio apartment on Atlantic Avenue, someone who had also struggled with this kind of loss told me that she’d gone to see a psychic. “She changed everything for me,” she wrote emphatically in an email. One of my dearest friends had connected us, someone I trusted (and still do). This woman had been one of her clients and apparently had always raved about this particular psychic. “Maybe she can help?” My friend had said to me. I knew her heart…and honestly, I could sense hers and everyone else’s helplessness in offering any comfort, guidance, or advice that would actually make a difference. The funny thing about failure is you gradually become open to ANYTHING…including a psychic at a storefront in Chelsea.

So, I connected with this woman I didn’t know and got the details of this clairvoyant or “healer,” as she described her, who allegedly had real gifts and a knack for helping people unblock their blocks. At that point, every grim phone call or meeting with a doctor cost as much as our rent, every paycheck instantly gobbled up by some test or treatment that had “a 54% success rate.”

Seeing a psychic in Chelsea really didn’t seem all that different.

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