Brooklyn The Borough

On a recent warm summer evening, two young professional couples sat idly chatting before a performance of Hamlet at Central Park's Delacorte Theater.

"Have you been to the new Ikea in Red Hook?" one of the young men asked his companions, receiving a chorus of "no, not yet!" in response.

On came a list of household items wanted, but not necessarily needed. "I was a bit worried about getting everything home on the ferry," one young lady said.

"I can help you," said her male companion.

With the opening of Ikea Brooklyn on June 18, no longer is a trip to Elizabeth, N.  read more »

There he was standing in front of me giggling, arms outstretched, and totally naked. He was bald and wrinkled, like the dancing old man from those Six Flags commercials, but he was just over a foot tall and, from his mostly toothless smile, drooled a bit. His mom scooped him up and got him dressed.

I recently joined a south Brooklyn YMCA and this locker room scene isn't so unusual.

Brooklyn moms and their offspring have been enjoying the Y for a century and a half, but never has parenthood taken so many blows to its reputation.  read more »

"Have you been to Dumbo yet?" my mother asked me over the phone last week.

I certainly had, and was eager to show her around, so we made plans to spend Sunday afternoon perusing the sights down underneath the Manhattan Bridge overpass and in nearby Fort Greene. "I guess I have to get to know Brooklyn," she sighed, her surrender flag finally raised.

Mom is new to Brooklyn. She has been a Manhattanite for close to four decades, and while both of her kids have lived in Brooklyn for the past four years, she rarely comes out to experience the borough. Lately though, she's shown far more interest.

She picked me up early Sunday afternoon and we drove over to Dumbo.  read more »

Regarding this morning's Brooklyn, The Borough: A Tree Salad Grows in Brooklyn: "Uh, I've lived in Crown Heights for six years, and this ain't a restaurant row: It's base-level sustenance. No one in their right mind would travel to Washington Avenue to go to that Thai place."

"I'm in this business for 40 years," said Joe Chirico, standing in front of Marco Polo Ristorante, the restaurant he owns on Court Street in Carroll Gardens. "I started with Joe's Luncheonette two doors away--after so many years of being in fast food, I decided I needed to open a good restaurant."

Last week, Mr. Chirico was celebrating the 25th anniversary of his Italian restaurant with family and longtime friends and customers, including Borough President Marty Markowitz. When the restaurant opened, Mr. Chirico said of the neighborhood, "It was mostly Italian, but now it's changed for the better. We're getting more young people coming from everywhere, especially from Manhattan. This neighborhood is special, it became a very, very happening neighborhood for professional people; everybody likes to live in Carroll Gardens."

And now a new generation of entrepreneurs are following in Mr. Chirico's footsteps all over the borough, and that is especially true in Prospect Heights.  read more »

I finally got a bike. It's a vintage Fuji, and it belonged to my dad. I took it out for a spin through Prospect Park over Memorial Day weekend. I zoomed around the park, stopping to enjoy the lake for a bit, and again to listen to a drum circle where a large group of people were dancing. I sat on my bike, one foot on the curb, and took in the scene.

A baby-faced police officer around my age approached me and tapped me on the shoulder. I was in the road, and though there were no cars or any threat of danger, he told me to move. I ignored him for a minute before using the Lord's name in vain and peddling off.

Don't get me wrong – I'm well aware that we need police officers. They risk their lives to respond to the ills of society; and they do it for not very much money. That officer was probably still making the NYPD's starting salary, a meager $25,000 per year.

The whole experience happened in just a few minutes, but it got me thinking about my time as a community liaison for a state senator in Brooklyn.  read more »

“I was born in the South Slope on 11th Street off Sixth Avenue,” said Matthew Roff, 33, owner of the new Crown Heights beer garden Franklin Park. “Bar Toto was my bodega.”

Someday someone might say the same about the renovated garage that is now Franklin Park. The hip bar – which opened a few weeks ago at the end of the partially unsavory block on St. John's Place between Classon and Franklin – is simple and inviting. Closer to Franklin Avenue, the area probably looks and feels a lot like Park Slope must have when Mr. Roff was growing up.

The first time friends and I went to the beer garden it was Saturday afternoon. We walked down St. John's Place to Franklin. The four of us looked around — there was no bar in sight. We back tracked up the rowhouse-lined block to find a driveway peppered with outdoor seating. Beyond that, a garage door was raised to reveal a wood-and-tile bar. The indoor seating was full of young professional types. Outside, clouds hovered menacingly.  read more »

On a recent Saturday night, I did a little experiment: I broke the rules of youthful social engagement and went to a bar by myself. I sat in the dimly lit courtyard behind Union Pool in Williamsburg. I made myself available, quietly sipping a pint of Blue Moon.

By 11, small groups had perched themselves all around me on wooden benches chatting about their lives, jobs and families. A group of three pretty ladies gossiped vehemently about their film industry jobs. I sat nearby in my frilly dress eavesdropping. After an hour of enjoying the warm weather, and having not made any new acquaintances, I made my way to sit at the bar. Again, no luck. Rarely are Brooklyn's local watering holes a place to meet new people these days. The age-old complaint of post-college social isolation was now fresh in my mind.

While advising me about my love life, my mother always likes to tell stories about her youthful evenings spent at her local singles bar. The rules of engagement are much different now. It's been a long time since there were social mores about which gender approaches the other, pays for dates or makes the first move on a first date. A cursory glance at Craigslist's missed connections section proves that many 25- to 35-year-olds, especially recent transplants, don't necessarily have the stones to introduce themselves in person.  read more »

What do Jasper Johns, Cindy Sherman, Annie Leibovitz and Keith Haring all have in common? Each artist has work up for sale at the 4th Annual Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM to us locals) Silent Auction.

BAM certainly plays an integral part in the Brooklyn art scene, and the auction, which raises money for BAM's various programs, raked in $237,500 last year. Artists from all over the borough have work for sale—which you can bid on on BAM's Web site—many from Williamsburg, Fort Greene and Prospect Heights. Bidding is open until April 13, when the closing reception will bring in the final bids.

Brooklyn has certainly always nurtured creative talent—nothing new there. The borough has increasingly become home to prominent names in the fine-arts community. While an afternoon spent in Manhattan's great museums or in Chelsea's galleries is certainly invigorating, poking around unconventional spaces that have sprung up all over Brooklyn can turn into quite the adventure. Brooklyn is an urban jungle peppered with art, inside and outside of the spaces that facilitate creativity.  read more »

It seems like every time you turn the corner these days you run into yet another new bar. This is especially true in the gentrified neighborhoods of Brooklyn and very much so in Prospect Heights. Time Out New York recently ran a page-long charticle on the heavy bar presence on Vanderbilt Avenue, the go-to strip for ProHo nightlife.

The eight-block avenue boasts restaurants, cafes and boutiques for moms and dads puttering around with their stroller-strapped kids during the day and by night there are no less than four drinking establishments and one on the verge of receiving its liquor license. Recently, my friends Adam and Dave joined me in hitting a few of my local spots, including the brand-new Weather Up and the six-year-old Soda.  read more »

It isn't often that New Yorkers get an intimate peek behind their neighbors' closed doors. Even more unusual is a peek inside the intimate life of our state's chief executive. But I digress.

As a child growing up in a 25-story filing cabinet for families and young professionals on West 53rd Street, I lived in apartment 10E. When trick-or-treating or selling my annual Christmas raffle tickets for school, I would get an intimate window into how my neighbors lived. We all have our domains, and regardless of how small they might be, they are ours. But what are we all doing behind those doors?

On March 5, the Center for an Urban Future and the Brooklyn Economic Development Corporation hosted a forum on the population boom within Brooklyn’s "creative crescent." The number of creative freelancers--artists, writers, designers, architects, performance artists, musicians, graphic designers and others--increased 33.2 percent from 2002 through 2005; now, roughly 28 percent of the city's creative freelancers live and work in the borough. The Brooklyn home is often more than just a place to lay our heads – it can often act as the genesis for our creative and professional lives.  read more »

If you live in Brooklyn, or any outer-borough really, I'm sure you've seen it before: the requisite post-work grocery bag getting lugged home on the train. Often it's the ubiquitous Whole Foods and Trader Joe bags bouncing along the platform awaiting voyages across the East River.

Recently, the City Council passed a bill – despite intense lobbying against it by food retailers – to issue street vending permits for vegetable stands in the city's poorer neighborhoods. It's clear to anyone living in the areas included in the measure – like my neighbors in Bushwick and Bedford-Stuyvesant – that fresh, decent produce is not as readily available as it is in much of Manhattan. Cue that long trip home from Whole Foods.  read more »

As a teenager I spent a fair amount of time traversing New York City's urban terrain in search of live music. I was partial to punk. I spent a lot of time at Saturday punk matinees at ABC No Rio and the Dumbo art collective DUMBA. At 16, I marched down to the DMV to get a resident ID to prove to CBGB's Hilly Kristal that I was old enough to shove people to an orchestra of power chords.

I remember the devastation of Giuliani's ruling against dancing in bars and the death knell of advancing gentrification, the demise of the places I used to frequent (except for ABC No Rio, which managed to buy its squatted building from the city in the late 90's and is now planning a serious renovation). In a recent article for The Observer, Chris Shott described the debilitating regulatory environment that many music venues contend with now.  read more »

Though I spent three years living in Greenpoint, I often found myself shunning the local nightlife—aside from a few restaurants and my local watering hole the Pencil Factory—for cozy nights in on my quiet residential street. Especially during this time of year. But despite no longer residing there, I've recently found myself traveling north to Williamsburg and Greenpoint for a night out more often and apparently, I'm not alone!

On a recent Thursday, I headed to the Music Hall of Williamsburg to catch a few bands play. On my walk toward the venue, which stands just short of the East River, I bypassed the Thai restaurant Sea, now North 6th Street's bridge-and-tunnel capital. Patrons were falling out of the doors, the line for a table immense, while a DJ boomed hip hop to a crowd donning their Sunday (or Thursday) best. Similarly, up the street, Planet Thai was packed to the brim with people seeking a lounge, restaurant and bar feel all in one.  read more »

One of the major differences, generally speaking, between Manhattan and Brooklyn is the proximity you have to your neighbor. In Manhattan, residents may feel piled on top of each other in shoeboxes or filing cabinets, depending on your metaphor preference, but rarely will they ever get to know one another. In Brooklyn, residents tend to have more space and fewer neighbors, yet the proximity seems closer.

Brooklynites exist closer to the urban frontier.  read more »

Apparently it's quite controversial to discuss the experience of living in Brooklyn when it comes to the topic of race. A few weeks back, I dared to talk about it and received a lot of flack. But in my hood, Prospect Heights, and anywhere really, race, class and gentrification are heavy topics, and I'm not going to shy away from them.

After graduating college, I spent close to two years working in central Brooklyn politics, commuting south every morning from my apartment in Greenpoint to a state senator's office on Flatbush Avenue near Lincoln Place. I worked with families whose homes were in disrepair, mediating fights with landlords over HPD cases; and with community groups, landlords and community affairs police officers over drug-related crime. All the work merely put band-aids on a broken system. I often returned home in utter shock. Perhaps you've seen The Wire.  read more »

It's easy to feel helpless and vulnerable during your apartment search, tired of hoofing it from place to place, and being let down almost every time. On top of that, I was skeptical of my realtor, Angel, a 50-ish Asian woman who drives a Jaguar, when she first showed me the apartment I inevitably took.

Not unlike a character out of a real estate cartoon, Angel met me in front of a building she owns just down the street from the apartment she was renting me. She made it immediately clear how much of an over-sharer she is. “I rent my two-bedroom apartments for $2,000! You will get a good deal here!,” she squealed, before double-speaking. “I represent YOU! This is not my building, I work for the landlord!”

It was hard to know what was true and what was her poor attempt at salesmanship, or, even worse, if she was being dishonest. But, after seeing a few other places, I went ahead with it anyway. I needed a place, and my roommate, Will, had a strict deadline to get out of his place that was approaching in a matter of days. Angel was the only realtor showing us a decent amount of space at a reasonable price.  read more »

On a recent chilly night, I was bundled up and on my way to Boerum Hill to have dinner at a friend's apartment. As I walked down Washington Avenue the B45 bus pulled up next to me, and I hesitated. “Which would be faster, the train or the bus?” I thought. Before I could make a decision, the bus doors had shuttered. Luckily, the light at Atlantic and Washington was still red and I approached the bus and knocked on the door. The driver, a middle-aged African-American man, refused to open the door, gesturing to the next stop, three street crossings away, even though his bus was still idling perfectly in front of a designated stop. It was 15 degrees outside and I'll admit it, I felt like the driver was sticking it to me for being white.  read more »

As I briefly mentioned last week, amenities and good location are hard to come by, especially at the same time and at a decent price. While looking at an apartment three (very long) blocks off the Dekalb L stop, I noticed little signs of revival in the outstretches of Bushwick—the facade of a tenement building repaired, construction workers milling about in paint-splattered overalls with ladders. A sign that the tidal wave of Williamsburgian revival will soon fall upon it. However, thus far, it hasn't.

The apartment cost $1,600 a month, though the realtor—a kind Hasidic man who immediately explained his inability to shake my hand before offering his to my boyfriend—offered it for $1,550 when I winced at the price. Workers were coming and going over paper that had been set down on the floor to protect newly stained wood floors. Though it was on the first floor, everything was brand-new: kitchen cabinets, walls, moldings, doors, bathroom fixtures. It was clear that the landlord had put money into the place, but I could not justify spending even the discounted $750 per month on a (beautiful) room in Bushwick that I did not feel safe in.  read more »

Editor's Note: The Real Estate presents Brooklyn, The Borough, a weekly column by Observer staffer and native Manhattanite Nicole Brydson about her return to Brooklyn after nearly a year in Hell's Kitchen.

For three years I lived in Greenpoint, the northern Polish colony of Brooklyn. Though I wasn't part of the first wave of gentrification, the wheels of which were long turning--fast--my indigenous neighbors didn't necessarily seem thrilled with the influx of youthful college graduates. But, over the time I spent living there, the process completed itself. Greenpoint, close to Williamsburg and now home to hip bars, natural markets, galleries, brunch spots, fashion-forward boutiques and even a book store, became the convenient and affordable choix de la jeunesse.  read more »