A twinkle of Brooklyn

A water tower Donna Tartt would love

A water tower Donna Tartt would love

Sometimes you have to leave Manhattan to see what it was really like before the glitz and glamour. The Peter Pan donut shop with pink-and-turquoise-clad waitresses and Formica table tops is the real deal. On a Saturday morning, we take the L train and meet H and Brother H to consume too much in the New York equivalent of a greasy spoon, all with the added benefit of sugar. I have a chocolate eclair that’s just come out of the bakery. It’s consumed in seconds. I don’t feel too greedy.

An apartment crying out for me to live in

An apartment crying out for me to live in

Yet another contemporary flat that someone forgot to bequeath me

Yet another contemporary flat that someone forgot to bequeath me

But Brooklyn is changing. Like World War Z, hipsters crawl out of every nook and cranny. I felt odd cos I didn’t have bleached blonde hair and heavy make-up, wasn’t wearing the skinniest of jeans (not a good look on me anyway) nor taking my small spiky shrimp of a dog for a walk. The best sight was the girl with a 50s quaff and sequins skirt dolled up to the nines. It would’ve been fine save the fact she was going for a jog.

Gentrification. We all love it but when it takes over it also takes everything away. H spoke of her favourite haunts but we knew it was that frail moment, good now, Gap tomorrow.

Brooklyn1

The day was spectacular with a cold wind. We took the ferry from Greenpoint down to Dumbo. Lunch up at Brooklyn Heights made me realise what a wealthy part of town this is. Spectacular brownstones lined the streets, sturdy, serious. There were some great gardens, including the one below.

A menagerie of the fallen

A menagerie of the fallen

H mentioned that Brooklyn was its own city once. It’s as big a Manhattan though without the highrises, a completely different experience altogether.

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