Curated for you via Architectural Digest.
Globe-trotting writer and fashion-world insider Derek Blasberg conjures the perfect setting for his next chapter—a sophisticated Upper East Side apartment.
I moved from St. Louis to New York in 2000, the year I turned 18 and graduated from high school. That means that last year, 2018, was the moment I had lived here for exactly as long as I had lived there. I didn’t realize it at the time, but buying this apartment (my first real apartment!) on the Upper East Side was the ultimate inflection point in morphing from an overachieving Midwestern teenager into a New York City professional.
Consistency is the word I’d use to describe my first 18 years: I lived in the same bed-room in the same house in the same suburban neighborhood my whole life. (Boring is another word, but it’s not as polite.) By the time I left, I had wallpapered the room—including the ceiling—with intricate collages made with cutouts from fashion magazines, filled the bookshelves with biographies of old Hollywood stars and Jackie Kennedy, and scribbled “New York or bust!” on my white cotton bedsheets with a black Sharpie.
In New York, my experiences in real estate were scattered. Literally. My first-ever address was an NYU dorm room on the west side of Washington Square Park. From there I moved to a walkup in Williamsburg, Brooklyn; a hovel in SoHo; a Tribeca high-rise; and, just before I moved into this place, a charming prewar building in Chelsea that featured the ultimate metropolitan extravagance: a doorman. To each apartment I’d drag all my earthly possessions, which consisted of clothes, clothes, and more clothes, and a burgeoning collection of embroidered pillows.
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