Tuesday was family dinner at WeLive Wall Street: vegetarian meatballs and grilled chicken, black truffle gravy and green peas. Thursday was a "craft jam" — terra cotta pot painting amplified by rosé and salty snacks — at Node in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn. A few weeks earlier, I had made a terrarium at Jersey City Urby — bromeliads, plastic critters and rum punch, with the Marshall Tucker Band on the Sonos — and joined a bar crawl through the Lower East Side with a group from Quarters, open since mid-June on Grand Street. I slept in an adorable plywood cubby on Wall Street and on the 68th floor of the tallest residential building in Jersey City, in a flashy model apartment from which you could see all the way up the Hudson River to the George Washington Bridge, a view so vertiginous I dropped to my knees and crawled into bed on my elbows, special-ops-style. (Happily, at such a height, there were no neighbors to see me do so.) These were some of my adventures in co-living, a housing model that draws inspiration from the single-gender residence hotels of the early 20th century and postwar intentional communities, along with… Read full this story
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In the ’90s, We Had ‘Friends.’ Now They Call It Co-Living. have 279 words, post on www.nytimes.com at August 23, 2017. This is cached page on wBird. If you want remove this page, please contact us.