The Voyeur

Confession: One of my favorite things to do in New York is to look in people's windows. I'm not a freak; I just like to glance into other peoples lives. I look into their living room windows and imagine what their life is like. Do they use warm, neutral tones with tall filled bookshelves highlighting their space? Or maybe a classic ecru on the walls and a chandelier for light? And what does their decor say about their lifestyle?

Those few people who have been in my living room probably thought I just moved in. Not that it doesn't look lived in, per se (my ass print is firmly etched into the couch after all), its just kind of bare. I have a couch, TV, two bookshelves and a coffee table and that's about all. I fantasize about raiding West Elm one day armed with someone else's credit card, but in the meantime, I have what I need and it suits me. There's a lot of green and deep wood tones that I find relaxing.

My favorite windows, though, have been in the Village and Brooklyn Heights. Similar aesthetics, for the most part - clean lines, modern, yet livable - and everything I want. I fall in love via home decor. And, of course, I imagine the couples who live in them never fight, they have cool jobs and plenty of free time to read New York magazine and sip skim lattes. They have Bugaboo strollers for their adorable child and would never dream of putting a sweater on their cocker spaniel. They have been to Buenos Aires to sky dive and enjoy cooking in their stainless steel kitchen. They recycle responsibly, don't have to worry about paying off their student loans and have interesting hobbies like playing bass in a jazz band. And did I mention I want to be them?

I had one such make-believe life via window when I lived in Hoboken. I loved to look in the living room of an apartment on Hudson and 6th Street that had tall windows and packed bookshelves on display. I made a point to look inside everytime I passed. It was beautiful and I imagined I'd move there someday after I got married. I'd look up from my laptop where I was writing my latest award-winning novel and call to my husband from our overstuffed taupe sofa to bring me some ice cream (because I was pregnant and that's what pregnant pretend me wants to eat). And it was magical. That fantasy got me through some rough times. I think I need to go for a walk and a new one.