Brooklyn Treehouse Is Basically the Shit
While we are somewhat irritated with the title of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith's classic and wonderful coming-of-age novel, being co-opted for anything imaginable related to Brooklyn, we have to say that Alexandra Meyn's Brooklyn treehouse, which appears in the New York Times with the of-course-they-did headline "A Treehouse Grows in Brooklyn," is pretty awesome, and Smith herself might have enjoyed it. We would go there, and drink some wine, and dish, if she were to invite us, in a hot minute. We would even bring the wine.
Meyn explains to the Times, "People's eyes light up when you tell them you have a treehouse." Did you watch Modern Family last week? Treehouses outside of New York City are awesome and bring people together. Treehouses inside the city, in Bed-Stuy, to be exact, with pink wallpaper and a record player and large mugs of tea or coffee and pillows and rocking chairs and an overall air of adorable coziness, secured to, adorably, an old mulberry tree, are the ultimate in awesome. And bringing people into fits of jealousy.
Meyn built the 40-square-foot treehouse (she lives full-time in the nearby apartment from which the treehouse gets its electricity) in her time since graduating from Pratt with a degree of interior design in May. It cost her $400. It has already made it through a tornado, an almost-hurricane, and the blizzard of last winter.
You had us at treehouse. Also, "photo gallery."
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