The Color Fix
DURING MY 20s, I lived in a 150-square-foot apartment on the Upper West Side of New York City. This place was so small, the little pullout love seat I bought wouldn’t pull out—the frame hit the other wall before fully extending. Also: I could brush my teeth on the toilet. Also: The “kitchen” was a unit consisting of a two-burner stove and sink, which I referred to as the “stink.” What helped me endure this glorified dorm room was the view of Central Park outside of it, and the color I brought into it. I painted the walls a smoky blue, and I added a green throw and an array of bright pillows to that unpulloutable couch. I’ve mentioned before that I lived in 10 apartments in my first 15 years…
