When you live in New York City as a twenty-something (or even thirty or forty-something) chances are your real estate options are somewhat of a gamble. I’ve heard stories of 3 roommates sharing a tiny — wait for it — studio. It’s enough to make me visibly cringe (which I definitely did when I initially heard the story and definitely did just now repeating it). But like all gambles, there’s always a chance that you will find an apartment in the West 80s that happens to belong to your aunt, and have a fantastically finished rooftop on which you can throw happy hours, parties, and wild Sunday brunches. Unfortunately it isn’t my situation, but it is my friend Giselle’s (yes, like the model, only cooler) situation — and this Sunday past she threw a fantastic brunch on her rooftop.
It’s really the epitome of a hot, summer’s Sunday afternoon. Lounging on an Upper West Side rooftop with twenty or so of the coolest kids you’ll ever meet, indulging in pancakes, eggs, bacon, croissant and a wide array of other delicious food. There were even tater tots, which delighted me to no end because, really, who’s had tater tots past the age of 12? It was an awesome throwback. And of course, mimosas, beer and Dunkin’ Donuts’ coffee wrapped up the incredible spread that Giselle and her sister provided. We’ll provide the food, they said, if you guys bring champagne? And we did — though we had to wait ‘til noon to do so. Apparently there is this law in New York that prohibits the sale of alcohol before 12:00 on Sundays. I guess it keeps the drunks sober for church (or out of it altogether).
Note: this is not Giselle — this is Jeff. Proudly showing off the premium sampling of the deliciousness that he artistically culled from Giselle’s hard work over a hot stove. I need to be better about photographing the actual host/esses — Giselle will be pictured in an upcoming post featuring the Boat Basin, so stay tuned.
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