Brooklyn Brownstones Stay All in the Family
This morning The Observer reports on how many kids who grew up in houses in the Brownstone Belt are, as adults, moving back in with mom and dad. The trend is seen as having a lot to do with brownstone neighborhoods now being hip and yet frequently unaffordable for recent grads who might otherwise make…

This morning The Observer reports on how many kids who grew up in houses in the Brownstone Belt are, as adults, moving back in with mom and dad. The trend is seen as having a lot to do with brownstone neighborhoods now being hip and yet frequently unaffordable for recent grads who might otherwise make a go of it alone:
All the graduates interviewed for this story agreed that living on your own in New York City was possible, especially if you had a well-paying corporate job. But for those who hope to someday own property in the areas where they grew up, or to make a career in a less lucrative field, living with your parents makes a certain kind of sense; you can’t afford not to.
The bigger question, maybe, is how much more prevalent this phenomenon is in brownstone areas (which often have bigger houses than in other parts of the city) than it is in other NYC neighborhoods or even the U.S. as a whole. Could this just be part of a larger cultural shift in which more kids are coming back home post-college, or is it indeed more common in brownstone Brooklyn?
Full Brownstone Nests) [NY Observer]
Photo from Orchard Lake.
9:23 STOP PROJECTING. You obviously heard that term used a lot growing up. That’s sad and scary and a big part of this topic — parents and kids having f-d up relationships. Anyway, the term loser means nothing; go see a shrink, get over it, and most importantly, don’t be so hard on yourself. No amount of money or so-called independence will make you feel better about yourself. You gotta start from within and accept who you are, as you are.
New York did not invent multiple generations living together. This happens everywhere and has for a very long time. Every group does it and has for generations everywhere. I would hazard a guess and say lLeaving home right away is less the norm.
People, there is more than one successful model for living a fulfilling, productive life, and for relating to one’s family. Stop the nasty judgments.
6.55 – if he’s living with he’s parents he’s a loser no matter if he’s saving up
11:10, pardon the inadequate phrase, but YOU ROCK.
I moved in with my parents when I moved home to NYC to go to graduate school. Upon graduation I got a job outside of NYC and promptly moved out to start my life as a “grown-up”. Six years later I returned, older and wiser and promtly moved back home. Not because I couldn’t afford a place on my own, I certainly could have, even without a roomate. But by the time I returned my mother had died and my then 80-year old father was living alone.
He didn’t need care, was still ambulatory and would walk to the train everyday to ride downtown for breakfast and then go do volunteer work. But my being there meant I didn’t have to worry that he was okay. I paid the mortgage and the utilities so he could keep his SS for things he liked, and in exchange I got to know my father as an adult. It was an experience I wouldn’t have traded for the world.
I say living OFF your parents is low. I’m talking 4 story brownstone, great living space.
Prince Andrew is still at Buckingham palace. Eat me.
I never got laid when I lived in Alphabet City. Granted it was a six floor walkup and by the time we were upstairs, after a long night drinking and smoking, we had just enough energy to, say, pass out — hopefully not impaling ourselves (not on each other) in the process, considering the rather tight quarters I lived in.
Now that i’ve got a floor of the brownstone I share with the family, in what’s apparently an irresistibly sexy part of the city, I need a stick to keep the boys away. Of course it’s not me– the very thought of me, a daughter of parents living in the very same structure — makes these boys run for my gorgeous marvin windows and hurl. However, they seem to all have this insanely disciplined willpower whereby they just focus on the crown mouldings, golden sunset light oozing over my wide plank floors, and the scent of a freshly lit fire crackling in the distant fireplace (the spaces are HUGE), and all of a sudden. . . . . the sixty seventh date is in progress.
Of course, it could also be the presence of one of the other women in our household, my brother’s girlfriend, that brings them here like moths to flame; she’s drop dead gorgeous and smarter than your average MIT physics prof. So maybe they’re just using me to get to her . . . . ? Or am I just using them to distract their minds from that horrific realization that . . .
I LIVE WITH MY PARENTS!!!!!?????!?!?!???
“I would NEVER go on a second date with someone if they told me they lived with their parents.”
Even if his parents owned a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights or Park Slope? And he was living there because he’s trying to save money to BUY not rent?
Don’t think so, honey. You’d SO be there. And if not, your loss.