…isn't a two-story house with a white picket fence, but an urban loft. Big ol’ factory windows letting in oodles of natural light? Green plants dotting most flat surfaces? Original hardwood floors? Not to mention all the mid-century modern furniture you can shake a stick at, plus the odd French bistro chair (or four). It's got a Scandinavian color palette (white on neutral) and the wabi sabi elegance of a retreat in the Japanese mountains, but I'll take an address in Brooklyn or the West Village. I used to think perfection was a single-family country manse, but now can’t wait until the suburbs are reclaimed for parkland I can ride to on a high-speed train fueled by Rick Santorum’s tears. God bless!