Say Hello to Your Neighbors

“Empty your Amazon cart, especially if it’s filled with a face wash and a deodorant and a hairbrush. Go to that cute West Village independent pharmacy Erica showed you instead, and enjoy the errand that gives you a reason to explore a different neighborhood. Empty your Amazon cart, especially if it’s filled with new sheets or towels or pillows. Touch things that are meant to be touched before they end up in your bedroom a little scratchier than you’d like. Empty your Amazon cart, especially if it’s filled with paper towels and batteries and dish soap. Walk out your door, pass two blocks, enter the bodega, and say hi to the man who has seen you drunk at 3 a.m. buying Cheez-Its, as you place these more responsible fixings of your life on the counter. Empty your Amazon cart, especially if it’s filled with a plastic balloon banner or Halloween-printed tablecloth or $9 stretchy white mini skirt for a last-minute House of Yes theme. You probably don’t need these things. These are not the kinds of details that make a memorable night. Empty your Amazon cart, and maybe try to cancel that Prime subscription altogether. Replace it with local shopping or used shopping or less shopping, whenever possible. Sometimes it will not be convenient to do so — sometimes that’s kind of the point.”

“Meet your new neighbors. The ones next door, the ones in the rest of the building, and hopefully a few throughout the block. This doesn’t need to be difficult or scary. The one with the dog upstairs is always walking by — you can just say, “Aw, your dog is so cute. I’m Jackie, by the way, I just moved in. I’m in [apt. number] if you ever need anything!” And she’ll say, “Oh, I didn’t realize someone new moved in! I’m Jane, nice to meet you.” Say hi to the others soon; it gets harder the longer you wait. Some might turn out to be like Catherine and Greg from next door at the last place — an older couple who invited you and Serena in for wine and cheese a few times a year in exchange for plant watering, who chatted with you about politics and travel and movies and work, who felt genuinely sad to see you move and told you to come back and visit. Hopefully, none turn out to be like the guy below you in the apartment before that, who launched a brick through his window in the middle of the night. Probably most will be people you simply nod at and say hello to in passing, and maybe knock on their door in some kind of pinch, which will feel much better after you’ve already introduced yourself. It seems good to know who’s literally beside you.”

“When a family is taking a photo along the walking path of the Central Park Reservoir — kids posing in front of the water, dad fiddling with his phone camera settings across the trail — stop and wait before crossing. Wait an entire minute, if that’s how long it takes for them to finally snap the shot. Wait even if no one else is waiting, and so there are already people blocking the lens anyway, and so another one wouldn’t matter. The waiting is for them, but the waiting is also for you. Drop the sense of urgency when there doesn’t need to be one. Drop the eye-roll and the sigh and the look of frustration, and also the feeling of frustration — it doesn’t belong. Offer to take a photo for them, so they have one all together. Look into their eyes when you offer. Notice their excitement to be there. When you tell them, “Smile!” you’ll smile, too.”

“Go back to the same places, the same events, the same times. When you first moved to New York City, you swore you’d never eat at the same restaurant or drink at the same bar twice. There are so many good options, you’d never have to. But that’s a visitor’s mindset, and a flawed one at that. Discovering places you love and letting yourself enjoy them again and again isn’t just about self-trust, but also about community. There’s value in slowing down, getting to know people who work at or frequent the places you like, and being able to really tell someone about the best spots in your neighborhood that aren’t just based on one meal you had and a Beli score. When you first tried to get into fitness, you obsessed over the ClassPass app and how many unique workout classes you could try. You underwater-cycled with a bunch of elderly women; you pole danced, ballet danced, danced a “Sass Class” that involved far too much floor twerking; you practiced yoga and pilates at probably ten different studios. All of that was exciting and interesting and pushed you out of your comfort zone — in the short term. It was important for discovering how you enjoy moving your body, but not great for consistency or community or supporting the local studios you like in the long term. When you discovered rock climbing, and especially the yoga class at the climbing gym, your fitness routine blended with a new social circle. You didn’t stop all other one-off classes, but you prioritized one place and showed up at the same time for class every week, with the same instructor, and eventually the class took on a community of its own, and that changed your life. You are someone who has always wanted to do it all — to travel everywhere, stay active constantly, dabble in a variety of hobbies, and cross 20-something goals off a birthday bucket list each year. But slowing down and diving deeper into something can provide new experiences, perspectives, and forms of connection in a different way. So return to what you’ve already done, where you’ve already been. Keep going back, and grow from there, instead of someplace new. Say hi to familiar faces. Savor your expertise. Know what to order. Remember to reflect.”

“I have nothing to add that wasn’t already said perfectly by @Jackie Homan in her original rec. Go read it and empty that Amazon cart!”

“If you can, buy from the source. Or find the product in person at an independent shop”

“It’s contagious”

“Totally understand the benefit of Amazon to rural folks without access to shops, or those with disabilities for whom going shopping is a far more tremendous ordeal than those of us who are able bodied. But, for the rest of us - convenience is killing us. Go to the hardware store, go to the bodega, go to the store that just sells lightbulbs. Every time I shop in a real shop for lovely things, it’s a small high. Everytime I succumb to the penis company, as we call Amazon (look at the logo, you’ll never be the same) - I feel a bit low. Go for the high.”