When my older brother got married and moved out of his one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn Heights, I moved in. That was 2006 and I was single.
The apartment was in a brownstone--the top floor--three flights up what can be best described as a treacherous set of stairs. The building was charming, and so was the light-flooded apartment.
Although the building didn't officially have a roof deck, I had my own Tar Beach that I accessed via a trap door. I enjoyed many a summer evening up there trying not to get too close to the mini-wall that surrounded it.
Shortly after I met my future wife in 2009, she moved in with me and we stayed happily for two years. But eventually those treacherous stairs lost their charm and we wanted more space, more amenities and we were ready to buy.
We looked in Brooklyn Heights but couldn't find what we were looking for. We were craving something new and modern, with a doorman, an elevator, a gym.