NYC DAY 2: SoHo and Boerum Hill

NYC Day 2: SoHo and Boerum Hill.

The scent of cedar and fig, and a pizza-fuelled pilgrimage through SoHo and Boerum Hill.

When the opportunity to work on a Brooklyn brownstone landed in our laps over two years ago, we knew it would carry a distinctly Australian sensibility (more on that soon). What we didn’t anticipate was that it would also reconnect us with the incredibly talented photographer Hayley Nedland—this time on the other side of the world.

When we reached out to Hayley to capture this milestone moment, we were beyond thrilled—and a little lucky—that she said yes.

We met at the house early that morning and wandered through each level together, pausing in sunlit corners and mapping out the moments we wanted to bring to life. From soft shadows in the stairwell to the grain of timber underfoot, every detail held weight. Hayley, with her effortless calm and intuitive eye, saw it all. There’s a kind of creative shorthand that happens when you work with someone who truly gets it. Reuniting with her—years and continents later—felt like a full-circle kind of magic.

Armed with her must-do list for the neighbourhood and buzzing from the morning’s energy, we headed out—this time, a little more subway savvy—and set our sights on SoHo.but not before a Quick stop for Coffee from Poppy’s cafe.

Cue: side-street vintage pop-ups, candid street-style moments, and our best attempt at looking unbothered while photographing everything in sight. We wandered, snapped, swooned. It was chaotic. It was chic. It was exactly the kind of inspiration hunt we live for.

Le Labo was calling—and Saraj-Jane answered. she walked out with a bottle of Noir 29, which has now officially entered its signature scent era. Cedar, fig, and a hit of designer confidence. We also ducked into Millie Savage—equal parts edgy and sparkly. Rings we didn’t plan on, but somehow needed.

Lunch came in the form of Prince Street Pizza, eaten standing and mid-conversation, with tomato sauce on our hands and smiles we couldn’t shake. And yes—Laura’s strawberry matcha may have changed the game. The whole outing? One big moodboard.

Later, we drifted back into Brooklyn and down Atlantic Avenue, soaking up the quieter beauty of Boerum Hill. At Porta Home, hand-drawn charcoal ceilings and delicate window vignettes left us quietly enchanted. Primary Essentials served up ceramics and incense we couldn’t say no to. And at Books Are Magic, we found the picture book for Sunny (Sarahs Daughter)—the one we’d talked about just the night before. Waiting on the shelf like it knew.

Finding inspiration in the unexpected.

Dinner was at Rucola—Brooklyn’s warmest little slice of Italy. Crusty bread, good olive oil, and the kind of moody light that makes you want to stay a little longer.

Feet: still sore.

Hearts: very full.

Camera rolls: unhinged.

Designers: exactly where they needed to be.

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DAY ONE: Brooklyn state of Mind

DAY ONE — BROOKLYN STATE OF MIND
Two designers, one borough, and a vintage golf hat we didn’t know we needed.

We were up before the sun—thank you, jet lag—and loitering outside Coffee on the Corner like it was the Met Gala for caffeine. Doors opened. First order of business: our inaugural taste of the infamous American drip coffee. Verdict? Dramatic. Watery. Confusing. We both ordered long blacks—because we’re purists (and a little dramatic). It was... fine. We’ll survive.

We wandered through the charming streets of Carroll Gardens, ogling brownstones like the architecture-obsessed creeps we are. The boutiques? Tiny, curated, and full of things we definitely don’t need but emotionally require.

The plan: make our way to DUMBO—part on foot, part via a mildly chaotic subway moment (iconic NYC experience unlocked). Quick refuel at Brooklyn Roasting Company, because two coffees before noon is basically self-care.

The views from Brooklyn Bridge Park were serving, and the DUMBO Flea Markets? Even more so. I scored a vintage grandpa golf hat that I’m now unironically obsessed with, and we both had a silent, spiritual moment in front of a pair of Louboutin boots that deserved their own museum.

We drifted down to the waterfront to process the architectural beauty (and our growing hat collection), then fully leaned into our tourist era with the Washington Street photo—you know, the one with the Manhattan Bridge perfectly framed like a Wes Anderson shot. We strolled the Brooklyn Bridge Park waterfront, soaking in views, pretending we lived in one of those glass penthouses, and trying not to lose our freezing noses to the cold.

Lunch? In a twist of fate, we ended up at an Australian café. We both burst out laughing when the waiter greeted us in full Aussie twang—12,000 kms away and still can’t escape ourselves.

To close the loop? We either power-walked across the Brooklyn Bridge like dramatic movie leads or flopped at Pebble Beach for some designer decompression. (You decide which version is more on-brand.) Naturally, we paused halfway to buy Yankees caps like the happy little tourists we are—zero shame.

As golden hour slid into dinner time, we made our way to Colonie Restaurant in Brooklyn. Moody lighting, seasonal plates, and cocktails that tasted like they were crafted by an off-duty alchemist. The interiors? So chic we almost asked for the paint color (but didn’t, because restraint).

Optional night moves (highly recommended):

🍸 Long Island Bar for a classic nightcap—equal parts nostalgia and perfect lighting.

Day one in the books.

Feet: ruined.

Moodboards: full.

Brooklyn: obsessed.