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.
