Moving In

Things to hoard.

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If I’m writing about something I cannot eat or drink, you better freaking take note. So once upon a time it was Sunday and I found this store called BEAM in Brooklyn, and the owner poured me a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio (it was out for all guests) and I never wanted to leave. Ever.

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Not only is every piece in this store straight up epic, but the environment was very welcoming. Something in the air perhaps. Just kidding (I think). Exhibit A: I was able to freely peruse for an hour, only purchasing a $20 calendar (it was reaaally cool), and life was Gucci. The day I get married, I will not be registering to Bed, Bath & Beyond or Williams Sonoma. Please just buy out BEAM for me and we’ll call it a day. (I would be cool with Barney’s too.) Cool? Cool. They even had a pillow that said “Merde,” which everyone knows is practically my middle name. Except not.

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All that TOILETPAPER stuff. I dig. I need it all. SOS.



Wait—just look at those coral and cream silicone place mats. And everything else.

BEAM, 240 Kent Avenue Ste 18


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