A Few Days in New York City

Hello from Marseille,

Last week, I returned to New York. It was my third visit since we moved to Marseille, but this time was different—it was my first time back on my own.

I stayed just four days, long enough to celebrate my friend Maria’s birthday and let the city pull me back into its familiar rhythm. Being solo meant I had something I rarely do anymore: time. No plans, no schedules, no stroller to push or snacks to negotiate. Just me and the city—an old version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

I biked uptown, downtown, subwayed across bridges. I walked for hours through streets that once framed my everyday life. And, as I always do when returning to a place that once held me, I visited every building I’d ever lived in. All five of them.

It’s a ritual I carry with me in every city I’ve called home—Mexico City, New York, even small towns back in France. I don’t know why exactly I do it. But I always end up standing quietly across the street from some old doorway, half-expecting a younger version of me to step out, distracted and late…

In the West Village, I stood in front of the building (above) where I first landed in 2012—barely speaking English and working at a marketing agency in SoHo. Later, I moved to the East Village, where I was living when I started Behind the Hill. It was the smallest place I ever lived in. The fridge was so loud I nicknamed it my roommate, and I even got a couple of red flags from the superintendent for trying to grow tomatoes on the fire escape. How I loved that place.

Between 2018 and 2023, I lived in three different homes there. My children were literally born in two of them. Both did their first steps on South Portland Ave. Walking those streets again felt like stepping into a living photograph—layered with memory, old friendships and corner stores that still haven’t changed their awning.

If I had to choose one favorite neighborhood in New York, it would be Fort Greene—no contest. It’s where I lived the longest: five years, three different apartments, countless life chapters.

It’s always the first place I go when I land.

There’s something about Fort Greene. It still feels grounded, creative, and deeply rooted in culture, despite the slow gentrification. Historically a home to Black artists, musicians, and intellectuals, it remains rich with that legacy. It’s got rhythm. It’s got heart.

The brownstones are quietly magnificent. The streets are wide and lined with trees, and there’s a calm here you don’t find in many other corners of the city. Families, artists, students, and old-timers all walk the same blocks, in no particular rush. It feels like a village inside a city.

At the center of it all is Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn’s oldest—designed by the same duo behind Central Park. The Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) is nearby, a magnet for avant-garde performance, film, and music. But even without the landmarks, Fort Greene is magnetic.

Here are some of my all-time favorite spots:

For Brunch or Lunch:

• Walter’s (always lively)

• Baba Cool (delicious and laid back)

• Evelina (Italian with that perfect neighborhood feel)

For Dinner:

• Colonia Verde (a warm hug in restaurant form)

• Café Paulette (a little slice of Paris)

• Roman’s (seasonal, thoughtful, excellent)

Bookstore:

• Greenlight Bookstore – a neighborhood institution. Cozy, curated, and community-driven.

Things To Do:

• Picnic in Fort Greene Park at sunset

• Browse the Saturday Artisans’ Market (9 AM–4 PM)

• Catch a show or indie film at BAM

• Walk through Pratt Institute’s outdoor sculpture garden

• Or just… wander. Fort Greene is made for wandering.

Fun fact: In 2023, Time Out named Fort Greene the “coolest neighborhood in New York” and the 15th coolest in the world. So there’s that.

This trip was timed around my friend Maria’s birthday. And honestly, I can’t talk about New York without talking about Maria—her work, her brand Tintoreria, and the friendship that anchored so many of my NYC years.

Maria and I are kindred spirits. We were both born and raised in Europe, moved to Mexico in our early twenties, then landed in New York around 2012. We met in 2015, both slowly shifting from 9-to-5 jobs into building something of our own. Something that felt like us.

Over the years, we’ve launched pop-ups, cried over U.S. visa processes, celebrated tiny wins (and big ones), and cheered each other on again and again. Through it all, Maria has remained the same: sharp, generous, and endlessly inventive.

Her brand, Tintorería, is a New York-based studio creating elevated, functional clothing using only natural luxury-grade materials—from thread to dye. She’s not just designing garments—she’s building a new standard for how we dress and feel in our clothes. Her pieces are beautiful, effortless, and built to live in.

I just brought home a new suit—jacket and pants. Chic, flattering, and secretly comfortable (a rare trifecta). You can find her work here or follow along on Instagram @tintoreriacloset. Trust me, you’ll want to keep an eye on what she’s doing.

I left New York with a full heart and sore feet, reminded of the many lives I’ve lived in that city—and grateful I get to return now and then.

It wasn’t nostalgia, not really. I didn’t feel the urge to go back. What I felt was joy, a little melancholy, and a wave of gratitude for every version of me who’s walked these streets—and for the life I have now.

New York reminded me why I left. After more than a decade, I was tired in a way sleep couldn’t fix. I needed Marseille. I needed the infinite blue of the Mediterranean, the quiet strength of the mountains behind our house, and the softness of my native language. And I got all of that, right when I needed it most.

But what a treat, to return. To move through a city you once called home without needing a map—guided only by memory. There’s a particular kind of freedom in that, one I truly acknowledged and savored.

Thanks for reading,

-Maud

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