My work-from-home study in Brooklyn. My desk is a hand-me-down from Tad’s family. The Herman Miller chest of drawers was one of the first vintage pieces I purchased. The Wishbone chair is heading to Ojai!
Tad is a writer. I’m a recovered writer who has relapsed with this Substack and, more recently, a couple of new book projects (you may know me as an entrepreneur, but I’ve actually written 7 books—my side gig!), which I’ll fill you in on soon.
I’m telling you this because we’ve always worked at least partially from home. When I met Tad, his apartment living and dining area was, in essence, an extension of his desk (and his desk was a door and two sawhorses). His dining table was covered with books and his sofas covered with drafts and magazines. There were books in his oven. Nothing says marriage material like that!
Tad’s Brooklyn workspace before it was transformed into our daughter’s room (photo by James Ransom). For now, he works on an armchair with his office-mate Fiver.
He had an office at The New Yorker for 15 years. Then, in a process mirroring the downward spiral of the magazine business, his office became a shared office, then a cubby, and then, during COVID, no office. So he now works at home full-time.
For the time being, I do, too. Merrill and I started Food52 at my kitchen table and kept that as our office for a couple of years before we graduated to actual offices. But since I left the company this summer, I’ve been working from home. It’s different from the WFH I did in 2020. Now, without the claustrophobia and existential uncertainties of a global pandemic, it’s become a joy for an introvert like me. I don’t have to talk to anyone unless I want to, I can walk Fiver around the block at lunchtime, and the coffee is always just as I want it.
Playing around with floor plans for our Ojai work spaces: mine is above, Tad’s is below.
In Brooklyn, Tad and I aren’t able to each have our own work space. Currently, I have a small study just off the kitchen, and Tad works in an armchair in our living room surrounded by a penumbra of papers and books (a creature of comfort to the core). The two areas are on opposite ends of the apartment, which Tad doesn’t mind because he likes quiet when he’s thinking, and he says I’m always piping up with logistical questions. It also means that we often yell questions down the hall. When one of us gets tired of the “Huh?” and “What was that?!,” we resort to texting.
Ojai is our chance to get our home studies molded to our liking. I wrote previously about my Food52 offices and what details I value. Now we’re putting that to the test with an actual design. ...
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