It dawned on me a while ago that idea of the perfect home has been shaped by the films of my adolescence. I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world to have been diagnosed with the condition known as “Eighties New York Comedy Apartment Envy”. Just think of the amazingness of the abodes in the following and I you’ll understand: Big. When Harry Met Sally. Hannah and Her Sisters. Three Men and a Baby.
Especially Three Men and a Baby.
These are the apartments that have forever haunted my dreams (not that I fantasise about living with Steve Guttenberg, but you get the idea) and shaped my expectations about what a home should be. They are the very pinacle of apartmentology.
And then this appears in the New York Times and messes it all up: Natalya and Eugene Kashper’s minimalist SoHo loft.
Look at it.
Just look at it there.
Is this, or is this not, the most amazing apartment you have ever seen? I need to live there. And if I can’t find a way to finagle my way into the Kashpers’ lives, then the next best option is for this to appear in a New York comedy of some sort. And not the Matthew McConaughey sort, I mean a quality comedy. Something with Tom Hanks or an on-form John Cusack in it, falling in love with Catherine Keener whilst trying to deal with a career or child or mystical enchantment or something.
Maybe I should give my old friend Rob Reiner a call. He hasn’t done anything worth watching for a long time, and I’m sure he must have lots of romantic comedy energy just bubbling up inside him waiting for the right location.
(Via proper diction.)