There’s a garden snake in the backyard. Kittens are tussling among the flowering plants. In the mornings, the sounds of class lectures float through the house, and at night, there is laughter and the clanging of pots and pans. Sometimes, singing can be heard from out the window, along with the birds chirping, a very Snow White-esque picture.
And then there’s the squirrel that’s ready to throw down in the front yard. And the Central Park weddings where the bride walks down the aisle to Twilight’s “A Thousand Years.” And the loud-ass train that shake the rooms like in Mary Poppins.
828 Park Street is peaceful, but never quiet. As for the house itself, but who lives there?
Grandmas.
Okay, just kidding – they’re just fourth years (but who can be “just” a fourth year?). They are: Sarina Lincoln `21, Chloe Wray `21, Elena Copell `21, Maya Kusunoki-Martin `21 and Zoe Fruchter `21.
Fruchter: “Grandmas are fun, grandmas are sassy, grandmas have incredible style.”
Lincoln: “And they’re generous.”
Fruchter: “They give great hugs, and there are some people here who go crazy.”
It’s this spirit of family that unites them, and it’s visible in the space they’ve built together. Copell has a portrait of her grandmother in her room. Lincoln keeps a family cookbook from her mother (a present for her 21st birthday). Kusunoki-Martin has her grandma’s plant sitting in a tiny armchair by the TV.
“We have the biggest tree, and the smallest TV,” said Fruchter.
When the light hits just right, five mismatched armchairs are illuminated in the living room, facing a screen that’s only slightly bigger than a laptop. Along with the Dolly Parton poster. And Kusama Yayoi poster. And the mushroom-fungi poster. (“It’s important that we have a lot of art!” said Kusunoki-Martin). Somehow, it works?
“Our rooms are quilted together,” said Wray. I couldn’t have described it any better myself. (You will not believe how many unconscious grandma references were made during the interview.)
Fruchter’s room is bathed in fairy queen light and sheer white tulle curtains, with a La Croix can on the table, while Kusunoki-Martin’s room had even more art and a table stolen from Relish. Lincoln’s features her collection of national park postcards and enormous stash of tea. Copell’s colorful fabrics draped everywhere in the room, along with the good smell that I am unable to actually name. And Wray’s room channeled cozy wooden `70s den vibes
Coppell: “Making a home in a pandemic had to be intentional. We survived together.”
Fruchter: “It was character building.
Wray: “It’s just us, and Relish, and the Brande. And Central Park feels like an extension of our front yard.”
The grandmas were able to lease the house because Wray and Kusunoki-Martin both worked at Relish, where the family dynamic was emphasized between the owners and the workers.
“They called us their daughters,” said Wray. The rest of the house was described as being in-laws who married in.
“Yeah, someone just told me I was going to be living here,” said Lincoln, “I was very removed from the discussion. And I was like, ‘Okay, great.’”
And now, their thoughts after a year of living together?
Copell: “We like to get a little messy.”
Fruchter: “We’re a little crazy, a little sexy, a little cool. There’s an edge to our vibe.”
Wray: “We’re like crocs and cowboy boots.”
Lincoln: “And Teva’s, hello?”
