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How Mino Lora, Co-Founder of the People’s Theatre, Spends Her Sundays

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How Mino Lora, Co-Founder of the People’s Theatre, Spends Her Sundays

As the co-founder and executive artistic director of the People’s Theatre, Mino Lora sets the stage to spotlight the voices of the immigrant communities in Upper Manhattan.

She started the People’s Theatre to serve Washington Heights and Inwood 16 years ago, but her interest in community building and social justice can be traced to her childhood in the Dominican Republic.

“I always thought I would be a teacher, and that’s what I was studying in college,” said Ms. Lora, 44, who was born and raised in the capital city of Santo Domingo. “But after I attended the International Theatre Festival of Santo Domingo 1999, I dropped out of school.”

She received a scholarship to study theater in Purchase, N.Y., at Manhattanville College (which recently changed its name to Manhattanville University). After graduating, she moved to New York City and found her footing as a director. She later co-founded the People’s Theatre with Bob Braswell, her roommate-turned-husband.

“For me, the creative process is the most interesting part,” she said.

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In 2026, the theater will get its first permanent home: a $40 million multidisciplinary performing arts center at Miramar, a new mixed-income residential building in Inwood.

“I dreamed of this for 10 years,” Ms. Lora said, adding that she saw the center as a model for similar spaces around the country.

Ms. Lora lives in an apartment in the Spuyten Duyvil neighborhood of the Bronx with Mr. Braswell, 42, who is the theater’s managing director, and their children, Emma Lucia, 11, and Marcos, 8.

FEEDING THE EARLY RISERS I try to sleep in, so I don’t get up until 8:30. But Emma Lucia and Marcos generally are up by 7 and are starving, so we have our first breakfast of the day. I make myself a cup of coffee and then make them eggs and cheese or waffles; they’re frozen. Emma has just gotten old enough to help me.

We have our second breakfast around 10 a.m. at the Johnson, which is the closest diner to our apartment. The kids like it — Marcos, a proud Bronx kid, loves the Bronx-themed décor. They usually get waffles or pancakes. I always eat the same thing: an egg-white Greek omelet with extra crispy home fries in hot sauce, multigrain toast and an oat latte.

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DANCING FOR JOY Some Sundays, I run in the gym in our apartment building, but on others, I drive Emma Lucia to Alvin Ailey in Midtown Manhattan for dance class, which starts at noon. I used to drop her off and wait for her, but when I realized there were also classes for adults, I signed up. I had been doing West African dance, but I just started the contemporary class. I’ve always liked to dance and danced a lot when I was in college, but then I got too busy and stopped. I love to keep moving because it’s a way of harnessing my own personal joy.

PIZZA BREAK By 1:30, we’re pretty hungry, so we go to lunch in Midtown. We don’t have any particular place. We always look for new spots. Often, we have pizza — white pieces with broccoli.

THE PLAY’S THE THING When we’re prepping plays for production, I generally skip lunch and have business meetings. Right now, we’re working on “Domino Effect” by Marco Antonio Rodriguez, which takes place during an evening in Washington Heights, where a game of dominoes becomes a bridge between generations, touching on themes of identity, resilience and connection. It runs from April 4 to April 20, so I’m meeting regularly with Rodriguez, the creative producer, Jiawen Hu, and the assistant director, Catalina Beltran.

PUTTING ON MY HARD HAT Afterward, I take the subway up to Inwood to the construction site of the People’s Theatre: Centro Cultural Inmigrante. I generally go there two to three times a month with Allison Robin, principal and co-owner of Envoie Projects, our owners’ reps for the project. Three of the theater’s board members, Cindy Caplan, Zahira Perez and Mel Wuong, who are all immigrant women, join me. The elevator just went in, and the shell will be done in February, and then we’ll get to go in and make it look like a real theater.

TIME FOR CHARADES Then I head home for the night. I love to cook, so I start prepping dinner as well as the meals for the week while my husband cooks pasta for the kids’ lunchboxes. After dinner, we play board games. Our current favorites are Ticket to Ride, the card game Uno and Rummikub. We also play charades, which I have been doing since I was growing up.

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Emma Lucia and Marcos are theater kids. They go to public schools, and they’ve both been in class plays. Emma Lucia’s in the People’s Theatre Academy, and she told me she wants to sing and dance on Broadway. I am thrilled that she wants a career in the arts; she’s talented and so joyful when she performs that it makes my heart swell. Marcos, however, has said he wants to be an inventor and recently informed me that theater is merely his hobby.

GETTING THE KIDS SETTLED Around 8 or 8:15, Bob and I start getting the kids ready for bed. We used to read to them, but they are too old for that now, which I find kind of sad. They’re bilingual, so they read books in English and in Spanish. I’m proud of that, even though it makes it harder for them, but it’s important to me and my Dominican culture.

A GLASS OF WINE AND A BOOK BEFORE BED Once the kids are in bed, which is around 8:30 p.m., Bob and I watch TV to wind down. I particularly like “The Great British Baking Show” on Netflix. Then I read in bed.

Right now, I have several library books, including “A Caribbean Heiress in Paris” by Adriana Herrera, which I’m reading in English, and “El Principio del Corazón” by Helen Hoang, which I got in Spanish.

This also is a time for Bob and me to talk about the logistics of the upcoming week. I have to balance producing and directing with raising a family, so we decide who’s picking the kids up from school and taking them to soccer practice. I end the night with a glass of rosé or white wine or even a vodka tonic, a favorite of my dad’s. He was an artist and painter, and a lot of what I am comes from him. He passed away last year at age 86, so drinking it is a way to honor him.

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Essential New York City Movies Picked by Ira Sachs and Blondie’s Debbie Harry and Chris Stein

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Essential New York City Movies Picked by Ira Sachs and Blondie’s Debbie Harry and Chris Stein

Film

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Leo McCarey’s “Make Way for Tomorrow” (1937). The Criterion Collection

‘Make Way for Tomorrow’ (1937), directed by Leo McCarey

The log line: After the bank forecloses on their home, an elderly couple must separate, each living with a different one of their adult children. 

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The pitch: “It’s a film that Orson Welles famously said ‘would make a stone cry,’” says Sachs, 60, about McCarey’s movie, singling out a long sequence at the end that depicts “a date through certain lobbies and bars of New York City that offers a snapshot of Midtown in the ’30s.” 

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Tippy Walker (left) and Merrie Spaeth in George Roy Hill’s “The World of Henry Orient” (1964). United Artists/Photofest

‘The World of Henry Orient’ (1964), directed by George Roy Hill

The log line: A wily 14-year-old girl and her best friend follow a ridiculous concert pianist, on whom they have a crush, around the city.

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The pitch: Hill’s 1960s romp inspired Sachs’s film “Little Men” (2016), which is about boys around the same age as these protagonists. “It’s an extraordinarily sweet film that also seems, to me, very honest,” he says. 

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Rip Torn (left) in Milton Moses Ginsberg’s “Coming Apart” (1969). Courtesy of the Everett Collection

‘Coming Apart’ (1969), directed by Milton Moses Ginsberg

The log line: Rip Torn plays an obsessive psychiatrist who secretly films all the women passing through his home office, inadvertently capturing his own mental breakdown. 

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The pitch: Shot in one room with a fixed camera, Ginsberg’s film “really feels of a time,” says Sachs. It’s also “very sexual and very free,” reminding him of what’s possible when it comes to making movies. 

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Don Murray and Diahn Williams in Ivan Nagy’s “Deadly Hero” (1975). Courtesy of the Everett Collection

‘Deadly Hero’ (1975), directed by Ivan Nagy

The log line: A disturbed, racist cop saves a cellist from a crook, only to become her tormentor. 

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The pitch: Harry, 80, and Stein, 76, were extras in Nagy’s film, which stars Don Murray, Diahn Williams and James Earl Jones as the cop, the cellist and the crook, respectively. The pair call the movie “[expletive] weird,” but also say that their day rate — $300 — “was the most money we’d ever made on anything” up to that point.

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Chantal Akerman’s “News From Home” (1976). Collections Cinematek © Fondation Chantal Akerman

‘News From Home’ (1976), directed by Chantal Akerman

The log line: An experimental documentary by Akerman, a Belgian filmmaker who moved to New York in her early 20s, the film features long takes of the city and voice-over in which the director reads letters from her mother. 

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The pitch: “I’m intrigued by how beauty contains sadness in the city,” says Sachs. Not only is her film a “beautiful record of the city” but it captures “what it is to be alone here, to have left some sort of community and, in particular for Chantal, separated from her mother.”

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Michael Wadleigh’s “Wolfen” (1981). Orion/Courtesy of the Everett Collection

‘Wolfen’ (1981), directed by Michael Wadleigh

The log line: Albert Finney stars as a former N.Y.P.D. detective who returns to the job to solve a violent and bizarre string of murders. 

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The pitch: Wadleigh’s film is not only a vehicle for Finney, says Stein, it also “has a lot of footage from the South Bronx when it was still completely destroyed” by widespread arson in the 1970s.

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Seret Scott in Kathleen Collins’s “Losing Ground” (1982).

‘Losing Ground’ (1982), directed by Kathleen Collins

The log line: Collins’s film — the first feature-length drama for a major studio directed by an African American woman — observes a rocky relationship between a college professor and her painter husband.

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The pitch: Sachs calls “Losing Ground” “a revelation.” The characters are “so human and fascinating and extremely modern,” he says, adding that he loves a movie that “exists in some very complete version of the local.”

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Griffin Dunne in Martin Scorsese’s “After Hours” (1985). Mary Evans/Ronald Grant/Everett Collection

‘After Hours’ (1985), directed by Martin Scorsese

The log line: In Scorsese’s black comedy, an office worker (Griffin Dunne) has a surreal and bizarre evening of misadventure while trying to get back uptown from a woman’s apartment in SoHo. 

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The pitch: Harry and Stein recommend this zany tale and borderline “nightmare” for the way it captures a bygone era of New York. “It’s this great image of [Lower Manhattan] when it was still raw, you know, Wild West territory,” Stein says. 

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A scene from Edo Bertoglio’s “Downtown 81” (1980-81/2000). Courtesy of Metrograph Pictures

‘Downtown 81’ (shot in 1980-81, released in 2000), directed by Edo Bertoglio

The log line: Bertoglio’s film is a striking portrait of a young artist who needs to raise money so he can return to the apartment from which he’s been evicted. 

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The pitch: Jean-Michel Basquiat stars as the artist in this snapshot of life in New York during the ’80s. Despite all the drama surrounding it — postproduction wasn’t completed until 20 years after filming, and for many years the movie was considered lost — the film is notable, says Stein, because “it’s got all the characters and all our buddies in it.”

These interviews have been edited and condensed.

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13 Actors You Should Never Miss on the New York Stage

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13 Actors You Should Never Miss on the New York Stage

Theater

Quincy Tyler Bernstine

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

A master of active stillness, the 52-year-old Bernstine (imposing in the 2024 revival of John Patrick Shanley’s “Doubt,” above) has that great actorly gift of making thought visible. A natural leader onstage, she compels audiences to follow her.

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Victoria Clark

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

One of the theater’s best singing actors, with Tonys for Adam Guettel and Craig Lucas’s “The Light in the Piazza” (2005) and David Lindsay-Abaire and Jeanine Tesori’s “Kimberly Akimbo” (above, 2022), Clark, 66, performs not on top of the notes but through them, delivering complicated characterization and gorgeous sound in each breath.

Susannah Flood

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

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Flood, 43, is a true expert at confusion, a good thing because she often plays characters like the twisted-in-knots Lizzie in Bess Wohl’s “Liberation” (above, 2025). What makes that confusion thrilling is how she grounds it not in a lack of information or purpose but, just like real life, in an excess of both.

Jonathan Groff

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

The rare musical theater man with the unstoppable drive of a diva, Groff, 41, sweats charisma, as audience members in ringside seats at Warren Leight and Isaac Oliver’s Broadway musical “Just in Time” (above, 2025) recently discovered. Giving you everything, he makes you want more.

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William Jackson Harper

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

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Unmoored characters are often unsympathetic. But whether playing a confused doctor in the 2024 revival of Anton Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” or a delusional bookstore clerk in Eboni Booth’s “Primary Trust” (above, 2023), Harper, 46, makes vulnerability look easy, and hurt hard.

Joshua Henry

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

There are singers who blow the roof off theaters, but the 41-year-old Henry’s voice is so huge and deeply connected to universal feelings that he seems to be singing inside you. Currently starring in the Broadway revival of “Ragtime” (above, by Lynn Ahrens, Stephen Flaherty and Terrence McNally), he blows the roof off your head.

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Mia Katigbak

Superb and acidic in almost any role — in distress (Annie Baker’s 2023 “Infinite Life,” above) or in command (2024’s “Uncle Vanya”) — Katigbak, 71, finds the sweet spot in even the sourest truths of the human condition.

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Judy Kuhn

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

With detailed intelligence and specific intention informing everything she sings, Kuhn, 67, is (among other things) a Stephen Sondheim specialist — her take on Fosca in “Passion” (above, 2012) was almost literally wrenching. It requires intellectual stamina to keep up with the master word for word.

Laurie Metcalf

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

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The fierce, sharp persona you may know from her years on “Roseanne” (1988-97) is about a tenth of the blistering commitment Metcalf, 70, offers onstage in works like Samuel D. Hunter’s “Little Bear Ridge Road” (above, 2025). She goes there, no matter the destination.

Deirdre O’Connell

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

For 40 years an Off Broadway treasure, O’Connell, 72, handles the most daring, out-there material — including, recently, a 12-minute monologue of cataclysmic gibberish in Caryl Churchill’s “Kill” (above, 2025) — as if it were as ordinary as barroom gossip.

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Conrad Ricamora

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

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Revealing the Buddy Holly in Benigno Aquino Jr. (in the 2023 Broadway production of David Byrne and Fatboy Slim’s “Here Lies Love”) or the queer wolf in Abraham Lincoln (in Cole Escola’s “Oh, Mary!,” above, last year), Ricamora, 47, is uniquely capable of great dignity and great silliness — and, wonderfully, both together.

Andrew Scott

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

It’s a tough competition, but Scott, 49, may have the thinnest skin of any actor. Whether he’s onstage (playing all the characters in Simon Stephens’s Off Broadway “Vanya,” above, in 2025) or on film, every emotion — especially rue — reads right through his translucence.

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Michael Patrick Thornton

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

Some actors are hedgehogs, projecting one idea blazingly. Thornton, 47, is a fox, carefully hoarding ideas and motivations. Keeping you guessing as Jessica Chastain’s benefactor in the 2023 revival of Henrik Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House” or as a pathetic lackey in last year’s production of Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” (above, center), he holds you in his thrall.

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How a Geologist Lives on $200,000 in Bushwick, Brooklyn

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How a Geologist Lives on 0,000 in Bushwick, Brooklyn

How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.

We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?

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Here’s one way to make New York more affordable: triple your income. After moving from Baton Rouge, La., in 2016 to attend graduate school, Daniel Babin lived mostly on red beans and rice or homemade “slop pots,” renting rooms in what he called a “cult house” and a building on a block his girlfriend was afraid to visit.

Then, in January, he got a job as a geologist with a mineral exploration company, with a salary of $200,000, plus a $15,000 signing bonus. A new city suddenly opened up to him. “I can take a woman out on a $300 dinner date and not look at the check and not feel bad about it,” he said. He also now has health insurance.

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Mr. Babin, 32, a marine geologist who also leads an acoustic string band, now navigates two economic worlds, one shaped to his postdoctoral income of $70,000 a year — when his idea of a date was a walk in Central Park — and the other reflecting his new income. In this world, he is shopping for a vintage Martin Dreadnought guitar, for which he will gladly drop $4,000.

Finding a New Base Line

On a recent morning at Mr. Babin’s home in Bushwick, Brooklyn, where he shares a 6,800-square-foot cohousing space with 17 roommates, he was still figuring out how to manage this split.

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Daniel Babin lives in a cohousing space modeled on the ethos of Burning Man, the annual arts festival in Nevada.

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“I’m feeling less inclined to just let it rip than I was a few months ago,” he said of his spending habits. He socks away $1,500 from each paycheck, and has not moved to replace his 2003 Toyota Corolla, an “absolute dump” given to him by his father. “Hopefully, I’m returning a little bit to some kind of base-line lifestyle that I’ve established for myself over the last five years,” he continued. “Because the fear is lifestyle inflation. You don’t want to just make more money to spend more money. That’s not the point, right?”

Lightning Lofts, the cohousing space where Mr. Babin has lived since January 2024, bills itself as part of a “social wellness movement” and seeks to continue the ethos of Burning Man, the annual communal art and cultural festival in the Nevada desert.

For a room with an elevated loft bed and use of common areas, Mr. Babin pays $1,400 a month in rent, plus another $250 for utilities and weekly housecleaning.

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He was first drawn to the organization through its events, including open mic “salons” where he played music or read from his science fiction writings. These were free or very cheap nights out, unpredictable and fascinating.

“You would see dance and tonal singing, and some dude wrote an algorithm that can auto-generate A.I. video based on what you’re saying — beautiful storytelling,” he said.

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“So I just showed up every month, basically, until they let me live here.”

The room was a good deal. He had looked at a nearby building where the rent was $1,900 for a room in a basement apartment that flooded once a month. “Ridiculous,” he said.

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But beyond its financial appeal, Mr. Babin liked the loft’s social life. “I used to be chronically lonely, and I just don’t feel lonely anymore,” he said. “Which is fantastic in a crazy place like New York. It’s so alive and it’s so isolating at the same time.”

Splurging on Ski Trips

Before Mr. Babin got his new job, he used to go to restaurants with friends and not eat, trying to save up $35 for a “burner” party — in the spirit of Burning Man — or Ecstatic Dance, a recurring substance-free dance party. He loved to ski but could not afford a hotel, so he would carry his old skis and beat-up boots to southern Vermont and back on the same day.

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“Going on a hike is a pretty cheap hobby,” he said, recalling his money-saving measures. “Living without health insurance is a good one.”

He still appreciates a good hike, he said. But on a recent ski trip, he splurged on new $700 boots and another $300 worth of gear. “I’m like, this is something I’ve wanted for 10 years, so I deserve it,” he said.

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He bought a $600 drone to take pictures for his social media accounts, and then promptly crashed it into the Caribbean (he’s now replacing the rotors in hopes of returning it to health).

He cut out the red beans and rice, he said, but his usual meal is still a modest $13 sandwich from the nearby bodega or $10 for pizza. “If I’m getting takeout and it’s less than $17, I don’t feel too bad about it,” he said.

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A Future After Cohousing

A big change is that dating is much more comfortable now, and he feels more attractive as a marriage prospect. “It turns out that a lot more people pay attention to you if you offer them dinner instead of a walk in the park,” he said.

He is now thinking of leaving the cohousing space — not just because he can afford to, but because his work has kept him from joining house events, like the regular potluck dinners. “I sometimes feel like a bad roommate, because part of being here is participating,” he said. “I feel like there might be someone who would enjoy the community aspect more than I’m capable of contributing right now.”

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He sounds almost wistful in discussing his former economizing. If it weren’t for the dating issue, he said, he would not need the higher income or lifestyle upgrades. “I never really felt like I was compromising on what I wanted to do,” he said.

He paused. “It’s just that what I was comfortable with has changed a little bit.”

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We are talking to New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save.

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