This striking looking A-Frame Residence is the result of an architecture conversion delivered by New York City-based studio Bromley Caldari Architects. The designers completely renovated the interiors of a 1960s beach home on Fire Island, turning it into a sleek hideout. With a spiral staircase splitting down the middle, four dark and cramped bedrooms, a leaky roof, and a cracked pile foundation, the original building required serious interventions.
By adding a new staircase, the layout was positively transformed and functionality took over he entire abode: “On the main level, a double-height living/dining room stretches the length of the window-clad north façade. The open kitchen and house utilities run along the south side. The master bedroom suite features full-height glass sliding doors that take advantage of the view. Although the doors stay mostly open, when guests are present and privacy is required, the sliding glass doors fog up at the flick of a switch.”
“It’s our first date. We met on Fire Island. I wasn’t even planning on going out that night. I’d already drank half a bottle of Johnny Black so I was just going to stay in and read my Chelsea Handler book, but my friends promised to bake me cookies if I went to the club with them. So I went to buy three bags of cookie dough, and when I finally got to the club all my friends were making out with somebody, so I was like ‘this sucks,’ and I just started dancing by myself and eating the cookie dough. Then I saw him by the DJ booth and we made eye contact so I went over and started sharing my cookie dough. We never actually spoke. Then a few months later I ran into him on the subway.”
HONY thought it would be cute to substitute “cookie dough” for cocaine without even realizing how ridiculous that lie is. Ain’t nobody eating a bag of cookie dough out with their friends on Fire Island. A bag of warm-ass cookie dough in a gay club. What intern from Oklahoma thought that was cute? Let me tell you how that evening really went.
“It’s our first actual date with actual words. The first doesn’t count because we only swapped blowjobs
that we barely remember in the Meat Rack out on Fire Island. I wasn’t even planning on going out that night. I’d already drank half a bottle of Johnny Black so I was just going to stay in and vaguely glance at my Chelsea Handler book while waiting on a Scruff notification from someone I’d actually let come over and plow me, but my friends promised me coke if I went out with them, and not the regular kind. Good stuff. Like Wall Street coke. They text me the guy’s address to go pick it up and they’d pay me back when I got to the club, so I picked up three bags. When I finally got to the club, all my friends were making out with somebody, so I was like ‘I have all this coke to myself and I’m already drunk’ so I started dancing by myself and doing keybumps in the corner. Then I saw him by the DJ booth and we made eye contact so I went over to see if he was into blow too. We never actually spoke. A few bumps turned into blowjobs and then a few months later I saw him on Grindr here in the city and he was 250 ft away.”
March 12, 1962: Communities on Fire Island — and across the mid-Atlantic — were dealt millions of dollars of damage during the so-called Ash Wednesday Storm, which also killed dozens over the course of three days. The surging waters and high tides flooded much of New York City as well as damaging the area: “The east side of Whitehall Street from the tip of Manhattan island to Front Street was under water,” reported The Times. Photo: Ernie Sisto/The New York Times