A few hours before that night’s performance, Mr. Groff grabbed his wallet and keys, put on a John Varvatos motorcycle jacket (“They dress me for things and occasionally give me stuff,” he said) and headed out into the balmy spring weather in search of things to fill up the space in the apartment.
“I want something to put on the wall,” he said. “Something big. And I want a leather chair. I have no idea what kind of leather chair. I don’t know why. I just like leather.” So he headed north to Mantiques Modern, a store on West 22nd Street that is chock-full of knickknacks and assorted collectibles, as well as furniture. There, he examined the vintage clocks and old Vuitton trunks as a photographer popped shots and people tried to look away.
“I love looking at stuff while you’re writing stuff down and he’s taking pictures,” Mr. Groff said, picking up a skull-shaped objet that was made of chrome. “Just like pretend the camera’s not here!”
He went to a basement filled with more things, encountering a tête-à-tête-like sofa for which he had no use and a tan-colored bench that could never fit in his apartment. “It’s too big, it’s too wide, it won’t fit,” Mr. Groff said, riffing on a line from “Ego,” a Beyoncé song that he knows almost word for word. // The New York Times