tom lombardi

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The 40-Year-Old Hipster Goes to a Rave

Tom Lombardi has returned to his stomping grounds of Williamsburg after several years away.

(Illustration: James Powers)

(Illustration: James Powers)

The wife and I ride the elevator thirty-something floors up the spine of a newly constructed condo that stands, along with its glassy companions, on the waterfront on Kent Avenue. My wife’s friends’ crib is magnificent, with floor-to-ceiling windows that expose various sides: South and East Williamsburg, Greenpoint and beyond. Little people – humans below, not midgets – can be seen sipping sunset cocktails on roof decks.
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Staying at Miller’s Place in the Tropic of Condominiums

Introducing The 40-Year-Old Hipster. He’s returned to his stomping grounds of Williamsburg after several years away.

(Illustration: James Powers)

(Illustration: James Powers)

We’re subletting Henry Miller’s childhood crib in the burg, the wife and me. While I’ve read too much Miller (if you know his work, you’ll understand what that means) there’s something anti-Miller about this. For the record, we didn’t seek it out, it just happened to be the most economical.
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