It’s been a long time since we’ve done anything fancy and grown up for New Year’s Eve. Or ever. It felt terribly indulgent to put on our fanciest clothes, to hire a babysitter, to sit a candlelit tables and have uninterrupted conversations with people we have grown to know and love over the past 7 years.
But we did it anyway. We indulged. We ate dinner at the (in)appropriately late hour of 10pm. We counted down to midnight. We blew horns and cheered as balloons and confetti dropped from the ceiling of an apartment in Carroll Gardens.
It felt like, for once, we did New Year’s Eve right.