“The number one rule for a romantic life,” says Talia Mayden, “is never to use overhead lighting.” On this particular morning, the 30-inch paper lantern suspended from Mayden’s living room ceiling happens to be on, and to underscore the point, she rises from her seat to remedy the issue. To a visitor’s eye, the light switch is nowhere to be found—that is, until a tintype photograph is plucked from a ledge near the front door to reveal a white plastic switch plate. In an instant, the lantern goes dark, ceding to flickering candles and late-morning sunlight.
Mayden’s one-bedroom apartment, nestled on the parlor floor of a Brooklyn Heights brownstone, is full of intentional gestures designed to elevate the everyday—or, at the very least, to disguise it.
With original features dating back to the turn of the 20th century, the 850-square-foot rental possessed an innate sense of old-world elegance, with a grand fireplace, dark wood detailing, towering bay windows, and private patio swathed in vines. But in Mayden’s hands, even the smallest decisions became opportunities to enhance the home’s existing character rather than erase it. For the 30-year-old commercial director—who moved from LA to New York in 2021 and stumbled on the space shortly after—decorating became a daily exercise in creating and cultivating beauty.
“I always considered myself an artist,” she says, “but as I’ve gotten older, my day-to-day life has had a lot less creativity in it than I imagined. It’s been a sort of identity crisis: Am I even an artist at all? But then I get to come home to this, a vision I’ve realized.” A component of that vision involved concealing standard-issue elements—like the plastic switchplates—commonly found in New York City rentals. Decidedly unromantic white bedroom walls were drenched in a moody burgundy limewash, while nondescript cabinets in the unit’s pocket-size kitchen received brightening coats of blush and berry paint.
To complement the building’s prewar aesthetic, Mayden avoided big-box retailers, furnishing the apartment almost entirely with scavenged pieces. A self-described Facebook Marketplace addict, who dispenses tips for scoring secondhand treasures on Tiktok and in a Substack, she focused her hunt on eye-catching materials and one-of-a-kind character.
Compensating for a limited budget, the search required vigilance and, at times, above-and-beyond creativity. But her efforts paid off: A green marble dining table was nabbed in Queens for $350; an upright piano was free from a woman in New Jersey who needed to free up space in her garage. A luxuriously proportioned ABC Carpet & Home couch, meanwhile, was retrieved from a SoHo loft, cut in half to fit through the front door, and rebuilt right in the living room. Its price tag? $300.
A smattering of extra-special accents add personal significance throughout. A poster-size print of Mayden’s grandfather, smiling in a Mets cap, presides over the sitting area. The aforementioned tintype is a photo of close friends at a birthday gathering. Embroidery on the Lands’ End cotton percale sheets showcase the final word—paradiso—of a favorite poem, “For The Poets” by Dana Levin.
Mayden prefers to start fresh each time she moves, selling furniture and decor before landing in a new place that will inevitably inspire its own reinvention. But for now, she’s content to linger here. “I had a party in this space last summer,” she remembers. “My friends were here, the windows were open, music was on. I had a moment of, ‘I can’t believe I did it.’ I’d spent so long wanting to live in New York and this is the ultimate manifestation of that dream. This place—it’s what I always wanted.”












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