8.3.26 / Putting Down Roots / Cosimo & Evan Skovronsky

Savannah had its staples in my daily diet. A cold brew from Paris Market, “The Farmer” sandwich from FraLi, a buy one get one free Uber Eats pickup of sesame chicken from E-Tang, and a bottle of Flora Prosecco from Provisions. After four years of living in the South, I knew what I liked and I knew where to go.

But just last month, I moved back up North, not to my beautiful small town in Pennsylvania, but to our neighbor, New York. Specifically, Brooklyn. As I walked back home through Ridgewood (yes, I know Ridgewood is in Queens, I was on my way to Bushwick), the sheer amount of options in bars, bodegas, coffee shops, and restaurants overwhelmed me a bit.

Just a month ago, I knew about every place to eat in my city. I knew where to take friends (Moodrights), where to take family (Brochu’s), where to take a date (Late Air), and where to go by myself (Flora & Fauna for brunch). But now I have to do it all over again, which filled me with a sense of fear and anticipation. How long would it take me? It took me the better part of two years to become a regular in Savannah. It took about three before I started meeting people outside of school and befriending locals. And about four until I started getting stopped to catch up at the farmers market or a quick “Oh my god, how are you?” while in line for the bathroom.

I remember growing up in a small town, every time I went anywhere with my electrician father, we would have to chat with one of his friends. Grocery store trips that could’ve taken 30 minutes were suddenly an hour after running into his co-workers, middle school teachers, and buddies. It used to annoy me. It felt like a small-town mindset. But within years in Savannah, the same thing was suddenly happening to me. In a city that felt massive compared to my small-town population of 4,000, I never thought that ideology and experience would translate, but it did, and I learned to love it.

There are big conversations around New York about transplants. And while I will always be one, the consensus seems to be you can be a better one by supporting local and longstanding businesses, volunteering in your community, and being proud of your neighborhood, while still acknowledging I’ll never be a real “New Yorker.”

But now I’m looking right down the barrel. I could fall into the trap of TikTok recommendations and Beli reviews, or I could figure it out myself. But when you’re somewhere new, you want to feel involved right away. The age of the algorithm has turned “city life” into a revolving door of the newest, hottest spot. But there’s no longevity. Building a life and a community, though, isn’t about convenience, it’s about connection.

How do you rebuild your “taste” from scratch?

I’ve been inspired a lot by people trying to walk every block in their city on Strava. I tried something similar. I went to the MoMA alone. I get off a couple stops early and walk the rest of the way home. I’ll just walk until I find a restaurant instead of looking one up before.

It can feel a little LARPy (live action role play) at times, but I guess it should feel like that at first. You need to be a stranger before you become a friend.

I think we all forget that everything we consider “a part of ourselves” was once unfamiliar. I didn’t wake up and just decide to drink cold brew. I had my fair share of milk alternative lattes before I landed on the fact that straight caffeine was just better and easier. I didn’t just plan the night out; someone else took me first. Everything requires a little bit of effort. A little bit of curiosity. Maybe even a little bit of pretending.

Taste isn’t something you’re born with. Some of us might have a natural hack for it, but it’s something you learn. A professor once told me taste is all about “culture high and low.” It’s built through experience, at the shittiest dive bar and a three-star Michelin restaurant.

You have to have a bad meal before you find a good one. You have to walk into the bar that isn’t for you before you find the one that is. You have to spend a little time feeling out of place before a place starts feeling familiar.

The internet has made it easier than ever to skip that process. We can find the “best” restaurant, the “coolest” neighborhood, or the “hidden gem” before we ever step foot outside. And I’m not one to shy away from a recommendation. Some of my best experiences in this city have happened because Emily Lacey told me to go somewhere. But a recommendation from someone who knows you is different. It comes with context. A recommendation from strangers is often less of a recommendation and more of a sales pitch. Recommendations only have value when you trust the person giving them.

The point isn’t to find the best places in the city. It’s to find the best places for you in the city.

I spent four years learning Savannah. I learned its streets, its people, its rhythms, its random one hour of rain every day in the summer. I learned where to go when I wanted to celebrate, when I wanted comfort, and when I wanted a stiff drink (Joe & Vera’s). That knowledge didn’t come from a guide, it came from living.

I’m not going to learn Brooklyn overnight. And maybe I shouldn’t want to. The fun part of moving somewhere new is not knowing. It’s getting to slowly build a life from scratch. A life full of embarrassing moments, the best meals, the worst music, and the best people.

You don’t become part of a place by arriving. You become part of it by returning.

While I still figure that out, here are some moments from my first month in New York that connected me back to Savannah.

Printemps, a shopping rec from our founder Emily Lacey.

It ain’t the Georgia Queen but a close second.

These Cosimo esque cutlery and coasters.

The Kellogg’s Diner felt a lot like The Laundry Diner.

Missing those Savannah sunsets.

This next little section below is something new we’re trying in every newsletter. It’ll feature some messages from Cosimo herself and offer some recommendations (we’re definitely a friend you can trust) about film, books, music, readings, and, of course, clothes.
Enjoy.

Our first two weeks of Cosimo have been nothing short of magical. Thank you to everyone who has visited the parlor floor to shop, play, and party—we have big plans to do a lot more of it.

As we grow and expand our universe, we will bring in new designers, artists, and brands you need to know about. This month, we launched Alohas, a selection of sandals and flats designed and made in Barcelona. Deiji Studios landed in-store last Friday with the cutest little grosgrain matching set… much more from them soon. DMY Studios are our new favorite sunnies; this London-based brand has been seen on the likes of Kendall Jenner and the Hadids.

This coming week, we are excited to welcome Edie Parker (think sassy, bejeweled lighter cases for all your extracurricular activities), and a new risograph print from artist Abed Shalabi hits the Cleo Editions bin. We’re excited for you to see it all <3

Now, here’s some recommendations from our store and the zeitgeist at large!

1

@thenextselleb on Instagram. They rank popular bars/restaurants/etc. on a scale of LARPy to true foodie. If not for a recommendation or a reflection, it’s good for a laugh.

2

Flower clippers as a hostess gift. They are just perfect with a little boutique. Pick up a pair at Cosimo and chat with the best gardener we know, Erin Skalde.

3

The Duchamp Retrospective if you find yourself in the city.

4

We’ve been loving Maxie McCoy’s blog. She’s a dear friend of the store and gave us a special shoutout last week.

5

Max Simon’s (@breakfast_simon) mini mobiles landed in store. Need I say more.