Starting a Bookstore in Brooklyn
Or; how to walk a tight-rope without spilling your tea in three easy steps...
Le funambule
I can t think
of what I m missing
in flames now
& the funis over
sirens going on & on
even under the blanket s
wool pulled
hot over my eyes
but last night I fell fast
to a neighbor s windchime
& refuse & refuse
to rememberI wrote this poem in 2018. It was after 2 am. I was alone and awake with some eagerness for a world I couldn’t anticipate beyond the pall of pre-dawn dark. I made myself a bowl of cacio e pepe. And while I ate and tried to settle my nerves, this poem (then titled 2 am cacio e pepe) came to me.
I think, of the poems I’ve written, it’s my favorite. It captures something of my failures and successes, my joys and disappointments, the nature of my anxiety—the sense that so many of us, day in and day out, feel as though we’re walking a tight-rope. If you’re reading this, it’s very likely that you too have been a funambulist at one point or another.
There’s a lot to this small poem. The punning on “fun is” and “funis” (which is latin for rope). The lack of punctuation. A refusal of memory. But I rather not explain this poem or perform an exegetical autopsy. First of all, how arrogant would that be? Second, because I think it has that pleasurably kaleidoscopic quality I associate with the L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets. What you bring to the poem is what it gives back—poetry as mirror (at least, in this case, for me).
If there was a unifying theme, in retrospect, for my posts in 2022—I’d say it was managing risk and reward. Time and again I felt challenged by the question “how will I know…?”
And I found, as many before me have and many after will, that it is only ever a matter of faith—the invisible alloy that bonds our desire to our will. Within the liminal space that our faith inhabits is fear, excitement, anxiety, nausea, and every basal/limbic response that synaptically constitutes our desire, all resolved by sheer force of will into one horribly complicated word: trust.
For most of us, faith and trust are not innate. These things are learned. These things are gifts given to us by adults who’ve chosen to love us in the most vulnerable stages of our lives. Or, even later in life, by another person who demonstrates for us what it means to be steadfast. Our faith is often embodied by our relationships, and our relationships are often what catalyze our blessings (or the reward for acting in/on faith).
All of that to say that taking a risk, even a calculated risk, is not easy if you’ve never been given models of steadfastness in the face of uncertainty, if you’ve never witnessed a blessing in real-time. And sometimes, conversely, our experiences teach us not to be risk-averse, but risk-prone. For those of us who are more risk-prone, the school of hard knocks does it best to knock some God-fearing back into us. But, today, I’d like to think about those safety nets we sometimes take for granted when we’ve been walking the tight-rope for so long—those things and people that remind us, have reminded us, that no matter what, we’ll be ok.
As Ms. Meredith Jacks so hilariously reminded me today, time is a flat circle. Never would I have been so bold as to imagine opening a bookstore at 1021 Cortelyou Rd, in the neighborhood I grew up in. Down the block and across the street is where I went to kindergarten, where I was constantly being scolded for my mischief (out came the ferule!) and also lovingly tended to during and after my daily, inconsolable tearfests (because I wanted to go home!). It still feels like a dream.
There used to be a bookstore in the neighborhood, over two decades ago, run by a couple. I remember Ms. Hazel and her husband. I remember coming to the shop with so much excitement for one of the Harry Potter books (an event commemorated by the local Flatbush paper). Sadly, the shop closed and we’ve been without a bookshop since.
Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of wonderful bookstores in Brooklyn (all of whom have been helpful—my special gratitude to Ms. Morgan at Greenlight Flatbush and Tom at RiffRaff PVD), but these stores are not within walking distance. And there are few things I love more than a nice walk to a pleasant bookstore.
Actually, I spent much of the summer taking long walks to my favorite bookstores and very casually floated into the ether the idea of owning my own bookshop. But it really seemed like an impossibility. Not a thing for me, but a more capable and responsible individual with deep pockets and deeper connections. I had anticipated something else would come up for me. A teaching job? A writing fellowship? Fast forward six months and all my channels of career development had run dry. I couldn’t find a teaching job. All of my writing fellowship applications were rejected and all the doors I had assumed might open for me had indeed closed.
As a brief non-sequitur, I must say…real estate in NYC is a wild thing (understatement of the year). 1021 Cortelyou Rd, for the past ten years, has been leased by a wonderful gift shop called Brooklyn ARTery. Before then, it was my beloved, childhood black barbershop (Christyles). And only a few years ago, ARTery ownership changed hands and was bought by Ms. Meredith Jacks. This year, Meredith partnered with artist Annie Del Hierro-Jost and expanded the business by cleaning out and moving into a run-down hardware store across the street.
So, in the midst of all these doors closing in my life, there was Annie and Meredith hustling to get the new and improved Brooklyn ARTery open and ready for the holidays. Perhaps it was the fact that every other door had been divinely shut tight. Perhaps it was hunger. But the idea of a bookstore started getting realer and realer. First came the name (Zafra? Sofrito? Taylor & Co.?). Then some idea of what it would look like. Then, finally, something in me said now that they’re moving go and check out what’s up with the old ARTery. No big deal either way. I liked stopping in there to say hi to Julia or Melissa or whoever was working that day anyway. And I usually picked up a little gift or wrapping or…well…maybe this time I’d be picking up the space?
To make a long story short, I shared my idea with Annie and Meredith and they were both so enthusiastic! Needless to say, everyone in the area was in their DMs asking what would become of the space. But Meredith and Annie both saw communal and ethical value in bringing a bookstore back to the neighborhood—as well as the potential for collaboration. Larger readings, for example, could happen at their new place—which is more capacious and newly renovated. They’ve put a lot of hard work and visionary thinking into their new space and you can feel all of that goodness when you step inside.
But their new shop (and the old shop) is only a reflection of their magnanimity, creativity, and gumption. Meredith is a retired teacher, originally from Austin, with a family of her own. She has been both my big sister, and (on special occasions), my grandma. Annie is a brilliant artist, maker of the famous Killa Collages (Killa being the Kichwa word for moon, pronounced kee-ya), and responsible for several installations and murals in the neighborhood. The two have been angels in my life, guiding me through this process with uncommon kindness and generosity.
In my life, I’ve been blessed with strong, female role-models. Women who demonstrate simultaneously life-sustaining vulnerability and tide-shifting power. Maybe it’s a silly thing to say, a gendered generalization, but I think most who identify as male learn from the women in their lives that yes, we can be both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. No compromise need be made there. Meredith and Annie, aside from never taking a bad photo, are two of the most remarkable people I’ve met in a very long time (and I think you’ll really get that vibe too when you visit the ARTery yourself!). They have been the wind beneath my wings for the past couple of months and I think the best way to thank them is to make Taylor & Co Books the best bookstore and neighboring business it can be!
Circling back to Whitney Houston for a moment…how will I know? What if the bookstore is a tremendous failure? What if…? And then…? Or…well…?
Frankly, Ms. Houston, I don’t know. We don’t know. It’s all terrifying. But it’s a risk I feel comfortable taking because I grew up knowing full well that I had safety nets. I always knew my blended family (the Sanchez-Taylor fam and Colarusso fam…hence Taylor & Co.) had my back. I know Annie and Meredith (within reason) got my back. I know this neighborhood is highly literate and would love a space to encourage literacy and imagination in their children. And I know that the process thus far has been a tremendous blessing already. There is much work to do, but it’s good work. Eustress, as they, with occasion for 2 am cacio e pepe.
In the coming months I’ll update you all on the process of starting a business in NYC. What have I learned so far? What life hacks are available to those looking to create their own LLC in NY? All of this and more. But first, I have to get this shop off the ground. We’re currently investing in new furniture, point of sale systems, online development, and, of course, books and inventory. If you’d like to help, please feel free to donate to our GoFundMe (link below) or…if you’d prefer…donate some book! We’re aiming to raise $20k to cover the deposit, rent, and the aforementioned expenses.
You can send books to: Andrew Colarusso 1019 Beverley Rd Brooklyn NY 11218
Feel free to give what you can. Any little bit helps. And I promise your donations, made in good faith, will not be put to waste. GoFundMe’s policies discourage any reward/tiered donations. But at the very least I can promise each donor a personalized thank you card. We will also have totes for sale. Anyone who comes into the store with a Taylor & Co. tote will qualify for a 2% discount on purchases (NYC teachers as well will qualify for a 2% discount). And for those angel investors who donate $1000 or more, we’d like to thank you by painting your name in the shop window.
We’re aiming for a March 1st opening. I hope to see you there!