Image via: https://gothamist.com/arts-entertainment/stoops-are-center-new-york-city-social-life-2020
I often find myself reminiscing about the days spent on my stoop in Queens, soaking in the presence of neighbors and passersby, simply enjoying the moment. Back then, a perfect day could consist of nothing more than a bus or train ride, a beef patty, a drink, and the joy of community.
Now, living in a Washington, D.C. suburb, I sometimes feel surrounded by zombies. People here seem to follow a monotonous routine: work, home, and repeat. Local activities often revolve solely around dining out, equating spending money with having a good time—a stark contrast to my memories of community and connection, which felt organic rather than manufactured and costly.
I recall discovering the concept of the "passeggiata" during a visit to Amalfi, Italy in 2015. The passeggiata is an evening stroll where people of all ages come together to walk, talk, and play—simple, pure interaction that I observed from the steps of the Duomo. Children played joyfully with nothing but paper, a scene both simple and profound.
Image via: https://civilisable.com/la-passeggiata-in-italian-culture/
This contrast highlights what I feel is missing from my life in the U.S.: a sense of community that isn't confined to economic transactions or the exhausting demands of work culture, where people's worth is too often measured by their output, titles, or degrees. As a single woman, I’ve noticed how relationship hierarchies often prioritize romantic partnerships, leaving platonic connections to fade into the background, only to be revisited when romantic entanglements end.
Having traveled to places like Brazil and various parts of Europe, I've experienced "third places"—communal spaces where people gather just to be. Unlike in the U.S., where a restaurant might rush you to free up a table for profit, these spots welcome you to linger, fostering connections that are less about commerce and more about genuine interaction.
Ray Oldenburg, an expert on 3rd places, said:
"What suburbia cries for are the means for people to gather easily, inexpensively, regularly, and pleasurably—a 'place on the corner,' real life alternatives to television, easy escapes from the cabin fever of marriage and family life that do not necessitate getting into an automobile."
True third places are transformative. They're where you’re recognized, missed if absent, and always welcomed—an antidote to the anonymity and isolation of many modern living spaces. These places, often nestled within walking communities, promote frequent and meaningful interaction.
In the U.S., even well-intentioned developments fall short of creating genuine third places. They may construct gathering spots, but these often feel contrived and centered around spending. I can sit in one of these American third places feeling utterly alone, whereas in a European cafe, I could be alone yet deeply connected.
As an introvert, I cherish being able to enjoy music or a book in such spaces, feeling part of something larger without needing to engage in superficial small talk.
I envision my boutique, Tress Luxe, as one of these third places—a space where people aren't just customers but part of a community, where they can relax and be themselves.
As I contemplate the next phase of my life and what defines 'home,' I realize the importance of living somewhere third places thrive. Community and connection are vital to me, having lived too long in their absence.
Ending on a note from the theme song of Cheers, "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came."