But There's No Closet! Lessons My Daughter Taught Me While Apartment Hunting In NYC

 About a month ago, I went with my daughter to NYC to look for her first apartment.  I expected the day to go a certain way; she would look at the size of the place she and her roommate could get for their budget, realize the absurdity of the plan, and we would head home together; she newly appreciative of her safe, cozy suburban bedroom and her friend in need of a new roommate.Instead, a mere few hours after arriving at Port Authority, I found myself at a Western Union conveniently located around the corner from an apartment (I'd named hellish option #1) signing a wire transfer for a security deposit.  How did we get here?Before we'd even reached the front door, I'd climbed three flights of stairs (no elevator), squeezed down ridiculously narrow hallways (this coupled with the lack of elevator would make for a particularly enjoyable move in day), and inhaled both cigarette and the, admittedly not so unpleasant, scent of marijuana.  My daughter seemed to be unfazed by all of the above.Greeted by a front door with no lock and that looked like a two year old could kick in, hellish option #1 consisted of a kitchen with a cracked tile floor, cabinets hanging from broken hinges, and enough grease on the range hood to keep multiple fast food chains in business for the next ten years.Unable to contain her glee, immediately stripping away all possibility of negotiation, she gushes to the realtor, "Ohmygod, it's perfect."  I stand there mute, unblinking and utterly shocked.  Is she kidding me?  This is a girl who loves boutique shopping, who holds Coco Chanel in higher regard than pretty much anyone or anything.  This is a young woman who took her first of several trips to Paris at age ten and who is quite comfortable at the Four Seasons.Standing in the kitchen, I look around.  Where's the living room?  There are two bedrooms that are pretty large; one on each side of the kitchen. But that's it.  There is one window in the kitchen that looks out onto a brick wall that is maybe 2 feet away, allowing in absolutely no light, the room feels like it's about 90 degrees and I hear the radiators hissing.  "Can we turn the heat down?" I ask the realtor.  "Oh, no sorry, it's set for the whole building.  It has to stay this way," he says, smiling.  Ummm what???We head into bedroom number one that includes a closet!  Maybe things are looking up. Next to the closet is a door, and yup, there it is, the bathroom. It seems clean and the toilet flushes which is all good, but in order to get to the bathroom one needs to go through this bedroom.  So, in the middle of the night or whenever, anyone needing to pee awakens the person sleeping in there?  Seems so.  Yes, indeedy.We enter bedroom two.  Not so bad.  Two windows look onto the fire escape and what seems to be a garbage area outside.  One window looks cockeyed and doesn't really close too well and then, here's where I think we might get her back to reality, we notice...there's no closet.I am a little ashamed to admit that my daughter has enough clothes for about three closets. (Then again, the apple doesn't fall far)  She's a bit of a fashion guru; she shops consignment and vintage and has managed over the years to gather quite a collection.  I feel a sense of relief wash over me because this could be just what we need to burst her bubble.But she's still smiling.  She looks unconcerned.  Maybe she doesn't notice?  How can she not? I'm horrified and wondering if I can really consider letting my baby spend even one night in this place.Trying to bring some reality to the moment, I say, "Um, do you see there's no closet?  I packed a car for college for you for four years and I'm telling you that you can not live somewhere without a closet."  She smiles, "No worries.  I'll just get those hanging racks on wheels.  It'll be fine."Who is this girl??? Is she serious?What I thought would be a day chock full of life lessons for my daughter turned out to be a day of reckoning for me.  She had grown up. It seemed that without me noticing she understood that as one of my children, she got certain perks, like staying at the Four Seasons and traveling to cool places. She grew up with closets, accessible bathrooms, rooms with views and windows that locked.  She had safety and security and all of her needs fulfilled. While she was grateful for all of that, what she didn't have and what she really craved was independence.She taught me that day that what she wanted wasn't all the comforts of home.  She'd come to understand that to enjoy them she would need to earn them on her own. The lack of a closet was not going to stand in her way of getting a place to discover herself, to earn her way and to make her mark.  The future would include plenty of closet space.  For now, she would make do.I admit that I'm a bit jealous, and still somewhat horrified, thinking about her there, but I've also never been more proud of her than I was that day sweating bullets in that hellish apartment.Anyone else experience the same?