At first New York overwhelmed me, I was so confused that I strayed only a couple of blocks from my hotel off Times Square, to go to the movies.
James Dean. No introduction needed. 1953 (22 y/o) a document of how he lived in his NYC apartment. A rare personal glimpse inside his space.
Sighted from Selvedge yard (Such a great blog, so worth a read and a follow) –
Until 1953 Dean was often difficult to locate: He rented a dozen hotel rooms in midtown, none of them for more than a few weeks at a time. There was, he thought, good reason to be elusive, for his private life was often unconventional and messy. At last he settled into a cheap fifth-floor walk-up at 19 West 68th Street, a tiny chamber with space only for a daybed, a built-in desk and a hot plate; there was no kitchen, and the common bath was down the hallway. Guests invariably found his room cluttered with empty beer bottles, half-eaten cans of food, unsleeved records and dog-eared books.