This 850-Square-Foot Brooklyn Heights Apartment Is the Epitome of Romance

“The number one rule for a romantic life,” says Talia Mayden, “is never to use overhead lighting.” On this particular morning, the 30-inch paper lantern suspended from Mayden’s living room ceiling happens to be on, and to underscore the point, she rises from her seat to remedy the issue. To a visitor’s eye, the light switch is nowhere to be found—that is, until a tintype photograph is plucked from a ledge near the front door to reveal a white plastic switch plate. In an instant, the lantern goes dark, ceding to flickering candles and late-morning sunlight.

Mayden’s one-bedroom apartment, nestled on the parlor floor of a Brooklyn Heights brownstone, is full of intentional gestures designed to elevate the everyday—or, at the very least, to disguise it.

A photo of the stately apartment caught Mayden’s eye when she’d first moved to NYC, but it was already occupied. The director rented a space upstairs instead, but weeks later, the coveted unit was vacant. Mayden moved fast: “I called my landlord and told him I’d be moving.”

With original features dating back to the turn of the 20th century, the 850-square-foot rental possessed an innate sense of old-world elegance, with a grand fireplace, dark wood detailing, towering bay windows, and private patio swathed in vines. But in Mayden’s hands, even the smallest decisions became opportunities to enhance the home’s existing character rather than erase it. For the 30-year-old commercial director—who moved from LA to New York in 2021 and stumbled on the space shortly after—decorating became a daily exercise in creating and cultivating beauty.

Mayden’s art collection ranges from friends’ sketches to lucky street finds. Some pieces play a functional role in the room’s design: A Lonnie Leonard painting on the bookshelf hides board games, a camera bag, and other items Mayden prefers to keep out of sight.

“I always considered myself an artist,” she says, “but as I’ve gotten older, my day-to-day life has had a lot less creativity in it than I imagined. It’s been a sort of identity crisis: Am I even an artist at all? But then I get to come home to this, a vision I’ve realized.” A component of that vision involved concealing standard-issue elements—like the plastic switchplates—commonly found in New York City rentals. Decidedly unromantic white bedroom walls were drenched in a moody burgundy limewash, while nondescript cabinets in the unit’s pocket-size kitchen received brightening coats of blush and berry paint.

To complement the building’s prewar aesthetic, Mayden avoided big-box retailers, furnishing the apartment almost entirely with scavenged pieces. A self-described Facebook Marketplace addict, who dispenses tips for scoring secondhand treasures on Tiktok and in a Substack, she focused her hunt on eye-catching materials and one-of-a-kind character.