Brooklyn Beach Day

Who says you need to go to the Tropics for a fabulous day at the beach? I just got home from an amazing day of sun and surf right here in my hometown of Brooklyn, New York.

In the late eighties when Coney Island was basically hookers lined up from The Cyclone to Seagate, (a small, gated community about a mile from the rides, but my Daddy got it into his head that it would be a great investment to buy some beachfront property in that very small gated community–and so he did.) Three houses and three years later, my Daddy was gone (RIP Daddy) but the houses still stood. My Mom, a native of Belfast with absolutely NO real estate or management skills sold two of the houses to my Daddy’s asshole Turkish partner (My Dad was from Turkey, my Mom is from Belfast, they met in New York City on a blind date–gotta write about that one day…) but she kept the one that he told her to purchase with my dear Auntie who has also just recently passed.

That house, sold one month before Hurricane Sandy, was amazing. Seagate was an enclave for the rich folk from the city to come into Brooklyn during the 1920s and have places to stay after their wild nights at Coney Island or Luna Park. This was not your typical Brooklyn house. It was a former mansion–maid’s quarters and everything. Over the years it was converted into a multi-family dwelling- five apartments, one of which I had the luxury of living in during my own roaring 20s.

My family has been a part of The Seagate Community for so long that nobody blinks an eye when we’ve shown up this summer to use their private beach.

The beach is gorgeous. White sand, clean water, sailboats in the not so far distance, underused (meaning no crowds), a perfect view of the Verrazano Bridge and a backdrop of some of the most amazing and landmarked houses you have ever seen. (It’s rumored that Al Capone used one of those very houses as a hideout during the 1920s.)

I have nothing against Coney Island sand and the view of the Wonder Wheel and Parachute Jump, but when you have your own private beach, my God, you use it! And so I did. I needed a break from all of the cancer and divorce and trouble I’ve been through and needed to be surrounded a Motley Crew of my favorite people.

LM brought the food, drinks, music, and jokes. MR brought the smokes. AD brought the smokin’ bod, KT brought the girl talk (and her own smokin’ bod…) and my favorite sissie brought the hangover and tales of last night’s debauchery. I brought my towel, a beach chair and a bottle of Coppertone. I knew LM would have the Maui Babe. A discovery he made on trip we took to Hawaii ten years ago this very month.


It was perfect beach weather. 80 degrees and sunny. I love a good tan, but with all of the shit I’ve been through this summer, not to mention the gruesome heat wave that struck NYC for most of July, unfortunately, I’ve only been to the beach once. No tan. (…cries…) Luckily, I had a bevy of bronzers, sunscreens and of course the magical potion of Maui Babe to help me look a little less April and a little more August.

What a spectacular day. We ate, a swam, we laughed, we tanned. Goodness Gracious, it was absolute perfection! I never understood people who don’t like the beach. I LOVE IT! And after today, I realize, I need it! So I sit here in my bikini bottoms and tank top, covered in sand and salt and sunscreen, figuring I’ll need a Brillo Pad and some Pine-Sol to scrub this extra layer from my body and I’m thinking, Oh Summer, please don’t end…



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