The Studio+ was a bit of a narrow corridor, yes, but personal space in the building was sacrificed in favor of shared luxury spaces: high-quality kitchens where guests are encouraged to cook, a cozy wood-paneled bar, a terrace with two hot tubs, a workout studio, a laundry room with an arcade and Ping-Pong table, a cocktail bar in the basement, and a lobby with distressed couches and a barista making complimentary cortados.
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I'd been living at WeLive for a few days at this point—drinking as many free cortados and beers as I could—when I met Jordan at a party on the terrace.
It had Wi-Fi, pots and pans, bedsheets, towels, toiletries, and even books on the shelves Joe Gould's Teeth—a book about a homeless man—struck me as a weird choice.
Last spring, I couldn't stop thinking about WeLive.
Like a cruise ship for adults? That people shouldn't accept as a fact of life that they share a roof with total strangers and never, over the course of months or years, learn more than a name and some basic information—if that even.