At Bakeri

I have been living, pretty much exclusively, for the lavender shortbread cookies at a cafe called Bakeri. It's a small place, always full of suspiciously clean people sporting that sort of new rumpled elegance that has grasped Brooklyn and won't let go. The girls behind the counter wear blue coveralls and vintage scarves to keep their hair out of their face. There are only 4 proper tables and getting one is harder than getting into Harvard. 

So when you get one, you stay. As long as you can. As long as you can get away with it, an hour at least. Bring a book, bring a friend (preferably one who puts up with fretting). Drink more coffee than you need to just so you don't have to give up the little table. Cling to the little table for dear life. It's a jungle out there so you might as well take your time.