The moment you realize you’ve become a cliche—strolling down upper Madison Avenue in your fur and turban, say, or arranging the artisanal cheese and pluot plate at the reception for the dystopian YA novel you Kickstarter-published—is a New York rite of passage. And there on I-95, as I sent in the $35 annual fee, I knew I had crossed the paper-thin threshold that separates the merely pretentious from the parodic: I had become the consummate SAHM (stay-at-home mom).

The only impression I had prior to joining Park Slope Parents—PSP, in the cloying message board slang that substitutes “DH” for “darling husband” and “BM,” somewhat confusingly, for “breast milk” (paging Dr. Freud?)—was that it was full of assholes.

Let me explain. The first time I heard of the group was in 2006, via a Gawker account of a fight among its members. A would-be good Samaritan wrote that she’d found a “boy’s hat” on the street and wanted to return it to its owner. A fellow PSPer replied to the message, taking offense at the “hurtful” sexism inherent in the assignation of gender bias to an item of clothing, which prompted a cross-fire of heated, essay-length exchanges from dozens of members until I can only assume that the original poster was by then committed to Bellevue.

I heard about PSP again last year, from a former member whose status had been revoked after she violated the list’s privacy policy by sharing excerpts of user emails on a snarky neighborhood gossip blog. I was intrigued by her expulsion. After all, if what happened on Park Slope Parents had to stay on Park Slope Parents--if not behind closed doors, then at least within the confines of an invitation-only Yahoo! group—I figured it had to be good.

Here I should admit that before I became a Park Slope parent, I was a Park Slope kid. When I was 8, my family moved to the northwestern corner of the Slope. It was the same year that The New York Times deemed the neighborhood a “Walt Whitman ideal,” although apparently no one had informed the prostitutes who still roamed my corner after-hours. We’d relocated from Austin, Texas, and my friends from the Lone Star state erroneously thought I’d moved to the tough-as-nails Brooklyn of Do The Right Thing and Moonstruck-era Cher, of stick ball and zeppoles and gang wars. "Have you held a gun yet?" they would whisper over the phone. "Have you gotten mugged?" But when I told them I lived in Park Slope, they changed their tune. "Have you had a cappuccino?" they'd ask breathlessly. "Can you tell us what spelt is?"

In my defense, for a long time, even as an adult, I resisted the Park Slope stereotype. I went to public school—the lesser public school (no hookers in the 321 zone)! I’m not a member of the Food Co-Op, because I’m too lazy, I don’t care which country my hummus comes from and I refuse to let anyone outfitted in a neon orange vest escort me home unless they’re an EMT and I’m unconscious. I’ve always defined myself as an outsider to the twee-hugging part of the borough. (For Christ's sake, technically I live in Prospect Heights.) But in the past few months I have come face to face with the distinct possibility that I’ve finally morphed into the species of specious Brooklynite I’ve always mocked simply by making use of my uterus, and allowing a child to do the same.

The evidence against me: Within a few weeks of my son’s September arrival—after enduring an unavoidable and punishing newborn boot camp that found me, most days, slumped on the floor frantically rocking my wailing baby while playing “Ocean Waves,” an iTunes download that sounded more like a shitty cellphone recording of an industrial dryer than the sea’s soft lullaby—I emerged to join the sun-washed masses of mothers and nannies who fill Park Slope’s sidewalks, outdoor cafes and playgrounds during working hours. The eyes of my non-parent peers tended to glaze over a few minutes into my new go-to conversation starter, a detailed update on the state of my infant’s bowel movements, but with my fellow moms I was preaching to the choir. Who would have thought that an apathetic agnostic like me would discover my congregation amid the Sisterhood of the Obstructive Stroller?

Yet at mother’s meetings and playgroups, over decaf lattes and pressed vegetable juices and the odd naughty noon glass of sauvignon blanc, my new clique and I chatted about sleep schedules (for the babies), kegels (for us), and up-the-back poops (hopefully for the babies, although postpartum incontinence loomed like a scatalogical specter), pausing every so often to absentmindedly free a breast from our shirts. (Incidentally, the list of people intimately familiar with my nipples—once limited to my college boyfriend, my gynecologist, and, due to an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction, my middle-school gym teacher—now included my landlord and at least a dozen area busboys). Every mom I befriended seemed to know eight others, and so on like a procreative pyramid scheme, at the apex of which presumably sat Eve, all by her lonesome, getting the side-eye at toddler yoga after word got out about Cain. And whenever I asked how two new mothers had met, the answer invariably led back to PSP. One woman assured me that it was a must for any mom worth her BPA-free playmat. “If it’s not on Park Slope Parents,” she said, “It’s like it didn’t happen.”

So I clicked. I signed. I succumbed. I opened my Gmail and waited to see what secrets my new identity might grant me access to.

Short answer: None. (In retrospect, the whole Yahoo! thing should have been a red flag. I mean, why not communicate via stone tablet or semaphore flags?) It turns out that the main perk of joining PSP is getting a frightening number of emails—hundreds a day—mostly consisting of classified ads pimping “lightly used” items such as a girls’—watch out, friend! Them’s fightin’ words!—faux-fur coat from a “pet, smoke, bedbug-free household.” By and large the exchanges are mundane. One thread that got a lot of traffic was titled “Re: Warning: Question About Baby Poop,”—no ER visit necessary, in case you were wondering.  At the end of my first week as a Park Slope Parent, my unread inbox count hovered ominously at 666.

The mark of the parenting beast close at hand, I scaled back to a daily digest.

(Photo via Getty Images)

The House of D. (RevBilly.com)

Within walking distance from Barney's and Trader Joe's, the Brooklyn House of Detention is preparing for 759 new tenants. Not exactly the modern picture  of bohemian paradise Brooklyn likes to portray. But this is also the reality of the prison industrial complex in which we live, The Times reports:

The jail will incarcerate primarily prisoners who have been arraigned and are awaiting trial in Brooklyn or on Staten Island. Because those prisoners are no longer coming from Rikers, this will reduce bus traffic, officials say. The average stay will be 56 days. Prisoners are escorted from the complex to and from Brooklyn Criminal Court through an underground tunnel.

The detention house was never meant to be permanent and closed in 2003, but given growing pains at Rikers Island, the Department of Corrections is renovating and reopening the Brooklyn penitentiary.

Downtown Brooklyn, however, has been a site of rapid gentrification which leaves many community members uneasy about their children's safety and the value of their homes. The concerns are not the prisoners - which are locked up and under surveillance - but rather the parking spots and visitors as a potential factor to increased foot crime.

To add insult to the mockery, Crain's notes that the "city toyed with the idea of adding retail units on the bottom floor of the jail, but a lawsuit in 2010 barred authorities from expanding the jail in any way."

I need a haircut and some dry wall. (Getty)

Back in May, The Observer reported that downtown designer Robert Geller had bought a brownstone in Fort Greene of all places. Now, he does that most Brooklyn of things and invites Details along while he gets a haircut. There, they talk about renovating his new historic home, architectural and international inspirations, and the beauty of his adopted borough.

"We're not doing too much because it's in pretty good shape, but it's such a fun project because you get to use your aesthetic and vision in a different medium than clothing. You get to create it in a house," Mr. Geller says of his renovations. "You know my wife is a designer, too, and so it's really fun to work with her, too, on a project like this."

Not only does his design work influence his renovations, but architecture is now inspiring his clothing, as well. "I've been for a long time interested in the Bauhaus, in all aspects of it, but its inspiration for this collection was the use of geometric shapes," Mr. Geller says.

We can just picture Mies van der Rohe in a pair of Robert Geller's award-winning skinny jeans.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Grafitti or organic greens—take your pic.

Our colleagues over on the Culture page bring word that Williamsburg art space Monster Island is really, finally closing. This is only the latest gallery/venue to be shuttered by gentrification's creep across the neighborhood, though this time, the scene may truly be over—it is rumored a Whole Foods is taking over the space near the waterfront.

Williamsburg is already beginning to look more and more like Park Slope, and this would only make the transformation complete. After all, Brownstone Brooklyn is getting a Whole Foods, and they don't even want it, fearing for the fate of their beloved co-op.

Williamsbug does not trouble itself with such petty problems. The bros in the condos and their flats-wearing fillies will be thrilled. If anything, this news will only trouble Duane Reade and its supremacy as Bedford Avenue's go-to growler supplier.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Stay outta Cobble Hill! (NYMag)

The Observer's favorite newspaper columnist weighed in on our favorite grocer today. "Here’s Reason No. 501 never to set foot in the People’s Republic of Park Slope," Andrea Peyser declares in The Post, referring to the brewing Israel boycott at the Park Slope Food Co-op. Her screed is as loud and droning as a Phish concert.

Earlier this week, we gave space for a BDS defense, so it only seems fair to let Ms. Peyser air her grievances, as well.

The issue isn’t plastic bags, banned from the co-op in 2008 to save the planet. Nor is it plastic water bottles (banned), or Coca-Cola (banned in protest of labor abuses in Colombia). And it’s not about meat, which arrived on the free-range shelves in 2002 -- to the horror of militant vegans -- along with microbrewed beer but, tragically, no Budweiser.

[...]

The issue isn’t plastic bags, banned from the co-op in 2008 to save the planet. Nor is it plastic water bottles (banned), or Coca-Cola (banned in protest of labor abuses in Colombia). And it’s not about meat, which arrived on the free-range shelves in 2002 -- to the horror of militant vegans -- along with microbrewed beer but, tragically, no Budweiser.

[...]

Mazor just wants this to blow over, so she can go back to bagging her all-natural greens. “If I have anything to do with it, it won’t come up for a vote.”

Being reduced to shopping at Pathmark would be a major letdown. In Park Slope, it might come to that.

Ms. Peyser, herself a BroBo, even gives The Observer a shout-out, quoting from our interview with Alan Dershowitz. This reporter can now die a happy man.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Pricey! (Brownstoner)

Last week, the American Institute of Architects announced that work for designers has been slumping the past five months, and yesterday the New York Building Congress reported that construction starts for the first half of the year were down 40 percent from the same time in 2010. Both are bad news, because the construction economy was supposed to have begun turning around this year, and that still is not the case.

That must make Brooklyn an alternate reality.

According to PropertyShark data, Brooklyn luxury real estate is at a three-year high. Exactly 223 properties sold for more than $1 million, and surprisingly the best performing neighborhood is not one known for its brownstones—Williamsburg. The hip hood had 35 luxury sales, followed by 31 in Park Slope and 28 in Carroll Gardens/Red Hook (looking at you, Sam Sifton).

Crain's dove into the numbers and came up with a top 10:

According to the PropertyShark data, seven of the 10 priciest residential sales were for single- or two-family homes. The most expensive of the lot was the sale of a 2,914-square-foot single-family house in Gravesend built in 1920. It sold for $10.3 million. Meanwhile, a 26th floor, 3,263-square-foot, four-bedroom condo unit at 1 Hanson Place—the former Williamsburg Savings Bank Tower in downtown Brooklyn—rounded out the list of top deals in the quarter selling for $2.8 million.

The Observer actually wrote about that Gravesend home, one of the houses of the holy, which sold back in May.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Just your average BroBo.

That's what a co-op member who works in Manhattan P.R. reminded The Observer in an email yesterday.

The flack did hedged in a follow-up email, though: "Please note that the percentage is admittedly too high!" Expect a full-investigation of the matter very soon. In the meantime, catch up on The Observer's continued hard-hitting coverage of the Park Slope Food Co-op.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Organic democracy. (BKLYN GUY

On the progressive blog Waging Nonviolence, Kiera Feldman mounts a vociferous defense of the Park Slope Co-op's right to boycott Israeli goods, should its members feel so inclined. It is in large part a 1,600-word critique of The Observer's recent series on the BDS debate that has swept the brownstone bastion in recent months. We considered grabbing a few paragraphs for a "smug" blockquote commentary of our own, but instead, we're giving the subject a full airing here, republished with permission. And, for more, there is a lighthearted shopping trip to the co-op to see exactly what products might be boycotted, which kind of reminds The Observer of the time we went comparison shopping at the co-op. Now, to Ms. Feldman:

Once, in the bulk goods aisle of the Park Slope Food Coop, a wild-haired woman stood next to me and scrutinized the coffee-grinder settings. “I’m using it for an enema,” she explained. “It needs to be very fine.” I suggested the espresso grind.

This is exactly the kind of shopping experience I hoped for when I joined the Park Slope Food Coop in the fall of 2009: a realization of the eternal promise of New York, home of the strange. (That and crazycheap organic food.) Founded in 1973, the Coop is a Brooklyn institution with enough character to have spawned its own genre of trend piece. Some examples: the Coop has Byzantine rules and work requirements (debatable); the Coop has nannies covering their employers’ shifts (dubious); and, most recently, the Coop is becoming a hotbed of anti-Semitism (downright wrong).

The New York Observer has contributed the latest addition to the genre, with a smug piece earlier this month devoted to Coop members’ efforts to initiate a boycott of Israeli products and divest from whatever Israeli holdings the Coop might have. At the historically progressive Coop, the Observer procured a chorus of sources declaring the campaign anti- Semitic and intolerable in “the heart of Chaimtown,” as one man put it, referring to Park Slope’s high Jewish population. For the full sensationalist effect, Alan Dershowitz—the de facto representative of the hawkish Israel-right-or-wrong Jewish establishment—denounced the campaign’s “bigotry” and threatened to shut the joint down, an ambitious goal for a Cambridge, Massachusetts, resident who is not a member of the democratically-governed Coop.

The Coop campaign is part of Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS), a global movement launched with a 2005 call by 170 Palestinian civil-society groups. Shorthand demands: end the occupation of the Palestinian Territories; end the legal discrimination against Palestinian citizens of Israel; and allow the 700,000 Palestinians expelled in the 1948 creation of the state to return—along with their descendants—to what is now Israel. Until the country complies with international law, the movement vows economic and cultural boycotts, institutional divestments, and governmental sanctions of Israel. Perhaps the strongest indicator of BDS’s power is the Boycott Law passed in the Knesset in July, making it illegal for groups like Boycott from Within to advocate BDS in Israel, a state that bills itself as “the only democracy in the Middle East.”

Leading the charge against BDS at the Coop is Barbara Mazor, who told the Observer, “I think [BDS supporters are] latching onto it like slogans. Like true believers, it’s the cool thing to do. You know, ‘I’m a progressive, and it’s a progressive cause,’ so I think that’s how it’s coming through, very thoughtlessly.” (Mazor also alluded to her otherwise liberal politics with a dig at “a certain president [who] spent eight years in office.”) The political alignment of the Coop’s BDS opponents is made clear on their website, which links to the reactionary pro-Israel group Stand With Us, known for having once pepper sprayed anti-occupation activists from the group Jewish Voice for Peace, along with having published an anti-BDS comic book that depicted Palestinians as vermin, in a throwback to Nazi propaganda.

“People here are always thinking about the implications of everything,” Mazor was quoted as saying in a 2001 academic article about the Coop. “That’s really nifty. I find that stam people [Yiddish for “ordinary people”] think about less and less.”

Those who argue that the Coop boycott campaign is anti-Semitic believe that BDS “singles out” Israel among all the other nations of the world that commit grave human rights violations; the only reason anyone would focus on Israel, the logic goes, is because they harbor prejudice against Jews. “Israel has a lot of problems, but so does China, so does America, so does a lot of the world,” Coop member Andrew Sepulveda told the Observer, voicing a common BDS counterargument. But must we rank wrongdoing nations before taking a stand? And is it not logical to single out Israel, given that U.S. foreign policy has already singled out Israel with over $3 billion in annual military aid? “Whenever we take a political action, we open ourselves up to accusations of hypocrisy and double standards,” BDS supporter Naomi Klein reminds us, “since the truth is that we can never do enough in the face of pervasive global injustice.”

“The reason we’re boycotting Israel and not Atilla the Hun is because there is an international call for boycott on Israel, and we should be honoring boycotts,” according to one Coop boycott supporter, who asked not to be named. “We shouldn’t be crossing picket lines. End of story. The reason we aren’t boycotting Atilla the Hun is because there is no international campaign to boycott Atilla the Hun. If the victims of Atilla the Hun ask for a boycott, then we should take that seriously.”

In a letter published in the Coop’s house organ, the Linewaiters’ Gazette, boycott organizers noted that the Coop has a long tradition of boycotts—of both individual companies and entire nations. A 20-year boycott of South African products began in 1973, the year of the Coop’s founding. There have been eleven Coop boycotts since 1989, including Coca-Cola, Domino Sugar, non-United Farm Worker grapes, and tuna.

Until recently, the matter of boycotting and divesting from Israel had only been raised in letters in the Linewaiters’ Gazette, where the debate has ebbed and flowed for over two years. But at a July 26th general meeting—a monthly gathering held at Brooklyn’s Congregation Beth Elohim—the grinding wheels of Coop democratic process began turning with the first face-to-face discussion of BDS. The question at hand was not whether or not the Coop should join BDS, but rather whether they should even hold a membership-wide vote. “Why not boycott Syria, Saudi Arabia, or Bahrain?” said Susan Tauber, one of the members advocating against the referendum, according to the Linewaiters’ Gazette’s recap of the general meeting.

Coop BDS organizers told me that almost all of the supporters who spoke at the meeting were Jewish and identified themselves as such. Still, Jewish opponents of BDS at the Coop show that the “progressive except Palestine” phenomenon in the American Jewish community has not gone away. While open to hosting the debate in his synagogue, Congregation Beth Elohim’s Rabbi Andy Bachman—generally considered a progressive rabbi—condemned the boycott efforts in a statement, writing, “BDS rhetoric reveals that the ultimate goal of the majority of its supporters is a dissolution of Israel as a Jewish state. This is simply untenable and unjust.” (Bachman was referring to BDS’ demand that Palestinian refugees be allowed to return to what is now the state of Israel in accordance with UN Resolution 194.) In the Linewaiters’ Gazette, BDS opponent Ruth Bollettino made the same argument, but in starker language. “The ‘right’ of Palestinian refugees to return means dismantling the Jewish state demographically, flooding it with Palestinian Arabs,” Bollettino wrote, revealing the racial fears underpinning the drive to maintain Israel as a Jewish-majority state. Her letter joined seven others against BDS, one in support of BDS, and an unrelated letter thanking a stranger for having returned $90 that had fallen out of the writer’s pocket at the Coop entrance.

Boycott supporters at the Coop would seem to be in the minority, if one were to judge by the letters in the Linewaiters’ Gazette or the Observer, which admitted its nonscientific methods while noting, “Finding pro-boycott members outside the co-op Monday night was no easy task.” But Melissa, a Brooklynite Coop member of eight years, had a different impression of the membership’s stand. “The silent majority of Coop members are probably uncertain about the issue of BDS,” she said, adding, “The challenge that we have is not to change the minds of people like Barbara Mazor.” Rather, it is to educate their fellow Coop members as to the need to honor the Palestinian BDS call.

Retired lawyer Dennis James, a Coop BDS organizer, noted the generational divide he sees in conversations about BDS—who shuts off, and who’s willing to engage. “Some of the older people, you can’t raise the subject. It’s verboten,” James said. “Whereas younger people might argue with you but they will talk about it.”

The other day, I met up with my friend Jesse Bacon at Tealounge, a coffeeshop across the street from the Coop. Despite having once seen a mouse scamper through the glass dessert case there, I ate part of Jesse’s cookie as we talked BDS shop. He’s an activist with Jewish Voice for Peace, working on their campaign to get the pension fund TIAA-CREF to divest from Motorola and other companies profiting from the occupation of the West Bank. Many TIAA-CREF holders are teachers and other professionals who tend to skew liberal in their politics. Working on the campaign has helped Jesse see how important it is to have a sympathetic population when advocating BDS in an institution. Jesse weighed in:

In a certain sense, the Coop campaign is dealing with liberal people who just want to get their crunchy, hippie food and be left alone. But the best things that movements critical of Israel can do is to push people to be consistent. Consistency is a great thing to offer people. It requires some explanation and education as to why this is part of your other values–why boycotting or divesting from Israel is an extension of them.

The cringe factor was high for both of us while reading the Observer’s anonymous source decry the Coop BDS campaign reaching into the heavily Jewish populated Park Slope, “the heart of Chaimtown.” At the same time, Jesse pointed out, “The fact that a BDS campaign is even going on in ‘Chaimtown’—the heart of the Jewish crunchy liberal establishment—whether or not this wins, it shows that this issue is everywhere now.”

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Be thankful, Chevy Avalanche. (PMfA)

A pack of new bike racks was just installed on uber-chic Smith Street in Carroll Gardens. And that can only mean one thing: Terror on the streets! More bike maniacs running amock. Cars fleeing in fear. Death and destruction on the streets of Brooklandia.

Actually, these bike racks could make life easier for drivers, too. The corner of Smith and Sackett streets is a notorious blind spot, according to a Brownstoner correspondent:

Problem is, drivers coming from Sackett Street can’t see around parked cars on the Southeast corner of the intersection, making it a blind corner. Cars tend to roll through the stop sign on Sackett Street, and at least 1 or 2 a year get t-boned by vehicles coming down Smith Street. This year they finally put up a ‘no standing’ sign for the two spots before the corner, but cars and trucks STILL park there!

Blame the bikes? (PMfA)

Now, we have bike racks putting an end to that. (Aside: See, cars don't follow the rules, either.) Local blogger Pardon Me for Asking has some pictures of the Smith Street street carnage, including this flipped SUV.

With the Prospect Park West bike lane lawsuit (maybe) behind us, perhaps New York drivers and bikers can start living in harmony. It's the pedestrians we really need to worry about.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Welcome to paradise. (dougtone/Flickr)

That's BroBo as in Bronx Bohemian, not Brooklyn Bohemian.

Not two weeks ago, the Daily News was informing us that City Island could well be the newest hipster haven (in a city that seems to be drowning in them), and now The Journal chimes in today. The paper notes that City Island has become popular with yuppies, as they replace the working class and rich. Those who used to ply the waters in jon boats and yachts are now sharing the island with terrestrial brethren more concerned with less—and more—salty things.

"I used to only sell marine supplies and hardware but now all that stuff has become antiques and memorabilia," said John Persteins, owner of Trader John on City Island Avenue. "There was always someone renovating or building their dream boat and that kept me in business because they bought stuff, but that doesn't happen so much anymore."

Some locals complain that as maritime activity has receded, the island has become "one big restaurant." The island dining scene certainly remains vibrant with restaurant staples such as the Black Whale and City Island Diner continuing to draw locals and visitors, while newcomers have joined their ranks.

Among the additions is Aggie's Roll, a farm-to-table venture opened in December by sisters Agatha and Margaret Biggart. The eatery has garnered a following for its lobster rolls, currently served out of a trailer while the restaurant is built next door.

Tschoke shops and restaurants, and not much else to speak of in terms of culture or economy. Yep, sure sounds like Brooklyn.

mchaban@observer.com  ::  Follow on Twitter @MC_NYC