350 square feet. That's how big my old Chinatown apartment was. I lived there with an ex-boyfriend, by myself, then with my current boyfriend. I cried on the couch, binged ice cream and cereal in the kitchen, and repaired many leaks from the pipes in the bedroom. But through all of the high-highs and low-lows that came along with cramped Chinatown living, the predominant feeling while looking back on it all is one of excitement and love. This was, after all, the first spot I got to call mine — all mine. Which is why I was happy to store jewelry in the spice cabinet and handbags where the pots and pans should be. Yep, it was 350 square feet, but I used and loved every single inch of it.