"Spread love. It's the Brooklyn way."

When you wake up to “Juicy”, you know it’s a BK day. Brisk breezes and long afternoons are just right for running around the county of Kings. And as yesterday's pictures suggest, small adventures are par for the course.

A little stretch of Union Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues boasts some of the prettiest homes in the ‘hood. I liked this one best. It has a turret and balconies just perfect for clandestine rendezvous and swooning sighs.

I can never quite “get” that uniquely Brooklyn hipster look, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. Exhibit A: my somber black leggings. But more importantly…

Every girl needs a couple Jacks in her arsenal: Jack Rogers and Jack Purcell. Now that sandal weather is behind us, I choose the latter for easy escapes. They’re currently on sale at J. Crew.

B.F. Goodrich named this kick after Canadian National Badminton Champion John Edward Purcell. He hung on to the title in 1929 and 1930 and in 1933 was declared world champion. His namesake sneaker was born two years later and, now owned by Converse, continues to look so fresh and so clean against the dirtiest subway floors.

Enough about shoes.

I wasted wiled away the afternoon at Union Street’s Tea Lounge, home of Brooklyn’s most dedicated laptop-laden loafers and baristas with a Midas touch. They gave our mochaccinos some short-lived flair.

All that caffeine and chocolate jump-started my infamous appetite. I met one of my best friends at AOC Bistro for a late lunch/early dinner. (Dunch? Linner?) Their ratatouille reminded me of my mom’s recipe and served as a launch pad for conversation about the fickle, messy nature of the boys we tend to date. Nothing pairs better than food, love, and long talks. On each table perched a fresh cut fleur. (For dessert I polished my high school level French.)

After devouring feuille brique et salade, we wandered back to the Tea Lounge and didn’t leave until after dark! Naturally we got lost. Also naturally, I didn’t really mind. I love stepping off the 3 train at the Grand Army Plaza stop, and trying to relocate felt equally inspired. Nothing says “Welcome to Brooklyn!” like a massive, baroque arc comme la Triomphe.

Another field trip across the East River commences this afternoon, when my usual suspects and I hit the Brooklyn Brewery. Word on street says it isn’t worth it, but that only stokes my interest.