The second bedroom has space for both Madeline and Borowitz’s teenage son, Max, who visits every other weekend. (Michael Sofronski)
POINT OF ORDER: The open living area features sleek, modern pieces — Borowitz actively dislikes clutter. Even his daughter’s play area near the window is kept tidy. (Michael Sofronski)
“If Don Draper had been frozen in a block of ice and woke up in this century, maybe he would pick out some of these pieces,” says comedian Andy Borowitz of the Jonathan Adler sectional and other “Mad Men”-esque pieces in his 2,000-square-foot classic six on Central Park West.
Unlike many other prewar apartments in the ’hood, the rental — which Borowitz, 52, shares with his wife, author Olivia Gentile, 36, and their 8-month-old daughter, Madeline — has an open, loft-like feel. A large foyer leads into an oversized living room which stretches into a spacious dining room.
Borowitz — who founded the Web site the Borowitz Report (borowitz-report.com) and who’ll appear with Alec Baldwin, Jeffrey Toobin and Judy Gold at the 92nd Street Y on Oct. 20 to discuss midterm-elections — deliberately opted for the minimalist decor. It’s in direct response to growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, in a house filled with antiques that he describes as “Victorian clutter.”
“If there’s stuff everywhere, it’s kind of oppressive,” Borowitz says.
Even Madeline’s play area in the living room is impeccably tidy, with cubbies to organize all her toys. It’s also one of Borowitz’s favorite places to spend time, in the Room & Board easy chair where he reads to her.
“I like to tell her stories where she’s the protagonist, since her name’s Madeline,” Borowitz says, noting that he borrows liberally from Ludwig Bemelmans’ famous literary character.
Borowitz is now working on an anthology of the 100 funniest American writers for the Library of America, but his interests also include a mild obsession with Napoleon and the lesser-known Napoleon III.
He even started a “Boney Club” with artist and friend Bruce McCall to discuss their shared fascination, but they quickly abandoned it after realizing “movies, sports and gossip” dominated the conversations.
The two men have remained close — they met when Borowitz moved to New York 15 years ago — and several paintings by McCall hang in the dining room. They include a 2006 New Yorker cover where the city’s skyline is being used as a Scrabble board, presumably by a higher power.
Another of McCall’s paintings, which imagines Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow by SUV, hangs in the master bedroom, which doubles as an office for the writer couple.
“Livy’s work requires much more concentration,” Borowitz explains of Gentile’s nonfiction writing. “I’m not an ideal officemate because I think I’m too chatty.”
The couple’s small metal desks are set up back to back and bring to mind office cubicles, albeit ones with a view of the park. They often work simultaneously, and Borowitz likes to imagine that they’re work pals.
“People say, ‘How can you stand being two writers living together, working together and being married to each other? Isn’t that too much?’ But I actually think it’s very hot if you just think you’re sleeping with your co-worker,” he says.
Borowitz and Gentile met four years ago at a book-exchange party held by a mutual friend. (He brought the novelization of “Snakes on a Plane,” while she offered the serious post-Vietnam book “The Things They Carried.”)She didn’t know about his frequent hosting at the Moth storytelling events or his popular satirical Web site, or that he co-created “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” but it was love at first sight.
They moved in together into Borowitz’s TriBeCa apartment, then married in 2008 and soon migrated uptown for Central Park and the kid-friendly atmosphere.
Along with taking advantage of the nearby park, “on Thursday nights, Andy and I try to go see a film at Lincoln Plaza or Lincoln Square and go to dinner,” Gentile says. “For new parents, we’re very up on the latest cinema.”
Borowitz explains this newfound freedom the couple enjoys: “[Madeline] was a very light sleeper, and that’s a very generous characterization of the first three months of terror.”
Madeline’s original room, technically the apartment’s “maid’s room,” was right next to the kitchen — leaving the couple to weigh their hunger against their desire for quiet in the early months.
“We’d rather starve than wake her up,” Gentile says.
They decided not to starve either, though, and assembled a mini-kitchen in their bedroom, complete with a microwave, coffeemaker and small fridge.
“It’s almost like we were staying in the Doubletree,” Borowitz recalls.
Madeline now time-shares the second bedroom with Borowitz’s son from his first marriage, Max, 15, who visits every other weekend. (When Max is there, Madeline goes back to her old room.)
“It’s like running a hotel,” Borowitz says. “We have to make sure she checks out in time for him to check in, because unlike a hotel, we can’t give him passes to the gym.”
Andy Borowitz’s favorite things
* The living room with its view of Central Park
* Daughter Madeline’s play area, where he reads stories to her
* The bedroom where he and his wife (both writers) work side-by-side
* A tower of humor books he’s referencing for a new anthology
* The Bruce McCall paintings