Whenever I walk around I’m always looking. I’m always curious. I’m always imagining, speculating. And tonight a house on my street caught my attention. The lights were on, the curtains were up and big boxes of records had been left by their bins.

Within half an hour I was back outside their door, but this time on the opposite side of the street. I was armed with my iPod, speakers, a big sign and a box of things from my room. But most importantly, this time I wasn’t alone. My friends were alongside me. Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party, right?

We flicked on our music, lit some candles and laid our stash out in the road. A vintage picnic set caught my eye, as did a newish looking guitar amp. Our meet and treat party had begun. Anyone could join – the only entry policy was to take part in our trash and treasure trade off.

Quickly curtains began to twitch, curiosities were pricked and strangers began to gather. In an hour our inside-out house party had taken shape, with chairs, old school comics even vintage shoes littering the street, people dancing, drinking and chatting amongst them.

But as items came and went, the one thing I was after proved much more elusive.

But patience can be a virtue. As the party hit its peak, with music and voices floating through the street, the door finally opened. Out came a girl, carrying with her the box of old vinyl that had originally inspired me only hours before. I rifled through, pulling out classics and laughing about the tracks that were best left forgotten.

But soon someone else joined my search. A total stranger. But when you’ve got music in common, do you need any other introductions? He’d been walking past but had been too intrigued to walk away. He’d come empty handed, but the black and grey I Heart NY t-shirt he was wearing caught my eye.

As the night drew in, people faded away and the street was left bare. Every item was re-homed, re-loved or re-appreciated by its original owner. No trace of my unconventional street party could be seen. Unless of course you were to count the t-shirt I’m wearing in bed as I type this. I do love New York, after all.

Me