Who says you need a big apartment to live large? Mary Tyler Moore’s fabulous studio apartment is proof that you don’t. The high-beamed ceilings and Palladian windows, which lead to a balcony, give it the open, bright, welcoming feeling of a loft space. It’s no surprise that Mary and Rhoda argue over it in the first episode. That’s an apartment worth fighting for. Entertainment Weekly called it “TV’s most famous bachelorette pad.” Its eclectic, shabby-chic décor manages to be both classic and modern—just like Mary. Perhaps the most notable thing about Mary’s stylish studio apartment is that it is hers and hers alone. The wooden M on the wall above her typewriter ensures that you don’t forget that.
Located on the third floor of a Queen Anne Victorian in Minneapolis, though it was actually shot on a soundstage in Hollywood, Mary’s apartment is part country cottage and part funky crash pad. The shag rug is pure ’70s, as are the brown velvet couches, upholstered chairs, and the sunken living room. The french armoire, oak dining set, bay windows, exposed-brick wall, and woodburning Franklin stove add classic touches. She even has a to-die-for walk-in closet leading to a never-seen bathroom. (Perhaps the inspiration for Carrie Bradshaw’s walk-in closet on Sex and the City?) Unlike most of the picture-perfect artificial homes in other sitcoms of the era, Mary’s apartment feels like a real, lived-in room. It’s the details that make it believable: the powder-blue phone (rotary dial, of course!) and the wicker furniture.
The apartment is a lot like Mary herself: a blend of old and new, with lots of distinctive touches, like that Toulouse-Lautrec poster and the 1960s space-age lamp by the window. Of course, as with any real apartment, over time, Mary’s apartment changes. The set designers reused and reupholstered her furniture and rearranged her knickknacks. One season she’s got a baker’s rack for her plants. Another season, she’s got a wall of built-in bookshelves. But it all feels like home.
LIFE LESSON:
Make the Most of a Small Space
Even though it’s a small space, Mary’s apartment doesn’t seem cluttered. Somehow, it manages to be chock-full of cool things without seeming messy. It’s like a ship with a little cubby for everything. To make the most of her small apartment, Mary relies on some time-tested “small-space solutions,” including “dual-purpose” or “double-duty” furniture, such as the foldout couch, which turns into her bed. Here are some other small-space tricks that we can borrow from Mary:
- Take advantage of vertical space: The tall shelving and hanging pot rack in Mary’s kitchen help pack a lot of cookware into a small space. (Granted, she doesn’t have to actually stock food or cook in that tiny kitchen.) She’s got a paper towel dispenser attached to the underside of her kitchen cabinets to clear counter space (for the spice rack).
- Create room dividers for privacy: Mary has a stained glass window in her kitchen, which can be pulled down for private conversations. It’s almost like a confessional!
- Find creative storage solutions: Mary’s got the coolest built-in bookcase built into the raised platform surrounding her sunken living room. There’s also built-in shelving beneath the pass-through to the kitchen.
- Set aside a landing pad: A landing pad is a space—sometimes a rack or a desk or a shelf—where you can drop your keys and wallet (or phone, nowadays) when you land at home. That way you’ll know where they are when you’re ready to take off. Mary’s landing pad is a handy shelf right next to the door, just where it should be for maximum usage. At one point, Mary has a freestanding wooden coatrack.
Rhoda’s attic apartment is microscopic compared to Mary’s place, which is saying something considering Mary lives in a studio! No wonder Rhoda is so eager to claim the apartment before Mary does. Like Mary’s place, Rhoda’s apartment has a distinctive, eclectic style but with a décor that’s as artsy and bohemian as Rhoda herself. With its hot-pink walls, fringe lampshade, psychedelic wall art, and a beaded curtain where a door should be, Rhoda’s studio apartment is one part hippie and one part pigsty. Instead of a closet, she uses a clothing rack. Rather than a foldout sofa bed like Mary’s, Rhoda sleeps on her couch. In fact, her couch is the only place to sleep, or sit, in her apartment, aside from the nearly carnivorous beanbag chair. When Rhoda’s mother sits in it, it nearly devours her. Speaking of eating, there’s nowhere to eat at Rhoda’s place. Her “kitchen” consists of a hot pot and minifridge. Then again, she’s always on a diet and seems to live on cottage cheese.
LIFE LESSON:
You Can Entertain in a Small Space
Just because you live in a small apartment doesn’t mean you can’t entertain, though it will create some unique challenges. Mary manages to host a slew of parties in her studio apartment. The parties themselves are always disastrous, but that has nothing to do with the size of her apartment! It’s a testament to Mary’s optimism that she continues to throw parties—and a tribute to how much her friends appreciate her that they continue to show up. No doubt, there’s also an element of curiosity since everyone wants to see what will go wrong! For instance, consider the time Mary invites a congresswoman to dinner. Sue Ann swoops in to help her but, as usual, only makes things worse. The guests are due at eight o’clock, but Sue Ann insists her prized veal Prince Orloff must be served at exactly eight o’clock: “If we don’t eat at eight o’clock, we might as well take my delicious dinner and flush it down the toilet,” she says. “Mary, dear, do you have any idea what happens if you let veal Prince Orloff stay in the oven for too long? He dies.”
Well, okay then. Let’s eat. One more problem: there are exactly six servings of veal, and Lou’s got a big appetite—he took three servings!—and Rhoda brought along a surprise guest, Steve Waldman (a young Henry Winkler), a coworker who was just fired. Mary pulls Mr. Grant aside to explain the situation. There’s only enough for six people, and he took three servings. “Say, you know what, I’m not as hungry as I thought I was,” Mr. Grant says as he scoops up the extra food on his plate and plops it back in the serving dish. Being polite, the congresswoman pretends not to notice. Well, Sue Ann had promised that the dinner would be “a feast to remember.” And it certainly is!
Mary can’t say that Lou didn’t warn her. He was reluctant to come to the dinner party in the first place, telling Mary, “You give rotten parties. It’s not that I don’t have a good time at your parties, Mary. I’ve had some of the worst times in my life. Agony. My wife and I broke up at one of your parties, you remember? Not that I’m holding your party responsible, you understand, but it certainly didn’t help.” He’s got a point. Everything that can go wrong does at Mary’s parties: Ted and Georgette get into a fight and stop speaking, Murray gets sick, there’s a blackout, or Georgette gives birth! Still, Mary doesn’t let her small apartment prevent her from entertaining (unfortunately).
LIFE LESSON:
Moving Isn’t Easy, but It’s Sometimes Good for You
By season 6, Mary’s in a rut. Rhoda has moved back to New York, where she’s married on her spin-off show Rhoda, and Phyllis has left for San Francisco (and her spin-off show Phyllis). Mary gets a letter from Phyllis saying she went swimming with a bunch of seals, got a new job, and is making new friends. Our regularly chipper Mary is feeling down. She’s got nothing exciting to report back to Phyllis. “She’s dying to find out what’s new with me,” Mary tells Georgette. “Gee, how depressing. It was bad enough with just Rhoda. Now I’ve got two friends telling me about their new lives, their new jobs, new friends.”
Georgette states what the producers were probably thinking at the time: “This house sure seems empty without Rhoda and Phyllis here.” Mary starts to feel like maybe she needs a change of her own. It’s been six whole years since she moved to Minneapolis. To mix things up a little, she dyes her hair blonde. But that doesn’t seem to work. Sue Ann helps Mary redecorate her apartment, but Mary soon realizes that “it’s not my furniture that needs rearranging. It’s my life.” She contemplates getting a new job, but she loves her job at the newsroom. So instead, she decides to move to a new apartment. That’s one way to get out of a rut.
Maybe new surroundings will be good for her. Sure, moving’s a drag, but it rewires the brain and gives you a new way of looking at things—at least that’s what studies show. It’s a way of rebooting your life with new surroundings, a new commute to work, and new neighbors. Best of all, as Mary tells the work gang, her new apartment building has a swimming pool and a tennis court. Her cute studio apartment in the charming Victorian definitely didn’t have either of those perks. Just like the move to Minneapolis, Mary’s move to her high-rise apartment is the next step for a woman making her own way through the world—with the help of her friends.
The move provides a change of scenery for the character. But, in reality, there was another practical reason for the move. The family who lived in the actual house where the producers had shot the exteriors for Mary’s apartment in 1970 was tired of fans showing up and asking if Mary was around. In 1973, when the production returned for additional exterior shots, the family draped a huge “Impeach Nixon” sign over the front of the house. (This was during Watergate.) The producers got the message. Mary would move.
The show’s updated opening would feature the outside of Mary’s new apartment building instead of the house at 2104 Kenwood Parkway in Minneapolis. Still, that didn’t stop the fans from coming. In 1988, when a couple bought the famous television house, they had never seen an episode of the show before and didn’t understand the significance. They had some regrets about buying the house once they were facing sometimes as many as thirty tour buses a day to see “where Mary lived.” Even fifty years later, fans continue to show up to pay tribute to the house that Mary made famous. The actual house, a single-family home with nine bedrooms and nine bathrooms in 9,500 feet of living space—no problem entertaining there!—sold for around $1.5 million.
Fans don’t remember Mary’s new apartment as fondly or as vividly—and who can blame them? She doesn’t live there nearly as long, and let’s face it, it’s not as cool as her old place. Sure, she’s got a fireplace and a balcony, but it lacks the character of her old bachelorette pad in the Victorian house. No walk-in closet or sunken living room or galley kitchen with stained glass window divider. More importantly, it doesn’t have Rhoda or Phyllis. One thing it does have: a bedroom. “Yes, I have my very own bedroom! You don’t know how tired I was getting of opening and closing that convertible sofa. Now I’ve got my own bedroom. It’s so exciting,” she tells Ted and Georgette and Lou and Sue Ann when they stop by to see the new place. (“Just wait ’til you get a bed!” Sue Ann jokes.) Before heading to dinner, Mary sends her friends ahead so she can have a moment to herself in her new place. She’s got something she needs to do on her own. She hangs her iconic wooden M on the wall in her new kitchen, marking her new territory.
Later that night, after dinner, they return to her apartment, which is completely unfurnished. But that doesn’t stop them from celebrating. They sit on the carpeting and drink champagne out of plastic cups. Mary’s feeling sentimental. “I guess it’s only natural to move into a new place and feel that way about your old place. I remember I felt that way about my old place when I moved from my old old place. But with all you guys here, it’s beginning to feel like home already!”
That’s another good life lesson: home is where your friends and family are. And just like that, Mary’s out of her rut and back to being her usual cheery self.