“There were ten people here already this morning,” says Dean, a doorman who works across from 20 North Moore Street. It’s around 11 a.m. on one of the first warm days in months, on one of the loveliest blocks in Tribeca, as we stand there together, staring uneventfully at the co-op where John F. Kennedy Jr. bought a loft in 1994. “They come with their cameras and they’re all dressed like that woman.” Dean means, of course, Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, who lived there with Kennedy until their deaths in 1999. There had always been a few Kennedy acolytes hanging around the block, Dean says, but that number has ballooned since Ryan Murphy’s Love Story premiered in February. Most of the people making the pilgrimage are women in their 30s and 40s, he adds, and the attention on the address now rivals the street’s other attraction — the Ghostbusters firehouse.
It seems the city is caught up in Love Story mania. In addition to the look-alike contests, Hulu account holders have been flocking to each of the show’s locations to take pictures or just gawk, whether it’s the lightsmaxxing Indian restaurant Panna II where on the show the couple have their first date, or Bubby’s, which, on the show and in real life, happens to be around the corner from where I’m chatting with Dean, so I head there next.
While Love Story seems to take some wild liberties, the couple did frequent the diner on Hudson Street. A server working that morning tells me that more people have definitely started coming in since the show first aired — the weekends are especially busy. “A husband told me he was bringing his wife to eat here because she loved the show,” she says of recent traffic.
A few blocks away, at the Odeon, the two hosts I talk to are less sure of an impact. They’re usually booked at all times anyway, they say. “We’re as famous as JFK Jr.,” one adds. What they have seen, though, is more people writing notes in their reservation requests to be seated at the same table that John and Carolyn preferred. (Neither host knows what table that might be, if it even exists.) Before moving on, I ask if they like the show. “When I saw it I was like, It’s not crowded enough,” one says. “It was empty in front of the host stand but usually we have 50 people standing there.”
On to C.O. Bigelow, the 187-year-old apothecary that has apparently been mobbed with a particular kind of buyer since a 2023 TikTok post claimed that this was where Bessette got her French tortoiseshell headbands. When I arrive, it’s early, but there’s still a steady stream of customers, though nothing crazy. The employees working there say there has definitely been an influx, and like at Bubby’s, the weekends are especially bad. Sometimes the headbands, which go for $36, sell out. “But there’s always people here for CBK,” one of the workers tells me, “so it’s hard to tell if it’s because of the show.”
I spot and subsequently profile a pair of women holding iced coffees as headband-seeking types. Indeed they are. “I’m obsessed with history in general and the Kennedys and all of that,” says Jennifer Spillane, dark haired and wearing a green quilted coat. “Carolyn is iconic.” Spillane and her friend — both born in the ’90s, both living in New York — stopped in to look at headbands during a shopping excursion. “I’m learning so much more, especially about her as a person,” Spillane says of the show’s influence. “I loved how private she was, that’s sort of her brand. I’m doing a deep dive on Pinterest and TikTok and all that.” A lady in a walker seems annoyed as she squeezes past us, which is understandable because in addition to being a fantasy location for people who follow Lost J.Crew on Instagram, this is also a working pharmacy.
Panna II on First Avenue, it seems, is where the real crowds are. The longtime NYU haunt (and possibly made-up date destination for the couple) has always been popular among people who location tag themselves on social media thanks to its lights-strewn dining room, but it has seen an especially big bump because of the show.
When I arrive right at opening, owner Boshir Khan is standing outside. “Oh yes, we’ve had lines,” Khan says. “There were people waiting all the way up to that tree over there,” he says, gesturing down the block. Panna II is the last surviving South Asian restaurant on the block from the 1980s and Khan says every little bit of business helps. He estimates they’ve gotten a 10 to 25 percent boost since Love Story came out. (He insists that the couple did frequent the restaurant back when his parents owned it.) “Last weekend, people came from Dallas just because of the show,” he says. “I have a couple reservations at the end of this month from people who made them from out of state.” Are his new customers perhaps wearing camel coats and oval sunglasses, I ask? Khan pauses to think. “On the weekends, yes.”
