There was a time when my coffee table was my most prized piece of furniture. Before the days of "shelfies", it served as the focal place of my living room, a curated display of my 20-something aspirations. On top of the rectangular sheet of glass perched on legs made of industrial copper pipes sat a couple sleek books -- Design*Sponge at Home to showcase my modern aesthetic and Edible Selby because I loved the idea of going on culinary adventures around the world -- along with an assortment of issues of The New Yorker that I'd tell myself I would sit down and read very soon.