When My Brooklyn Apartment Became a Warehouse: The Real Cost of Buying From China Let me paint you a picture. It’s a Tuesday evening in my Williamsburg loft. I’m surrounded by cardboard boxes. Not just a few. We’re talking a small fortress of them, stacked precariously near my vintage Eames chair. One contains a silk robe that feels like water. Another holds ceramic planters with hairline cracks. A third? A “designer-inspired” handbag that smells faintly of factory glue. This, my friends, is the aftermath of my three-month deep dive into buying products from China. Not for a business. Not for resale. Just for me, Chloe, a freelance graphic designer with…