Good morning, pals. It's a stunning day and I'm looking forward to hanging with some good friends tonight and catching up.
As many of you know, I consider myself a New Yorker- I was not born here or raised here but in many ways I did grow up here when I moved right after college to this cuckoo town. I left for a big stint but now that I've been back for a few years, I can say that sometimes, I miss the city that I came to love. The changes that are happening here in Gotham leave much to be desired. In my once quiet and lovely Brooklyn neighborhood, the sound of cranes and jackhammers building yet another million dollar apartment building serve as my alarm clock. Since when did construction start at 7 am? When so much money is at stake, I suppose the early bird analogy is apt. I just wish they could fix the Brooklyn Bridge with as much gusto. What's happened to my New York?
I saw an Instagram photo this am of a discarded hypodermic needle, which, to the poster's great chagrin and horror was left "for their children" to step on or over or accidentally pick up. In New York City. A syringe. Imagine that.
In my old neighborhood of Soho (I was once a resident of a rent controlled tiny pad on 6th Avenue and Spring Street), every bastion of the neighborhood I remember is gone- sure, by the time I moved to Soho it was already a luxe mall, but there were nice little pockets of the old world- Caffe Tina, a lovely little coffee shop for all the old Italian dudes in the neighborhood is now gone. Milady's, a place where you could go in the winter time and warm yourself with a shot of Wild Turkey and a beer for cheap, gone. The Hair Box, a spot where neighborhood guys went to get a cheap shave and haircut and kibbutz a bit with the old man who ran the place, gone. And as we all know, the list goes on. I posted a piece on Facebook the other day from the Daily Beast which talked about Jeremiah Moss's blog, Jeremiah's Vanishing New York. The blog is for those of us who hate the constant closing of places we loved- most of them, crappy but uniquely New York. Places like the Holiday Lounge, Kim's Video. 5 Pointz. Pearl. All gone.
I had drinks with a friend the other night who I happened to bump into walking on Bowery. She said that she has no use for nostalgia in her life, and I really respect that. But I admit I am nostalgic for a New York that no longer exists, but not because I romanticize what it was, more because I don't love what it's become. Cleaning up crime is great, but did you have to take away all the heart and soul too?
There is no way I could say I prefer a New York where needles litter the street, but the fact that people are shocked when they see them is telling of a city that is no longer what I remember a city being- a little bit dangerous and gritty, with a deep sense of humanity at all turns. But then again, who needs humanity when you have Organic Avenue? I remember thinking a few weeks ago when in my very tiny local fish shop that it seemed unreasonable, almost hazardous to go inside because of all the strollers in the aisle, making grabbing some shrimp to go almost impossible. You can't even listen to headphones in my neighborhood, due to the acute and very real possibility that a 5 year old is going to help you meet your maker. Death by scooter is not the way I thought I'd go out. Since when did New York become more dangerous for adults than kids? You know it's true. I liked New York the way it was.
And whether you prefer an edgier New York or the more sanitized version that now exists, you can't argue with the fact that it's not just nostalgia that makes the New York of yore something to be missed- it's really that small businesses, the mom and pop, the heart and soul of our town, can't cut it any longer. I read sadly about the closing of Soup Burg, that dineresque bastion to middle class life on the Upper East Side having to shutter its doors after years of being a New York institution, because their landlord was, wait for it- quadrupuling their rent. If entrepreneurs and small business owners can't survive, then what will we have? That's what makes me sad about all of it- it's less about getting a cheap shot of whiskey and more about the characters that gave this place its own vibe- that those business owners are priced out of a city they dedicated their whole lives to serving makes me feel sick to my stomach.
I agree with my friend that nostalgia has little use in modern life- but it does not change the fact that I fell in love with a very different city.
I am aware that nothing stays the same, in life, in urbanomics, or otherwise. But I am a big believer in an if it ain't broke kind of approach to life, so why are we changing everything that was good just as it was? I did read with amusement the piece on two train lines being infested with bedbugs- things like this need to happen in New York to keep us all honest on the way home from Pilates.
And like everyone else over a certain age in this city, who remember a very different city than the one we live in now, we'll have to adapt to all of these changes and learn to survive in a city that we often don't understand or want to accept. We can still get great bagels, eavesdrop on hilarious conversations and couples arguing over nonsense, and see amazing art, performance, and beautiful people. I worry that a time will come soon that I will no longer be able to afford to live here, but for now I think I need to embrace some very Darwinian principles and find a way to evolve. That or me and my dive bar and mom and pop loving friends need to become pioneers and get out of Dodge. Surely there's a place for us if New York will no longer have use for our huddled masses? Sure there's hope in the horizon in the form of opportunities for the creative class in Sunset Park and some of the affordable housing coming our way. And we have a mayor who redecorated Gracie Mansion with the help of West Elm to ensure we all kind of know he is a man of the people. (Too bad it would have been a lot cooler if he did not go to a chain store to do so- patronizing small business would have been a much smarter move). I still believe in this city, I still love this city, and for now, I'm staying in this city. But it's harder than ever.
And that's what's up this leave well enough alone kind of Thursday in the 212. Yours, in don't go changin'. I can't help it, I miss New York. XO