I’m Not a Cat Lady

Saying New York Is Over: Over.

Another day, another facile New York Times Styles trend piece. Sadly, Eric Konigsberg's eloquent piss-take of the perma-craze known as absinthe did not herald a new day and a more discerning voice for Times trend reporting.

Written by Alex Williams—whose sole purpose seems to be tarting up obvious old tropes with a few fresh quotes from random twentysometings, usually delivered by "e-mail message" (see the one about how nobody keeps their New Year's resolutions, or the one about how conspicuous consumption is out of fashion, or the one about how it's dangerous to email when drunk, or dozens more like 'em)—now tries to recycle the classic chestnut that New York is over. What with all the layoffs in New York–centric industries like finance and real estate and publishing and advertising and all, New York ain't what it used to be.

There is probably some truth in this, and indeed, Williams begins to build the argument by stringing  together a few factoids and a bunch of unrelated quotes, like one from some guy who claims that Sixth and 55th was deserted on a recent Tuesday morning, and some girl who proclaims that "there is a sense that the thrill of paying $20 for a cocktail is over," and some other guy who says the city is “definitely shedding whatever New York was a few years ago”… whatever that was.

But then, after several more corroborations regarding shuttered Broadway shows and storefronts and constructions sites, comes this: "Can a city be considered 'over,' like Pete Doherty?" Okay, first of all: Pete Doherty? What's he got to do with anything? (A) He's not a New Yorker; he hasn't even visited lately; and (B) he's not over—just because he's not big in America, where he's not allowed in thanks to all those crack convictions, doesn't mean he's over.* Why not "over like Rudy Guiliani" or "over like Sarah Jessica Parker's marriage," or "over like saying 'saa-weeet!'", or, for that matter, "over like absinthe"?

Clearly Williams is grasping here, perhaps trying to best Konigsberg's clever allegorical mélange a couple of weeks earlier:

"If absinthe were a band, it would be Interpol, third-hand piffle masquerading as transgressive pop culture. If absinthe were sneakers, it would be a pair of laceless Chuck Taylors designed by John Varvatos for Converse. If it were facial hair, it would be the soul patch. If absinthe were a finish on kitchen and bath fixtures, it would be brushed nickel."

Over like Pete Doherty. Not even close.

But perhaps the most irritating of all is how with that sentence, Williams then turns the argument around on a dime. Is New York over? Nah! People are always saying that! You know, fictional people, like Kristen Johnson on Sex and the City that time, like, five years ago. Oh, and Joan Didion,way back in 1967. Who, by the way, still lives here. So you know that 1,000 words I just used up making the case that New York is over? All bullshit! Hah-hah!

And this is what these NYT trend pieces always do. Posit the question, string together a load of quotes that support the case, and then zap the reader with a bunch of "on the other hand" scenarios. Don't stick with the courage of your convictions or anything like that, NYT writers. Go ahead: Be wishy-washy!

photo courtesy of Jeremiah's Vanishing New York. And let's have a moment of silence for Love Saves the Day, which may just be a throwback to another era but you know what? It was a really great era to be in NYC.

* I'm sorry but that really struck a nerve: I happen to be a huge fan, and I'm pissed off that I can't watch the new documentary 24 Hours With Pete Doherty showing this week on UK's MTV.

I Remember You Well in the Chelsea Hotel

According to the excellent Living With Legends: Hotel Chelsea Blog, the Bard Family, who have managed the legendary Chelsea Hotel since the 40s, have been forced out by their board of directors, and the hotel’s manager, Stanley Bard, tossed out the door after 50 years. The new management group are the same folks who backed the conversion of Covenant House into the obnoxious South Beach resort-like Maritime Hotel and Richer Meier’s overrated, soulless glass towers on Perry Street.

It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: No good whatsoever will come of this.

Horsies Go Bye-Bye

These are just two sad stories about the all-too-frequent-lately demise of various New York institutions: The Claremont Riding Academy near Central Park, Manhattan’s only riding academy and the nation’s last standing livery stable, built in 1892; and the 66-year-old Empire Roller Rink, “Brooklyn’s ONLY roller rink,” according to its website.

Two establishments, worlds apart, one thing in common: They're over. Each is closing for very different reasons. The Claremont, claims its owner, Paul Novograd, simply became too expensive to run, and riding in the park especially with all them pesky joggers and Bugaboo-weilding parents claiming entitlement to commandeer the bridle path. (Plus, he got $11 million for the landmark building. Won’t it make awesome condos?) The Empire, it seems, saw one too many shootings outside. Kids today, huh?

Shutterings of New York institution seem to occur at least once a week lately. Does this happen in Paris or London or even San Francisco? I’m betting no.

images courtesy of Gothamist and citilore.org.

Coming Soon To a Neighborhood Near Me

Just as I thought things couldn't get any worse in the Six Flags of Shopping 'n' Nightlife otherwise known as the Meatpacking District, along came this announcement that a colossal new Apple Store is all set to open on the corner of 14th Street and Ninth Avenue, mere blocks from my house.

The megaboom heats up again and my lease is up in February. Help?

For a full analysis of the civilization-ending nightmare this new development portends, see Gridskipper.

photo courtesy of psfk.com

Chelsea Neighborhood Watch Part II

Here's the latest view of that entire block that was ripped down on Eighth Avenue between 16th & 17th Streets.

Hmmm. Must be nice for all those people whose windows face south, they're suddenly enjoying  unfettered sunlight. Just in time for the nice weather, too! They'd better enjoy it while they can, heaven knows what monstrosity is being planned for that huge chuck of space.

It will probably be something like what happened here, a block north on the southwest corner of 18th. In a few months it went from this...

to this...

So what fresh hell is in store for us? Well looky there! See that sign? Who do you think is fixin' to join us in the neighborhood, kids?

And here's me hoping it would be a gourmet cheese shop.

Calm Before the Storm

So tomorrow we're supposed to have The Storm of the Millennium or something and we're all gonna die. Well maybe not, but Mayor Bloomberg has advised us not to leave the house. So here's a celebration of the brave cherry blossoms, which, sadly, have have decided to bloom just in time to be drowned. I hope that by tomorrow night, they haven't turned into mulch.

Chelsea Neighborhood Watch

 

Sometime late last year I started noticing that every time I left my house, I got a new shock. Yet another establishment that had been in my neighborhood since way before I moved here nearly a decade ago--restaurant, bodega, stationers, florist--was gone. Establishments come and go in neighborhoods, that's New York, but this was something else. Places started disappearing in entire blocks, domino-like, beginning on one corner and sweeping all the way along to the next.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on: I mean, it's going on all over town. Longtime leases on rows of storefronts collectively reach their expiry dates, rents are jacked up by 30 percent, Starbucks and Jamba Juice and Duane Reade move in, crumbling pre-war tenements are torn down en masse, replaced by cookie-cutter glass-box condos, yada yada. Yes, the whole of Manhattan is turning into midtown.

It started to bother me on so many levels. My local hardware store disappeared, forcing me to walk an extra few blocks out of my way for some nails. If I need any special stationery items, I have to go to a Staples. Places that had served as personal landmarks vanished overnight, disrupting my sense of order; I began mourning for them even if I'd never once set foot inside.

Even worse, once signage on a former gift shop/picture framer/laundromat is removed and reconstruction underway, I'm struck with instant amnesia. I'm not alone--just yesterday I was walking past the relatively new Chelsea Custom Kitchens, on the southeast corner of Eighth Avenue and 18th Street, and I overheard a guy say to his friend, "What used to be there again?"

I happen to remember what used to be there: A perky little home decor shop called Details. It had all kinds of lovely things for the bathroom and the kitchen: glasses, Japanese teapots, shaggy bathroom mats, candles, toiletries, curtains, you name it. It seemed perfect for Chelsea--I mean, it stocked designer dog dishes! What was the problem?

I guess it says everything about what this neighborhood is turning into if a place that sells kitchenware is replaced by a place that sells entire kitchens.

Here's a now-expired Chelsea stalwart, LightForms, whose demise made way for two new friendly neighborhood essentials: Some men's clothing emporium and a Twatberry!*

* only twats frequent Pinkberry, ergo...

Anyway, since last October I've been keeping a little photo journal of a couple of stretches on Eighth Avenue between 14th and 23rd, just to track and marvel at (and lament over) their metamorphoses.

Here's the view of the west side block of Eighth Avenue between 16th & 17th Streets last October, the bottom half of which was decimated in one fell swoop. It had a sketchy nightclub on the corner; a bar/restaurant that featured cajun food and live New Orleans jazz; Angelo's pizzeria, a tobacco store; the Chelsea Grill; and beauty/ grooming salon The Station, complete with sad relocation notices. Click thumbnails to enlarge.

Then:

A few weeks ago:

Now:

Watch this space.

Spring Equinox in NYC

Okay so the offical Spring Equinox was four days ago, but one of the signs that spring really has arrived in NYC is the rush to eat and drink al fresco. Especially in some really cool spot like the Shake Shack. Because nothing says "Hey, let's grab a nice, juicy burger outdoors!" than a damp, chilly grey day.

Sure, it wasn't as cold as it's been in the last couple of weeks, but it's colder than it was two days ago, when it was in the 60s. Today it was in the mid-40s, tops. Not cold enough for a hat, scarf and gloves, perhaps, but too cold to stand in a line about 100 people long. For a HAMBUGER.

I mean, look at these people!

Wait, there's more.

I had to go to the back of the line for a closer look.

Look at that guy with the yellow suitcase. Did he fly in especially to eat here today?

Seriously, the burgers at the Shake Shack aren't that good. I've had one and, frankly, it gave me a  stomach ache. Gave three out of four of us a stomach ache, in fact; the one who didn't get a  stomach ache didn't order the burger.

But I don't care how good a burger is, it is not worth standing in a line like this in 40-odd chilly degrees for. Yet this kind of inexplicable behavior seems to be happening more and more every day in this city. Who are these people? And what am I doing sharing a city with them?

I guess we know who they are: These are the folk who are filling up all those new luxury condos spreading around New York like mold and robbing the city of its esoteric feel. People with no imagination or taste, happy to follow the crowd while believing they're actually leading the pack. Nobody's lining up here for the burgers, they're lining up for the bragging rights. "Hey, been to the Shake Shack yet? We went last Saturday. Oh, yeah, it's open. Had the burger. It's the best."

Yeah right, dude. Totally worth waiting for an hour in the cold for. Now let's go chase that burger with a cupcake from the Magnolia. They're the best.