Andrew and Kate also kicked off (or at least exemplified) a particular kind of late aughts / early 10s circular approach that paved the way for plenty of folks - raise the animals, butcher at a sister property, serve the meat, use hides for making bags, wool for knitwear. No 'no waste' but not much. Admirable and cool - but also: good business.
I have similar nostalgia of being a young gay thing living in Chelsea in the 90s. It was a specific time and place and vibe for a specific group of people that I haven't found anywhere else. The last time I was there, I quite literally, didn't recognize much of the place. It's been gone for so long that there are people having kids today that weren't born yet then. I suppose this happens all over to a lot of people as they are parts of social zeitgeists and cultural shifts. People, places and, of course, restaurants change. For them not to is stagnation and we all know that is sometimes worse.
My niece moved to NYC from the Midwest a few years ago. I asked her if she was greeted in the traditional way New Yorkers greet newcomers: by saying "You missed it. It's over." She laughed and said yes, she heard that constantly in her first few months.
As someone hearing about these changes from afar from you and other writers, I wonder at what point it stops being an inside joke. When is it really over?
Those days are over, that's for sure. I think there will be a new era at some point that will be looked at with fondness. At least I *hope* there will be.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how so much of nostalgia is really a longing for who we were rather than the places that disappear. It’s less about Williamsburg changing and restaurants closing, and a lot more about being 20-something without real worries or obligations.
Whenever I was out at glasslands late, I always used to wonder how people ended up living in such a cool neighborhood while I was walking back to the L. But now I know because there are all these warehouse clubs two blocks away from my kid’s preschool. It’s not nostalgia for all these institutions that have disappeared but the memory of a time of endless possibility.
"I tend to consider my own existence to be one long, mundane march towards whatever." LOL. I'm right there with you.
Mundane marchers, get in formation!
Ha! More like, "Mundane marchers, meander!"
You are always such a joy to read, Jason (even if you're touching on sad things). Thanks for another great entry.
Thank you, sir! It means a lot that you keep reading my stuff.
Andrew and Kate also kicked off (or at least exemplified) a particular kind of late aughts / early 10s circular approach that paved the way for plenty of folks - raise the animals, butcher at a sister property, serve the meat, use hides for making bags, wool for knitwear. No 'no waste' but not much. Admirable and cool - but also: good business.
I never made it but I now know what the Bedford subway stop scene is like
I have similar nostalgia of being a young gay thing living in Chelsea in the 90s. It was a specific time and place and vibe for a specific group of people that I haven't found anywhere else. The last time I was there, I quite literally, didn't recognize much of the place. It's been gone for so long that there are people having kids today that weren't born yet then. I suppose this happens all over to a lot of people as they are parts of social zeitgeists and cultural shifts. People, places and, of course, restaurants change. For them not to is stagnation and we all know that is sometimes worse.
My niece moved to NYC from the Midwest a few years ago. I asked her if she was greeted in the traditional way New Yorkers greet newcomers: by saying "You missed it. It's over." She laughed and said yes, she heard that constantly in her first few months.
As someone hearing about these changes from afar from you and other writers, I wonder at what point it stops being an inside joke. When is it really over?
Those days are over, that's for sure. I think there will be a new era at some point that will be looked at with fondness. At least I *hope* there will be.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how so much of nostalgia is really a longing for who we were rather than the places that disappear. It’s less about Williamsburg changing and restaurants closing, and a lot more about being 20-something without real worries or obligations.
Whenever I was out at glasslands late, I always used to wonder how people ended up living in such a cool neighborhood while I was walking back to the L. But now I know because there are all these warehouse clubs two blocks away from my kid’s preschool. It’s not nostalgia for all these institutions that have disappeared but the memory of a time of endless possibility.
Dang.