» HADOUKEN « I don't know what's happening to New York but it's really weird
Everyone is a snowflake, I get it. However, for as homogenized as it may seem, there's something romantic about aspiring to--and eventually achieving--"a look."
Growing up an outer-borough guido in the 90s, I aspired to the New York look. Partly slick, partly raw, refined but capable of mixing it up and getting into trouble, the New York aesthetic was tough but endearing. Broken down into an algebra equation, it could be described as something along the lines of (√Wu-Tang – Inspectah Deck) + (Anthony Mason – ½(Crack Addiction)) / (Al Pacino) x (Ralph Lauren)².
Beyond the look was the attitude—the swagger, the confidence. Simply put, New York was ground zero for “the culture.”
We had hardened accents and used slang so codified an outsider could mistake a conversation among teens deciding the evening’s entertainment as a plot to rob the local bodega. We drake quarter waters, played handball, treated open fire hydrants (a.k.a. Johnny Pumps) as theme parks and wore the North Face bubble goose over Parasuco jeans. All of this permeated America's cultural exports: music, fashion, film--you name it.
Today, I’m not sure what New Yorkers do. In fact, I’m not sure there’s even such thing as “a New Yorker” anymore. Most of all, I'm positive New Yorkers no longer have "a look."
I've been lamenting the death of New York culture for some time now. Actually, I can pinpoint when these thoughts began creeping into my subconscious: November 2013, when the historic Elizabeth Street Garden in NoLIta first came under attack by real estate developers and City Council Member Margaret Chin. In November 2017, she ran for re-election against a certain Christopher Marte. His entire platform was built on saving the public garden. He lost the election by a measly 220 votes. In a district with close to 100,000 constituents, just over 20,000 voted.
It all became very clear to me: the city's transient population simply doesn't give a shit. Under the guise of "oh, that's New York for you," they've adopted a "roll with the punches" attitude and simply accept whatever the powers that be give them (they seem to like it best when the city shits on them--proverbially or literally, as in the pigeons--because, you know, that's so New York!). Who's to blame them? The vast majority of them will only live in the city for a few years anyways--never mind their current neighborhoods.
With some 200,000 residents leaving the city every year, this sort of migratory musical chairs allows me to make such an assumption. And it's sad. Not because we are losing contributing members to New York culture but because we are, for the most part, swapping out one apathetic group for another. Make a dollar, spend a dollar. Wake up, go to work, buy some stuff, sleep. E.B. White is rolling in his grave (though, one can argue that he predicted a turn for the worse in his legendary Here Is New York).
In contrast, I spent some time last week in Los Angeles. Don't get it twisted: I am not a fan of LA, and while I have some choice words for New York these days, it's still my home and a place that I love dearly. However, in LA, the city and its residents are clearly on to something. There is a certain pride in the air. The golden age of content creation is apparent by the relentless onslaught of television and Hollywood billboards. Co-working spaces and coffee shops are seemingly populated by young creatives who are actually trying to make it (as opposed to the Buster Bluth-esque privileged class in New York that are working on a variety of "projects," most of which will never get off the ground). Slackers who just want to enjoy nature live down by the beach, and they are joined in harmony by the growing diaspora of former Silicon Valley tech dudes (and dudettes, of course).
Perhaps most poignant, especially for the purpose of this rant, is the fashion. Currently, LA has a look. Actually, it has a few looks. Especially the men. Now, you (or I, really) may deride these looks as some sort of Nightclub Promoter Starter Kit™ or Confused Sartorial Skater™, but it's clear: the plaid flannels, coach's jackets, skin tight destroyed denim, baggy chinos, graphic t-shirts, boxy pullovers, silly hats, Vans and Dadcore accessories are having more of an influence on global fashion than anything coming out of New York right now. And it's been that way for the last few years. Just look at the most buzzed about brands in the world. How many are coming out of New York? I posit none. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, they have Amiri, Enfants Riches Déprimés, Rhude, Fear of God and countless (literally, I tried) streetwear and DIY upstarts. On top of that, many of the most exciting brands in Europe and Asia are, and have been, borrowing from this aesthetic for years.
In the interest of keeping this newsletter short (or really just preventing it from going on forever), I will stop here. If anyone wants to get into the details of the above, specifically that which relates to fashion, please hit me up either over e-mail or Twitter (@ntbro). In the meantime, I will continue to wonder how LA went from being chided as shallow and without any cultural significance outside of the movie biz (which is, at its core, mostly...fake) to more relevant than New York. But I'll never give up on New York. The tide will turn, eventually (hopefully?).
Yours,
Sullen in Soho
PS - I wonder whether people in LA vote in their local district elections...