I admit it, I’m a Manhattanite elitist.
Last weekend I spent my Saturday night in Williamsburg with my friend Gigi. I always joke that when I go to BK, I’m about re-live some form of a GIRLS episode. Mind you, a prior visit to a Bushwick warehouse for a blacklight paint party was pretty reminiscent of GIRLS season 1. (Alas I digress. 😉 ) For the record I’d like to say I love Brooklyn and its proximity to Manhattan makes a short underwater subway ride feel like a trip to a new city. The view is beautiful, the food is high quality but laid back, and statement pieces abound in BK boutiques. Cobble Hill, Carroll Gardens and Park Slope are trop charmant.
But I’d like to focus on Williamsburg. It’s the new hotspot. Hipster central. Some areas are more expensive than the EV and LES. Mind you I love Bedford Ave and Smorgasbord on a Saturday is the cutest. I feel like people are slightly warmer in the burg. The vibe is grittier but more real.
But there’s something about Williamsburg that escapes me and makes me slightly unsettled. I find it hard to describe but I feel like I’m perpetually out of place. I do love the edginess but maybe I feel somewhat uncomfortable because I’m just too mainstream. LES edgy is enough for me. Don’t judge me Williamsburg. I like getting my GQ catalog and shopping at my favorite stores in Soho for NEW clothes. Am I just a prissy betch or does anyone else share this view?
Williamsburg at night just exudes a grungy, somewhat melancholic aura. We were at Glasslands last Saturday and I literally had an out of body moment and thought to myself where am I? We were all just watching a DJ perform, no one was really dancing, and I was living in the epitome of a sausage fest. Not to mention BK just has more trolls. Oops, real talk.
Maybe I’m also slightly self-conscious because of the hipster factor. Although I’m far from being a counterculture hipster, I always tell my friends that I’d love to date a hipster. He should have a few artsy tattoos, could play in a band and serenade me better than Dan Smith, and could even have a beard. I don’t think it would work out long-term but maybe a year-long tryst would be ideal. Maybe I react to the fact that I don’t think a hipster would ever go for me since I’m just a different breed of gay. Damn you Williamsburg hipsters, just love me!
Feel free to dispute my POV, I am a hopeless narcissist after all, but I’m a firmly established Manhattan boy. Whenever I frolic over across the East River I always enjoy returning home (even if the L at night makes me die inside). It’s true. Manhattan can be bitchy, lavish, and pretentious… oh wait we’re not describing me are we?