New York is a patchwork of neighborhoods, an oddly-shaped, unplanned amalgam of accidental thingamabobs. What started, back in the 1700’s as villages grew until their edges bumped into other villages, creating a human hive, a city that often feels like a country unto itself. During a typical day, I may visit offices in the East Village, play squash in the West Village, hold my breath while walking past fermenting garbage cans in Midtown, or check myself out in a storefront window in Chinatown.
Neighborhoods! Lots of ‘em. And names. Some of them are really witty. For example:- Soho and NoHo
South and North of Houston, respectively - Dumbo
Down under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass - Alphabet City
Avenues A, B, C, and D - NoLiTa (rhymes with Lolita)
North of Little Italy - SoBro
My current favorite. Short for The South Bronx.
Who thinks up these names? Real estate agents? Advertising executives with spiky haircuts and narrow ties? Trend-spotting, 22-year-old journalists? Doesn’t really matter; if it’s catchy, the people will use it.
If it’s not catchy, no one will care. For a decade, someone’s been campaigning to have Hell’s Kitchen renamed Clinton Hill. Unsuccessfully. What college grads wouldn’t love a Hell’s Kitchen address? Especially as, nowadays, it comes without all the crime.
But what about my neighborhood?
I live on the line that separates two, maybe three neighborhoods. Park Slope to my north, Sunset Park to my south, Windsor Terrace to my East.
When asked, I usually just say, “Park Slope.” Most Manhattanites have heard of Park Slope or are at least aware that it’s probably in Brooklyn; some may have been there.
But really, I don’t live in Park Slope, and while it’s a fine neighborhood, it’s really not my thing. For one, it’s quite pricey, and for that kind of money, I want environs catering to my needs and desires, whatever those might be. Park Slope has too many organic bagel shops and boutiques with toddler-size backpacks in the window.
I could claim Sunset Park as my home, but then I might be talking to someone who actually is from Sunset Park, grew up there, speaks Spanish, does the whole block party thing, and knows the lady who sells religious figurines on 5th avenue; I’d have to retreat and feel like part of the gentrifying wave of white, middle class professionals entering these neighborhoods, perhaps watering them down. Almost surely watering them down.
Why am I writing this?
Believe it or not, this is sort of thing I’ve found myself talking about lately, and while am aware that you, the reader, probably don’t live in New York, maybe something here will resonate with you. It probably won’t, and I’m probably breaking most of the rules of good blogging.
I want a name for my neighborhood. A shorthand. Something to make you smile and perhaps roll your eyes. SoBro!!! Dumbo!! I love those names. For a while on Craig’s List, apartments in this area were being foisted off as part of “South Slope”. Could we call that SoSlo?