I visited the fabled Wo-Burg for the first time today, and as a semi Non-Native New Yorker I have but one question :
What the Fuck?
What's with selling the kind of stuff I would see on the street and not think twice about? You have some cute stores: Sprout Home was nice & had friendly staff, and I stopped into a gallery where I didn't like any of the art but appreciated the effort. But mostly you're vintage shops full of stuff I wouldn't buy for $1 at the local goodwill. I could be biased based on my shopping diet, but on a beautiful Saturday afternoon it was the opposite of enticing.
Places to eat were plentiful, although this is New York, so I would be shocked if they weren't. BBQ, Mexican, & Coffee seemed to be the main choices. I get it: you're full of young hipsters. That stuff is drunk comfort food. I enjoy it too.
But seriously hipsters? What the hell are you all wearing? And why are you all white? For women, the generally accepted shape is skinny jeans with some kind of loose-fitting top. I can understand going for comfort & "damn the patriarchy!", but there are lots of much more comfortable things you could wear that are equally unattractive. For men, the generally accepted form seemed to be out-of-the-closet-Country-Club-boys. I'm okay with that: hell, I think it's damn cute. But when I see a normal-ish guy in a motorcycle jacket and jeans standing on the corner & think 'how refreshingly normal,' we have a problem.
Oh, and I know they got there first, but what the hell is up with all the (white) parents? It's nice, I guess, that the world is going to be peopled, but that doesn't make the sidewalks your personal playground. I saw a guy walking down the street, bent over and holding both hands of his toddler as the kid took uncertain steps down the pavement. Are you being ironic, holding up traffic like that?
The whole place just aggravates me. The architecture is just as hideous as my neighborhood, but because there are about fourteen places to buy clothing somebody else has worn before, everybody wants to walk up and down Bedford Street.
Maybe it's a good place to be drunk.