New York Disney
The Boyf and I watched a great old movie today: John and Mary, starring Dustin Hoffman and Mia Farrow. It's set in New York in the late '60s. I like comparing old New York to the sanitized version of New York we know now.
Case in point: Early in the film, Dustin asks Mia where she lives. She replies (and I'm paraphrasing a bit here): "Murray Hill. It's nice. There are trees on the streets, lots of men with little dogs, and only two stabbings a week."
The Boyf and I couldn't help but crack up at that one.
Both of us live near Murray Hill, and we like our neighborhood, but all New Yorkers know that Mia's characterization couldn't be further from the truth now. The gay men of yesteryear have been replaced by grunting, flip-flop-wearing frat boys, and the stabbings have been ousted in favor of overpriced boutiques helmed by nasty saleswomen. It's more like, "Only two sorostitutes blowing their chunks in the gutter a weekend," or "Only two or three drunken brawls on Third Avenue a week."
So I said one prayer of thanks for not having to worry about being stabbed on my walk back from the Boyf's place, and I said one prayer of wish that I hope reaches the heavens by the time doors open on the new condos that are now going up on every side street in Midtown:
"Please, Lord, don't let the jerks from Thursday's Post story price me out of my walk-up."
Case in point: Early in the film, Dustin asks Mia where she lives. She replies (and I'm paraphrasing a bit here): "Murray Hill. It's nice. There are trees on the streets, lots of men with little dogs, and only two stabbings a week."
The Boyf and I couldn't help but crack up at that one.
Both of us live near Murray Hill, and we like our neighborhood, but all New Yorkers know that Mia's characterization couldn't be further from the truth now. The gay men of yesteryear have been replaced by grunting, flip-flop-wearing frat boys, and the stabbings have been ousted in favor of overpriced boutiques helmed by nasty saleswomen. It's more like, "Only two sorostitutes blowing their chunks in the gutter a weekend," or "Only two or three drunken brawls on Third Avenue a week."
So I said one prayer of thanks for not having to worry about being stabbed on my walk back from the Boyf's place, and I said one prayer of wish that I hope reaches the heavens by the time doors open on the new condos that are now going up on every side street in Midtown:
"Please, Lord, don't let the jerks from Thursday's Post story price me out of my walk-up."
Labels: dustin hoffman, john and mary, manhattan, mia farrow, movies, murray hill, real estate
posted by Jane at 10:29 PM
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