Culture on the Cheap
Reflections Upon Gentrification: #1 Of The Greenpoint 10
All too often as I sit at this computer and listen to the bang banging of Magic Johnson’s silver hammers I find myself worrying about my neighborhood’s future:
Will the developers succeed turning the glory that is Greenpoint into yet another bland affluent ghetto?
Twenty years from now will I find myself explaining to my own children, or more likely SOMEONE ELSE’S children, that there was a time when The Garden Spot on the Universe not only did not suck, but had personality? I certainly hope not.
The previous are both very good questions. And today I found a glimmer of hope that the character of our neighborhood— or more accurately the characters who reside therein— are quite alive and well.
Never seen male pattern baldness paired with pigtails, you say? Come on down to Manhattan Avenue. We got it. Take that gentrification!
What’s more, we don’t need any tony, overpriced Bedford Avenue boutiques telling us how to dress. We can coordinate our jackets, sweat pants, mini skirts, purses and hairdos just fine on our own, thank you very much.
Viva La Punta Verde!
UPDATE, 4:52 p.m.: I have since learned this person is quite the fashion plate. G-Point writes:
This man lives but a few doors down from me. Just last week, while waiting for the B61 bus, my husband and I saw him in front of Lite Bites wearing – I kid you not – a Catholic schoolgirl-style plaid skirt and black tights. A couple of years ago, we saw him emerge from his apartment to take the garbage out in NOTHING BUT GRANNY UNDERWEAR.
God I love Greenpoint!