![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2XVvLMZ3bfq0wUX_87GBtjvBNfDf3dbVQ-8SXha9W4XDlXXQwRWgq8FvqIkGwUHEHpCCd1oPThVNLCtsNFWEWqdRNOpTDkwjTXNblSsG-MIE6xMfPx_6zM2xoDPa2DSZXInxTyahl9SI5/s540/2ll8DyT8Hy_b74fLEfzPde5UE_qsdL8fzRof-ZWn6beg8btluHoZ4tuPpslBsHfml7v3qj4teifHGZRMMup8hrhKBpITTTMKrElh3QMe7jNCXBpxkkSjl7OiiU8hf1osTD-5ZSYnm4Q7hQltTZMe3aIy5yOmWYFAfCF8jeTGzLpxkyQ60d4rMW2ywCIR2fOnihIWTyiDsRdY44BXwa0Ii_UQfx.jpg)
The article.
Somehow this neighborhood once known for sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll keeps getting better. If this place were a rock band, in the 1990s it would have been a raucous merging of the Sex Pistols meets the Rolling Stones. Today, it’s more mellow indie rock meets John Mayer.
One person scored a $1,900 one-bedroom on a fourth-floor walk-up. About $3,000 will get you a small two-bedroom. The farther east one goes, towards Avenue C and D, the less one pays, but the closer one gets to housing projects and traditional, immigrant areas known for their local flavor.
Parts of this area gets gritty, but public gardens fill the empty lots, some with Roman amphitheatres, others with weeping willow trees and small ponds filled with gold fish.
Supposedly, all of New York City is suffering from a mass collective malaise, a dark cloud of shared pessimism. But the truth is very different. In reality, many of us are feeling giddily optimistic about this city for the first time in a decade.
Who are these crazy optimists? Head-in-the-sand deniers of the economic calamity? No, just people who welcome the possibility that the unique character of New York, sanitized in the Giuliani and Bloomberg years, may finally return.
As the writer of the blog Jeremiah's Vanishing New York, where I catalogue the city that's being lost to hypergentrification, I have heard hope rising from many vocal readers -- hope that we'll at last have our beloved, wild, creative, eclectic city back.
Since the boom began approximately 10 years ago, many New Yorkers have watched with grief and anger while the city we love was crushed by overzealous development, the all-encompassing renovation plan of Mayor Bloomberg. This plan has gutted countless mom-and-pop businesses and landmarks like Coney Island and Yankee Stadium. It has extended to the use of eminent domain to seize private property from its owners. What we have received in return has been a city of glass, cold and calculated, built for only the superrich seekers of safety to enjoy.
The venerable neighborhood, long-ago habitat of butchers in bloodstained aprons, hosts an assortment of less savory sorts each weekend: Drunks. Cokeheads. Dealers.
"I hate it," said Johanna Lindsay, who's lived there for eight years. "It's gotten cool, and not in a good way."
The no-holds-barred party, as witnessed by Daily News reporters, knows few boundaries. One reporter was solicited by three dealers within two hours on a Saturday night.
Reporters watched a pair of twentysomething club girls vomit in tandem; a man urinate as he weaved along Washington St.; another man so blitzed he appeared paralyzed on W. 13th St.