The Upper East Side Dictionary

I am a person who thinks we all should know that your and you’re are two different words.  And that their, there, and they’re are three different words!  And I’m a person who will judge you if you can’t correctly use these words.  But it doesn’t matter where you go in this country, you will always find people who cannot grasp the difference or who say “her and I” and act as though they sound smart.

However, on the Upper East Side there is a whole new assault on the English language taking place- an Upper East Side dictionary if you will.  This was a foreign language to me until I crossed 14th Street and then I was unsure if I was simply on 79th Street or if I had somehow space traveled across the country to the Valley with the interjection of “oh my god” or “Oh.Em.Gee.” or “like, like, like” in between every other word.  And then add in the up-down-up-down roller coaster cadence and you need to whip out your iPhone and install the sorority translation app.

Strikingly similar

Aside from these aforementioned means of communicating there is a slew of shortened words that an Upper East Sider uses, whether it be due to sheer laziness, downright stupidity, or some fratty club I was not invited (thank you Jesus) to be a part of.  Here are some of said words:

ohmagod PERF= perfect
oh ya, TOTES= totally (Sometimes you will hear “totes McGotes.”  I don’t even know….)
DEF= definitely
Watevs= whatever

And then are words that are just completely fabricated.  One such word is CLUTCH.  No, not a clutch hitter and no, not a small evening purse.  Apparently this means “cool,” as in, “oh my god, these new Tory Burch flats are SO clutch!”

Get a group of UES girls together who are speaking this language and forget it, you might as well be on a cockatoo farm.  So, when I hear you say, “Oh my god, like, this dress is totes perf for the Hamptons, you should like def wear it,” I will be vomiting in my mouth and dying a slow death right along with Merriam Webster.

Upper East Siders are Rich

Yeah, no shit.  Those living on the Upper East Side have drivers, Hermès scarves, and personal gyms in their homes.  A recent article in New York Magazine even found that “all of the places whose clientele consists of more than 15 percent luxury spenders are on the Upper East Side.”  If you need further proof of this obvious fact, Property Shark has a map of Manhattan Median Sale Price  of homes by block which further exemplifies the absurd amount of wealth clustered on the UES.  In fact, half of the ten wealthiest blocks lie here.

this map gives me visions of fur-clad women drinking bellinis at a Tuesday afternoon board meeting

No let’s take a look at the lowly East Village….

Quite a drastic difference.  To me this comparison is very ironic.  I would have given up a vital organ to keep living in the EV, but I absolutely could not afford it.  As I’ve mentioned, that was the reason I moved to the UES- I could get a decent apartment without having to sell my eggs.  Mind you, I am a renter (aka, a normal human being).  So what does this all imply?  That EV rents are sky-high and UES sales are sky-high.  It seems obvious that the reason for this is the clientele both neighborhoods are catering to at this point in time.  Young, trendy, want-to-be-hipsters who have a decent amount of money (and by this I mean daddy’s credit card) want to rent in the EV.  Older, baby-toting, Wall Street executives (and by this I mean North Face-wearing yuppies) want to buy on the UES.  In conclusion, if I ever want to move back to the EV I either need my father to hit the lottery (hey, dad, start playing the mega millions please) or I need to marry a trader (hell will freeze over before that happens).  Oh, or I can still sell body parts.

Margaritas Know No Bounds

I’m sure by now you’ve all heard that it’s National Margarita Day, but what you may not know is that I love me a good margarita!!  I now present to you my favorite margaritas Uptown & Downtown.

The best East Village margarita award goes to the Luci at Diablo Royale (167 Ave. A between East 10th/11th).  This succulent beverage is half frozen margarita, half champagne…need I say more??

L: the bar at Diable Royale Este (there is also the original West Village location); R: the Luci

The best Upper East Side margarita award goes to the Black Flower at Blockheads (1563 2nd Ave. between East 81st/82nd, there are also 7 other locations).  Similar to the mixology of my EV pick, the Black Flower is half frozen margarita, half sangria…again, need I say more??

the Black Flower at Blockheads....the drink in the background is GI Joe's frozen pink lemonade (hey, even GI Joes have sweet tooths)

Energy Consumption

There’s a great new interactive map out that represents the total annual building energy consumption at the block and lot levels.  It’s by Vijay Modi, a professor of mechanical engineering at Columbia University, and graduate student Bianca Howard.  According to Gothamist, Modi says, “Midtown Manhattan has more energy use than the whole country of Kenya, and New York state uses more energy than all of sub-Saharan Africa.”  Scary.  Obviously, I had to present the comparison of UES versus EV.  Here ya go….

Upper East Side

East Village

This comparison is not rocket science- Upper East Siders, you are bunch of wasteful bastards, probably due in part to the fact that you grew up in a McMansion with a nanny who shut the lights off for you; East Villagers, you’re doing well, probably due in part to the fact that you grew up with a father who screamed at you, “turn the damn lights off, I’m not feeding JCP&L’s kids.” (wait, was that just me?)

* JCP&L= Jersey Central Power & Light

Early Sunday Morning

No, this is not about the Edward Hopper painting (did you really think this blog was that sophisticated?).  It is about Sunday mornings in the city.  And by morning I mean noon, when New Yorkers typically emerge out of their apartments.  Sundays have long been known as “the day of rest.”  Yes, perhaps if you live in the Bible Belt you’ll wake up, go to church, say a few Hail Mary’s and spend the rest of the day in a holy state of rest.  That is not the case in Manhattan.  UES and EV residents, however, spend their Sundays very differently.

Let’s start Downtown.  Take a walk down Avenue A around noon a Sunday and what will you find?  Brunchers galore.  NYC on the whole is known for its brunch culture, but the EV is particularly fond of this pastime.  You stay out until 5am, wake up at 11:30 hungover, and then head to Poco (for those of you have yet to experience the Poco eggs benedict or lobster mac n’ cheese you are severely deprived) to drink unlimited mimosas until 4pm.  I used to partake often (see my expanded waist line and empty wallet).  On your walk you will see brunchers huddled in groups outside popular spots waiting for a table.  You’ll see post-brunchers stumbling home in the light of day.  There’s no judgement, though, this is just the way it is in the EV.

what do you get when you cross a Sunday morning Upper East Sider with a Sunday morning East Villager?

Now, let’s go Uptown and take a walk up 1st Avenue.  The brunchers are few and far between and those that you do see definitely are not wearing last night’s makeup like those in the EV.  Instead, they are wearing Nikes, spandex pants, and Under Armour shirts.  They are out running.  A lot of them are couples (hey, the pair that runs together stays together, right?).  After their 27-mile run, they’ll pop into the not-original H&H Bagels for a bite to eat.  Don’t be fooled, though.  They’re not ordering bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel.  They request their bagel to be “hollowed-out” (if you’re requesting such a thing, it’s your brain that’s actually hollowed out) and lightly toasted with low-fat cream cheese.  But, as far as I can tell, I’m the only one judging (not only is this a blatant waste of food, but if you’re going to eat a bagel, eat an actual fucking bagel).

The Upper East Sider is drinking OJ for the Vitamin C.  The East Villager is mixing the OJ with cheap champagne for a buzz.  Sure, the Upper East Sider is healthier and is probably accomplishing much more with his or her day.  But, I imagine, if you took Joe-spandex and plopped him on Avenue A on Sunday morning he wouldn’t be able to resist partaking in the art of brunching.  Of course, he’d run the 80 blocks home to burn off the pancakes.

Little Brown, Little Brown

It was a depressing, frigid, post-holiday afternoon and GI Joe and I had ventured outside of our laying-in-bed-watching-Law & Order SVU-cacoon to get some air. It was one of his last days in the city before heading back to Fayeteville, NC, the black hole of the east coast where he is stationed. Anticipating our time together ending, we both needed a pick me up. We stumbled upon a chocolate bakery and coffee shop at 85th and Lex called Our Little Brown and figured we’d pop in for a treat. Entering, we agreed that hot chocolate and a brownie would do the trick. To heighten my cacao-induced excitement I saw on the menu that a salted caramel hot chocolate was offered (I LOVE anything involving the words salted and caramel). GI Joe, the minimalist that he is, stuck to basic hot chocolate. Let me tell you, those warm beverages and gooey decadent brownie did the trick in releasing some much-needed endorphins.  Even the standard hot chocolate was surprisingly decadent.  And mine was like nothing I’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

As soon as we left I thought to myself, this is so much better than the Union Square Max Brenner busting at the seams with tourists and NYU freshman waiting in line for a gimmicky chocolate syringe to inject into their clueless little mouths. I researched Little Brown in preparation for this post, however, and found some very startling news- it is nothing other than an offshoot of the loathed-by-locals Max Brenner!  Which actually confirmed my thoughts-  it is not at all the caliber of the chocolatey establishment or its offerings (hell, my father claims the best chocolate out there comes from the Dollar Tree), but rather the clientele frequenting the establishment.  The upper East Village/ Union Square area has become more saturated with the aforementioned annoying breeds in the past decade due to atrociously out-of-scale NYU dorms in the area and the widely conceived notion that “Union Square” is a whole mystical, trendy, Downtown world in itself (the rest of us know it is basically a transportation/grocery shopping hub).  Upper East Siders aren’t looking for a gigantic nutella pizza to take a photo of and put in their “NYC” Facebook album.  They’re either too old, they’ve been there/done that, or they’re just too boring.  In any case, they aren’t looking for a gimmick and props to the Bald Man for recognizing this and plopping Our Little Brown in my new neighborhood.

Thank God for the Good Will

Last night I met a few friends for drinks at Beauty Bar.  A year and a half ago I worked at a “trendy” Union Square restaurant where I met this lovely group of friends that I love so dearly.  We have Vegan Friend (you met her previously in the post, Upper East Siders Like Free Wine Too), we have Cute Actress Friend, and we have Luscious Lips Ecuadorian Friend (a male).  They all looked stylish and hot in their Downtown garb last night- a look I also am typically flaunting.  However, last night was different.

My office is very casual and I usually have no problem transitioning from day to night in what I wear to work.  Yesterday, however, I had an important meeting as well as a wake to attend.  Therefore, I needed to look professional and wear black.  I wore a grey pinstriped button-down shirt, a black high-waisted, knee-length skirt, black tights, and black flats (I know, awful).  So, not only did I look like a Jewish mother but, according to my friends, I was letting the world know that I work a 9-5 job.

“Omg, you are SO Upper East Side!” shouted Vegan Friend.

“Go back home with all the rest of the Yuppies!” said Luscious Lips Ecuadorian.

“You probably shouldn’t even be standing here talking to us!” declared Cute Actress Friend.

I was living out my worst nightmare and would have rather been standing in the bar naked than standing there in the Yuppie uniform.

“My skirt is from the Good Will!” I retorted.

A waive of relief flooded over them.

“Oooooh, the Good Will, you’re fine, totally hipster,” Luscious Lips assured me.

And I was able to sleep soundly last night.

Mac n’ Cheese

This gooey, mouthwatering treat is really having a heyday right about now.  The food that was once a made-out-of-a-box staple for those of us too poor or too lazy to cook up anything else is popping up on menus of overtly pretentious restaurants like the Smith (you will come to learn I have a very passionate hatred for the Smith), David Burke Kitchen, Bryant Park Grill, and the Harrison.  It’s also, as evidenced by a recent map by Eater, coming in innovative new forms like  mac n’ cheese pizza and mac n’ cheese spring rolls.  Despite all the hoopla, though, this cheesy delight can trace its big time New York City roots to, where else, the East Village.

On 12th Street between 1st and 2nd Avenues lies S’MAC, Sarita’s Mac n’ Cheese.  This appropriately designed yellow and orange storefront specifically serves up macaroni and cheese- 12 signature varities to be exact with the option to build your own.  Since June 2006, this has been a neighborhood favorite when in the mood for comfort food and/or when hungover. I’m not implying that S’MAC was the first place in the City to have the idea of offering macaroni and cheese on its menu.  I’m asserting that it was the first place to put macaroni and cheese on the map as a delicacy worthy of standing alone as an entree.  I’m confident that most people, Villagers and cheese lovers specifically, would agree with me.

S'MAC mac n' cheese. Picture speaks for itself.

On a recent trip to Bloomingdales (quintessentially UES in so many ways) with a fellow former NYU student (hence former East Village resident who got driven out of the neighborhood by skyrocketing prices not able to be paid for with our close-to-Ivy League-education) we couldn’t help but listening in on a conversation occurring next to us in the scarf department- a conversation about mac n’ cheese that is.  The dialogue was between two well-dressed men (hello, they were in Bloomingdales) who probably wouldn’t know a hipster if it hit them on the top of their Pomaded heads.  Regardless of this naivety, the two gentlemen were masquerading as trendy Downtowners who just discovered gold.  “Dude, I love mac n’ cheese.”  Felix Unger #2 agreed.  “Do you know there’s place in Brooklyn where all they have is mac n’ cheese?!  It’s crazy, the first place like that.  And my girlfriend can get dairy free!” I assume they were referring to Brooklyn Mac.

My non-idiot friend and I gave each other the look, scoffed, and walked away.  A) this was not the first mac n’ cheese establishment as previously cited, it was in fact years behind B) S’MAC has been serving dairy and gluten free options, again, for years and C) Just because you are talking about a place located in oh-so-trendy Brooklyn, does not give you the liberty to forget you are wearing a Ralph Lauren sweater vest and running your fingers along a cashmere pashmina.  Most importantly though, do not insult the East Village by afirming that it was elsewhere where the mac n’ cheese phenomena began.  It’s serious business when melted cheese is involved and I hope other Upper East Siders will take heed.

Update: a NY Post article on 1/15/12 notes that S’MAC is THE #1 delivery joint in all of NYC.  Told ya so.

Buddy Holly

When comparing the Upper East Side to the East Village, it seems to be a no brainer that the UES is more associated with being stuck-up and pretentious than the EV.  Yes, there are plenty of hoity toity types living in the upper digits, but the EV is no exception to this snobbery, it just disguises it in tight pants and thick-rimmed glasses as opposed to the UES uniform of North Face jackets and Longchamp bags.  The downtown hipsters, in their quest to be anti-yuppie, ironically form their own unique clique of pretention.  You know what I’m talking about if you’ve ever gotten the simultaneous eye roll and sideswept bang hair flip from a PBR-holding, hand-rolled cigarette smoking hipster. 

I can exemplify this theory through a recent experience of mine.  My army man (we’ll call him GI Joe) and I planned a Thursday night date night.  I had recently heard about the Lower East Side restaurant Freeman’s.  A friend of mine told me I’d love its romantic location at the end of an unknown alley off Rivington Street and its twinkly lights and hearthy interior.   They didn’t take reservations, but I figured we’d be fine- I didn’t mind waiting 20 minutes for a table.  We arrived to Freeman’s Alley around 8pm.  Throngs of people were bustling through the alley and when we approached the restaurant we saw people waiting outside.  Despite this clue, we went in to give our name.  We stood by the host stand for a good 5 minutes while being ignored by the preppy-hipster (the worst breed of hipster in my opinion) host.  Several people cut us in line and were warmly welcomed by preppy-hipster host and given a 2-hour wait time.  Finally it cleared out a bit and we were the only people standing near the host station.  Then, a second preppy-hipster complete with the standard thick-framed black glasses (the place was swarming with them!) approached the station.  Preppy-hipster host greeted him.  GI Joe had enough.  He turned to preppy-hipster customer and shouted, “Hey! Buddy Holly, do you not see us waiting here?!“  Preppy-hipster host retorted to GI Joe, “Excuse me sir, he’s already on the list so I’m helping him first.”  And on that note, we exited the jungle.  The List was not a physical piece of paper with names written on it; The List was the unspoken bond between Buddy Holly-looking hipster folk.  The bond where those of us who don’t fit into their definition of acceptable human being are thrown to the side like rotten meat.  GI Joe and I may not fit into the Downtown hipster appearance and we may not fit into the Uptown frat culture, but we do know that no good meal is worth sacrificing our dignity for.  We also know that glasses are worn for seeing, not for jumping ahead on the Buddy Holly list.

Chainification

Yes, this is English I’m speaking.  Chainification is a term used to describe the influx of chain stores in a given area.  I’m sure you’ve seen it in your own neighborhood- first a Subway moves in, then an Anne Taylor, and before you know it you’ve got a real live Kmart breathing down your neck.  Chainification, more times than not, goes along with gentrification, both phenomena that kill off the true culture of a community.  It’s our local businesses that keep our neighborhoods alive, though, not Urban Outfitters.  A newly launched website, CityMaps, which I am completely obsessed with, pinpoints all the businesses that dot our grid.  The large colorful logos demarcate chain, or big box, stores.   I couldn’t resist making a comparison of the UES versus the EV.  I think the colored-logo-ratio speaks for itself….

28 chains in this UES snippet

only 5 chains in the same EV snippet