In Metropolis, Vickie Fernandez has a rant about gentrification in Passyunk, where she’s lived for six years. Here’s a fun little snippet:
From my bedroom window, I hear the snippets of drunken conversations as the clacking of heels clamor against the Native American chevron patterns on the sidewalk. I look out at the humble Philadelphia skyline as the sun sets, in a corona of pinks and blushing blues over the city. There’s a traffic jam down the Avenue that was once silent; sandwiched between narrow adjoining streets where generations of Italian American families saved parking spots with plastic lawn chairs and stragglers once wandered onto from the court ordered methadone clinic on Broad Street to panhandle and bum cigarettes….I watched my neighborhood flourish around me as I grew into myself and out of love. The hipsters are now my friends they cut my hair at Fringe Salon and sell me coffee at Black and Brew. I pay way too much for produce at the Acme and when I’m sad I walk down to Adobe on my own and sing karaoke with the regulars. On Sunday’s, I get a kick out of the dichotomies that brush up against one another as I walk to the gym. Mother’s in pajama pants push kids with Rita Water Ice stained faces around in strollers passed the sharp dressed brunch crowd at Los Caballitos. Men yell at the big screen, cigarettes dangling from their lips at local sports teams from the el fresco seating area at Stogie Joe’s while guys wearing Misfits t-shirts tinker with bikes outside of Philadelphia Scooters.
Obviously the Misfits t-shirts are to blame.
I don’t know if this is great photo to illustrate the post, but it’s the only one I could find on Flickr tagged “South Philly Gentrification.” Photo via