There are few arguments quite as futile, or fun, as debating the merits of cities. I’ve spent many hours discussing the virtues of New York City pizza versus Mexican food in Los Angeles, or the views from the Brooklyn Bridge versus Mulholland. Personally, I take great pleasure in knowing both metropoli, in being as intimate with the 101 freeway as I am with the no.1 subway line. But Paul Tullis isn’t quite as sanguine. He’s a former Angeleno who finds himself cold and broke in Manhattan, surrounded by a bunch of intellectual snobs:
“If all you care about is weather and real estate, yeah, L.A. is better,” a friend, who writes for magazines and television and spends time in both cities, told me over dinner recently. What my friend failed to acknowledge is that, for most people, ninety percent of life is massively influenced by weather and real estate. Sure, if you’re single &/or childless and can skip town whenever you feel like it, if you can go out till 2 and sleep till 11 and take advantage of all the city has to offer, if you spend every waking hour at gallery openings and luncheon meetings and bars and restaurants and none in your 500 sq. ft. apartment–sure, New York rules. But how many people does this describe, who can afford to live like this? It basically describes my friend, and the characters on Sex and the City. Which was not a documentary.