When I was a bit younger more uncertain and naive, there were women who came to the city and were my contemporaries or a little older who maneuvered the nighttime scenes with metaphoric knives out. Not everyone was this way, thankfully, but it was definitely a human trope. This type of person invariably fancied herself some newfangled combination of Dorothy Parker, Holly Golightly, and Edie Sedgwick.
Time marched on and began to bring a new kind of transplant with it, a bit more affluent but with the same type of attitude, only now they were fancying themselves, some newfangled combination of Carrie, Samantha, Sarah Jessica Parker, and hell-I-forget-the-other-one. But anyway, did I get less uncertain? Or did people’s New York City delusions just get less impressive?