New York City neighborhoods are like fraternities and sororities. They have distinct boundaries, varying levels of turn-up, and almost all of them are filthy with at least one resident with syphilis. Following this line of thought, it’s only a logical exercise to assign these neighborhoods their Greek life counterparts, right?
Also, is there anything better than being a working professional and still using your college Greek affiliation to determine your self worth?
Murray Hill = AEPI/AEPhi
Your apartment is spacious and beautiful but you have to beg people to come pregame considering how far away you are from everything. “But I’m close to Brother Jimmy’s and on the 4,5,6 line!” you cry. Psh, nice try. Your parents pay your rent because your apartment passes the neurotic Jewish mother test with a doorman, clean countertops and a trash chute. But you also love living in Murray Hill, despite insisting that it’s Kips Bay, because you’re able to see the same 40 kids most people never wanted to see again after college. Interns love you and you’ll try to recruit them to your cause later. Most will see through this, but others will become groupies for the foreseeable future.
You used to suck, but now you’re cool. In fact you’re not cool, you’re the cat’s fucking pajamas. In fact, these cat’s pajamas are suede with Versace trim and have a Moncler x Adidas slippers collab that can only be copped from the pop-up shop open on Tuesdays from 1:15 to 1:45 p.m. on Prince Street. The haters just don’t fuck with the vision, fam. You know all the cool bars and so what if you have to wait in line for an hour to use the same urinal that Leonardo DiCaprio used last week! Leonardo DiCaprio’s dick was in the same spot as your dick! How crazy is that? However, you’re one pledge class or economic bust away from going back to a series of normies scraping your way back to the top.
FiDi = Phi Delt
Beautiful house full of Patrick Batemans, Jimmy Tatros and Dan Bilzerians. Handsome but hollow; rich but culturally destitute. It is here on Wall Street where the douche is put into fiduciary.
Upper West Side= KD
Perched atop the left breast of Manhattan sit a group of women in penthouses. Dinner parties are held, plans are dropped, and vanity mirrors are as abundant as vanity itself. The strategic reason behind this location is to ensure that no peons or plebeians may enter the gates. Your house/neighborhood is not meant to be a focal point of the party, only a comfort to resort back to at the end of a long night or hectic day of appointments. You can venture out into the city for whatever is needed, but joyfully revert back to your residence when the time is nigh.
East Village= SAE
Not the best, but DEFINITELY not the worst. In fact, some would say a perfect balance. Sure, sometimes you’re super dirty and weird and sexy at the same time, but it works. It totally works. You have a storied history of celebrities and alumni and your relatively small community stays close knit. The East River separates you from your ultra hardo Sigmachi neighbors in Williamsburg and the bars you go to aren’t the flashiest, but have reasonably priced cocktails, and a diversity of activity. Tompkin Square Park is the ideal place to play some pick up basketball, but just be careful to avoid the passed out alcoholics in the middle of it.
You’re ethnic but you’re fun! It’s not like anybody is ever opposed to coming to say hi, but is it peoples’ first choice? Listen, you may not be people’s first choice but you’re gritty and that’s respectable. Honestly, you’re underrated because randomly throughout the year you turn up hard for some strange festival or party.
Midtown = Theta chi
Great house. In fact, the biggest house! With the tallest buildings and the largest party barn and foyer! But everybody in these large buildings suck or hate themselves or pretend to like the fact that they wear a suit everyday but actually don’t. You shake hands when you see your pals… every time. Even with your best friends, you shake hands. No daps and no pounds and even with girls there is no awkward side hug, just a straight firm eye contact handshake…every time. You stay buttoned up and integral to business but what other freshman has ever said, “let’s go to midtown!”
Greenwich Village = ZTA
It’s like you’re in college but you’re not. You miss college so you live close to NYU and Off The Wagon. But who can blame you? Your streets are beautiful and tree-lined. Washington Square Park is ever-regal. Tanning in the grass is a regular weekend activity in the summer. Plus, By Chloe, the vegan restaurant, is down the street, can I get a yassssssss.
NoLiTa = Theta
The point is that you’ll never be as cool as SoHo. But that’s fine! You’re still not bad. You’re actually pretty good! You’re very good! But just not quiteeeee there. Plenty of talent still gets thrown your way, though. You’re still trendy and have pop-up shops and tasty restaurants, which is cool. But are you the coolest? Like ice cold?
Lower East Side = DG
This must be where the term “night and day” comes from because y’all do NOT look the same in class as you do at the bars. The Lower East Side can go from a 6 to 10 real quick but I won’t even be asking questions. I’ll just go with it and next thing I know it’s 5 in the morning and I’m on a roof blacking back in to a table full of party favors in the midst of an epic postgame. In fact, most people have trouble even recognizing the Lower East Side during the day because they’re always so black out when they’re there at night. You’re the absolute dirtiest and nastiest and debaucherous but it’s all part of the charm.
TriBeCa = ADPi
A genteel, well-mannered, and discreet neighborhood, which much like KD in the Upper West side is generally closed off to the peasantry. Your primary concern is bringing your charmed southern life to the Big Apple and raising a family in a neighborhood of yuppy doctors, lawyers, and bankers with an abundance of parks and quiet streets to push around strollers of your kids that you’ve between the ages of 27 to 30 and not a day before or after that. It’s safe and quiet. It’s blonde and beautiful, breezy and lighthearted. It’s like if “Big Little Lies” met “The Stepford Wives” and they had a baby. Then “Sex in the City” and “The Real Housewives” met and had a baby. AND IF THROUGH DIVINE INTERVENTION those two babies met and had a baby, ADPi in TriBeCa would be the shit they birthed: white and overrated.
Williamsburg = Sigma Chi
You’re out of the way but you’re also very dope so people make the trip anyway. You also probably paid some hipsters to make a fucking vlog or after party video of one of your rooftop crawfish boils. Quite frankly, you’re on top of the world. But impending doom is soon coming your way to knock you off your altitudinous equine steed (high horse.) Because the L train is shutting down! Enjoy it while it lasts, boys, because you’re all going down! EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE OF YOU! With the most meteoric rises come the most crushing demises. If it’s any solace, you’re presence will be missed from campus/the city, but the gentrification had to stop at some point.
Bushwick = GDIs
This is self explanatory if you are familiar with New York. But if you’re not…
Meatpacking = PIKE
Meat. Packing. Meaty dudes. Packing meat. Conversation seldom extends beyond a few grunts in a loud night clerb as cringy pelvis un-surreptitiously meets fleeing female body part. Admittedly, some of the parties are fun, and the booze flows, but don’t be surprised if you’re faced with wall-to-wall sweaty dudes vying for a lofty table costing thousands of dollars-per-minute surrounded by women who were brought by a promoter hours before with the promise of free drinks and dinner in return for pretending like they’re having fun.
DUMBO = Delt
You try. And you marginally succeed! But the trendiness is faux. It’s a product of great planning and marketing, not any sort of true individual craft. You even have a cool abbreviation because Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass and Delta Tau Delta just don’t have the same ring as DUMBO and Delt right? I can call North of Broome South of Fourth NoBroSoFo but it’s still gross ass Canal Street.
The accents are as thick as the diamonds their mom’s wear and put on their goldendoodles for fun. The pools are nice, but if they don’t have a flamingo shaped floaty for 1,000 takes of the same picture to instagram then did you even have a salad with a Bellini for brunch, Becky?
Hell’s Kitchen = Beta
Varying between questionably and unquestionably gay faster than you can eat a slice of sausage pizza crust first. Both names ring true. Hell’s Kitchen is quite literally hell on earth considering that your subway stop is Times Square. And a group of men who voluntarily call themselves betas? This could not be more apropos.