When I think of Uptown, for some reason my mind doesn’t immediately rush towards images of skyscrapers and congestion. Honestly, I think wealthy and high class people. People that tend to be snooty and all around ridiculous. That’s why when faced with the blog question I couldn’t shake this image out of my head:  See, there’s a lot of people in it, but it isn’t too crowded. These people are definitely rich, and most definitely ridiculous. I mean, come on, who the hell where’s a dress in the park. And, I don’t mean sundress, it’s like full on down to the floor, ruffles, and a corset. Clearly ridiculous. As if the women weren’t crazy enough, let’s talk about the men. You know, I didn’t realize Abraham Lincoln wanted to go for a stroll through the park with his pimp cane and top hat.

On a more serious note, I really do think this does portray Uptown even if its not set in New York. To me Uptown is more of a style rather than a place. It’s almost as if you can see someone on the street and know right away what they’re trying to portray with their fancy clothes. Georges Seurat did a great job of displaying what I consider to be “Uptown.”

In my head, the word “uptown” is immediately associated with fancy evenings and french restaurants.  Wealthy New York is the likes of 5th and Park Ave.  Glamorous shops, polished people, even the children are neat and “perfect.” Uptown is where people dress up to go out daily, with diamonds and everything. Our equivalent of these high society events is going to a club or any social event but not with nearly the same sophistication.  Their priorities are different, they deal with millions as we would deal with singles.   The “casual” for me would be sweatpants or jeans while for them may be a suit with no tie.  I usually associate these wealthy people, probably unfairly, with being snobs and looking down on all those not as rich.  This is most likely not the case with people of great stature, but after watching many biased movies, it’s hard not to think so.

However, because Manhattan sees so different varieties of people, I believe that the so called wealthy can have different faces.  I immediately think of How I Met Your Mother the T.V. series.  This group of friends comes from all over the world and seem to have really good jobs in NYC.  They live in such spacious Manhattan apartments and money never seems to be the issue with them.  The way they act however doesn’t match the same sophistication associated with the wealthy.  This image of them in tuxedos and dresses allows them to fit right in with those who own millions.  But watching this episode, they do not act the same way and actually present themselves really immaturely.  Because I consider them among the “uptown” group, it’s nice to see a little contrast to the image portrayed in movies.

No other image epitomizes my idea of wealthy New York more than a regular image of the magnificent city. A birds-eye view of large skyscrapers, the luminous shots of nighttime New York, these are the images that signal to my brain: Wealth! This is similar to the first thoughts that pop into my head when someone mentions New York. When those words hit my ear I instantly think of wealthy businessmen, wall street, grandiose apartment complexes, art museums, finely dressed men and women walking along busy sidewalks, and all that glamorous stuff. Now one might ask me: What about the poverty in the city? What about the large disparity between upper class and everyone below? What about all the budget cuts in education? Aren’t these more pressing issues in New York that should be consuming my first thoughts of the city? Now this is where I look at the birds-eye view pictures of our city; the bright night time shots of our skyscrapers; the beautiful sky lines of New York; and I answer: Where do you see that here?

Now I’m not trying to say that I have a blind eye for many of our city’s important issues. Rather, I’m just trying to express the fabulous idea of New York that I, and probably many others, perceive when we look at a picture of the city. Actually, maybe I’m one of few New Yorkers who think this way. I was born and raised in Queens, and Manhattan was just a place I never explored too much. I would only go there once or twice every couple of weeks for special occasions like dining or shopping. The city to me is still a wonder and as a result my mind is wired like that of a foreigner who’s never experienced the city. Foreigners often times derive their judgement of New York City from the movies and shows they watch, and what they see are, a lot of the time, depictions of upper or middle-upper class New Yorkers. This would explain my judgement of the previously mentioned city images.

However to be completely honest, even though I have my visualizations and ideas of what the upper class New York is like, I haven’t personally witnessed the magnitude of this wealthy, high and mighty class, save a couple of experiences. A lot of how I portray the upper class, is exactly how I imagine them from the movies: condescending, egotistic, narcissistic, and always expanding on topics which have minimal importance. (There are nice rich people too! I’m not trying to make them out to be evil if that’s what you assumed.)  I have never seen the people in the Plaza hotel. I have never been to a restaurant that serves wealthy guests. I’ve seen shows and movies with them in it, but that is all. I cannot garner much personal experience sadly.

So when it comes down to it, the big city and its upper class inhabitants will be mere projections to me. However, I draw motivation from it. Just like a foreigner first moving into New York, I have a feeling within myself that this is the city where my success is to be made. In my head, this will always be where I too can become a part of those that call themselves wealthy.

Now quick, what were the first things that came to mind?

Donald Trump is undeniably one of the richest men in New York, whether you love him or hate him. Trump has his made his imprint all over the upper class New York. When you hear “Trump” some might see a pompous egotistical older rich man with a ridiculous hairstyle, or you might see a genius business tycoon who takes advantage of what New York has to offer. I personally see Donald Trump as the latter. Trump can mean many different things. It can mean staying at five-star hotels, living in luxurious apartment complexes near central park, and being able to blow thousands of dollars at one time at those extravagant stores on Fifth Avenue.

Trump’s image most definitely epitomizes my idea of a wealthy New York because it represents absolutely everything upper class from five-star hotels such as Trump International Hotel and Trump SoHo New York to designer ties and shirts. As a kid, I’ve always dreamed of being able to live in these places where I would have my own bathrobe with my name written across it and be able to order Chinese food without leaving my suite. You can do all these in the five-star hotels that Trump owns in the heart of wealthy Manhattan.

I’m a fan of reality television (even though most of it is actually fake), and one of my favorite reality T.V shows has to be “The Apprentice” or “The Celebrity Apprentice” by Donald Trump. In this show, upper class New Yorkers compete with each other on various different tasks and sometimes, their knowledge of New York plays a vital role. Most of the people on the show are already wealthy businessmen and women who are looking to make even more money by working under Donald Trump.

In movies I always saw rich people with their briefcase in hand with their expensive suit and ties wandering around Manhattan and thought that everybody lived like this in NYC. I realized that not everybody is like that and you have to work your way up. The Trump image for me symbolizes wealth and prosperity, which is exactly what I wish to achieve (without the pompous and egotistical part).

"I am an opera singer!"

“Figaro, Figaro, Figarooooooooo!”

Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro” is probably one of the most known operas in the world. I think we are all somewhat familiar with the storyline and a few of the songs. And why shouldn’t we be? Hasn’t “The Marriage of Figaro” been parodied by a number of our childhood cartoons, like Arthur and Hey Arnold?

But why do people go to the opera? Why do they purchase expensive tickets to watch a musical in a language most of them probably don’t understand?  Is it to just enjoy the visual and sensory art? Or is it to be seen?

The opera is an image that I’ve always connected to the upper class of New York. I’ve always thought the purpose of the opera (besides providing entertainment, of course) was to gather together people of high society. They had to establish who had the most money. Intermission, I imagined must be the preferred part of the spectacle. Because it is then, during the break, that they are able to converse and compare and compete.

“We’ve just gotten back form Milan, dahhling.”

“Well, how did they manage to attain those seats?”

“My goodness, look at her gown, it is simply dee-vine!”

I can visualize them now, dressed up in their fancy suits and gowns, wearing the very best in jewelry, and sipping ridiculously expensive champagne. But such must be the life a New York socialite. What else would they do with their time?

And I have to wonder how much of them really enjoy what is happening before them onstage. Do they find the opera genuinely interesting? – Because of course, the Upper Crust of New York must be extremely cultured and fond of all the classic arts – Or do they find the whole idea of the opera mandatory? They sit through it because it is simply what people of their status do.

I think I’ve always associated the opera to wealthy New Yorkers because the idea of me, a regular girl from a regular middle class family in Queens, attending such a performance has never really fit in my head. People of status attend operas, people of wealth. I’ve always stuck to school plays and off-off Broadway productions. But apparently for this class we’re supposed to see “Don Giovanni” at the Metropolitan Opera House. I’m nervous, I don’t think I’m going to have a gown “dee-vine” enough for the setting. Oh well.

I have a stereotypical view of uptown/wealthy New York. When I first think of wealth on the Upper East Side I think of rich white people in lavish penthouse apartments. Many images come to my mind of narcissistic women who hide behind their designer bags, shoes, sunglasses and fur coats. I imagine their husbands to be corporate businessmen wearing the most expensive suits and driving their brand new S-class Mercedes. These images I have are very stereotypical and in reality most people are probably not like this, but this is my view as an average New Yorker.

When I think of a day in the life of a wealthy family on the Upper East Side I don’t know what to think of other than the images and characters that Hollywood has pushed onto my imagination since I was born. I suspect that the husband is a workaholic businessman that becomes so involved in making money that he becomes disconnected from his wife and children. The children are not taken care of by the mother but instead by a nanny who has the task of rearing the children and being more of a mother to them. These children a boy and a girl are driven in a limo to and from a wealthy private school that all of the other children of the social elite go to. During the day the mother plans parties with her friends while they go out to eat and the father is at the office. On a normal day the children come back home and are fed and bathed by the nanny. They spend some time with their mother, do their homework and are off to bed. The father comes home late at night and spends absolutely no time with his children. He and his wife sometimes spend time together but mostly they fight because of their disconnected lives. This unhealthy cycle goes on until the day where husband and wife are separated and the family is torn apart.

Why do I have this perception? I have no real experience of wealthy New York other than what my parents have told me and what I have seen on television. When I was smaller sometimes I used to go on drives with my family throughout Manhattan. I keenly remember my mom pointing out apartment buildings in one area and telling me that the richest people in the world must live in there. As an outsider of the world of the rich and famous this is the only type of view I can fathom in my mind.

I had never really been a materialistic person. Maybe that’s why I don’t understand how people are willing to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on clothing and jewelry. I’ve walked down 5th Avenue only a few times in my life, and each time I pass by the gleaming designer stores with the fancy ceiling-to-floor doors and the “professional” employees, I wonder what is so alluring about brand names that wealthy people would want to spend a fortune on, instead of spending their money on more practical things.

My friend and I stepped into a few of the stores once, just to “experience” what it would be like to shop with the hoity-toity of New York. We would casually stroll around the store, ignoring the glares of the snooty salespeople, who have already decided amongst themselves that there was no way we would be able to afford anything in the store, given the way we were dressed. I picked up a Gucci bag from the shelf. $2400 for a small tote?! I was in utter disbelief. What could this bag possibly be made of, for it to be so expensive? My friend and I instantly left the store. We never returned, and I don’t think I ever will.

I don’t have anything against wealthy people. Most of them worked hard for their money. However, I completely disagree with what they feel is most important. If I become just as successful one day, I would hope that my money would contribute to a good cause, instead of wasted on clothing and handbags that would be considered “so last season” within months. Sure, I would treat myself to a few luxuries here and there, but I see no reason in investing such a great amount of money on something superficial. Do I really need a 5,000 evening gown that I’ll wear only once?

This picture of 5th Avenue reminds me that there is still a huge distinction between the upper class and lower class. Even in America, there are people starving in the streets. There is a rapidly increasing rate of unemployment. People are struggling just to get a bite to eat each day while others are shopping on 5th Avenue, not giving a second thought as they hand over their platinum credit card, eager to get to the next store. I feel that if they have the ability to, wealthy people should put more consideration into helping those who are less fortunate. I’m sure if they contributed to their society more or made a difference in someone’s life, they would feel much more contentment than finally getting their hands on the coveted Prada Fall Collection handbag.

I remember dreaming of being rich and having a big house with maids and butlers to wait on my every need when I was younger. Oh yes, and a personal chef would be nice too. However, as I got older, I’ve realized that although on a worldwide scale, I’m living in the richest country, on a more local level….not so much.

While I was once bothered by not living in the glamorized New York that is often  in film and literature, I’ve come to terms with my current location. That’s not to say that the beauty of Manhattan is not accessible, in fact, the trip there takes no time at all. However, the difference is one glamorous train ride away, in contrast to a step out of a fancy apartment complex on Central Park West.

Central Park is one of the first things that makes me think of a “wealthy” New York. Preferably at night, and preferably in a horse drawn carriage. In this aspect, the rooftop view from the Anthony Caro exhibit is the perfect example. The lighting, the height, the scenery. Not to mention the plethora of pretentious individuals drinking their fancy martinis. It was a scene that could have easily taken place in a film about upscale New Yorkers.

However, I’ve come to decide Central Park might not be the safest place at night. Maybe I’ve watched too many movies, but I’ve heard far too mugging stories for the glory of Central Park to prevail after dark. In addition, I’ve come to decide  that horse drawn carriages are not only inhumane, but smelly. Alas, arises the dilemma of selecting my ideal image of  “Uptown/wealthy New York.”

After watching Woody Allen’s “Manhattan,” a scene that has prevailed with me is the infamous image of Diane Keaton and Allen under the Brooklyn. Although I’ve walked the Brooklyn Bridge, I’ve never been to the exact location of the scene (mainly because I couldn’t find it). Perhaps I’ve linked it’s unattainable prestige with its unattainable location. Nonetheless, this image of the Manhattan skyline from just outside this city is an image that captures the splendor of this city. The city has a particular allure to it after sunset, with the buildings illuminated and the moon shining bright. From afar, the city seems so tranquil, and yet full of life at the same time.

The view from the bridge creates the illusion that when one enters Manhattan, they are entering a new world. A world isolated by this moat that we call the East River. A world full of magic. A world full of opportunity, and of people rushing through life, trying to seize that opportunity.

Yes, my image of wealthy Manhattan is one of many ideologies. But maybe that’s because in the back of my mind I’m still dreaming of maids, butlers and a life of privilege. Nevertheless, I shall enjoy the splendor of my city, regardless of my current location. After all, you don’t need to live in the Upper East Side to be a true New Yorker.

Well, I must confess—I really haven’t spent much time in Uptown!  I’m a Long Island girl who generally spends most of her time in Midtown (shopping, duhhhh).  But continuing with the shopping train of thought, there’s no more famous area for that in Uptown than 5^th Avenue.  I’ve only been in one store on 5^th Avenue, and I think it’s safe to say that it was the fanciest store I’ve ever been in in my entire life (I’ve walked by the Paris Louis Vuitton, but I didn’t go in.  That just would’ve been embarrassing).  So which store was it?  I’ll give you some hints:  It has crystal-clear jewelry cases, gleaming silver as far as the eye can see, and lots and lots of little blue boxes.  I’m sure the girls know what I’m talking about—Tiffany and Co, the mecca of 925 sterling silver.

The only time I’ve ever been in Tiffany’s was right after my 16^th birthday in May 2009.  My parents bought me a ring for my birthday from there, but it was a size too big for my baby hands (seriously, they’re really small.  In high school I had to buy the skinniest class ring to keep it from looking like clown jewelry).  The day we went into the city to get it resized also happened to be an abnormally hot day, so by the time we walked to 57^th street I was nice and sweaty.  Not the best way to make a 5^th Avenue entrance, trust me.  But when I walked in, all was forgotten as I felt a gust of cool air and was blinded by the gleam of the beautiful silver.

…Not really, but if I was Audrey Hepburn that might’ve happened.  Although I truly had never been surrounded by so much beautiful jewelry before in my life…and so much beautiful jewelry I could never even dream of owning.  So sad!  But I digress—I was not there to browse, I was there on serious business!  I had a ring to get resized!  So in we went to the elevators, and I remember I was amazed that there was actually a man inside who pushed the buttons for you!  The wealthy don’t even have to push their own elevators buttons!  No wonder my 12 year-old niece aspires to be a trophy wife.

When we got off at the customer service floor, I was even more amazed.  The only customer service rooms I had ever been in were at Macy’s and Kohls, and both of those are pretty bland and miserable.  Not at Tiffany’s!  Plush couches and coffee tables replaced plastic chairs and crying babies (although there really wasn’t a need for coffee tables, since I think you would probably get thrown out if you ate in there).  When our turn finally came, we sat at a little booth that had blinders on the side so you couldn’t see the other customers (I guess people like to keep their jewelry problems private nowadays?).  The lady who helped me was shockingly nice—she not only quickly resized my ring by spinning it around in what I assume is called the magic ring-resizer machine, she also gave me a free silver polishing cloth and offered to steam-clean the Tiffany necklace I was wearing free of charge!  I’d never had better customer service in my life!  I later recounted the story to my aunt, who was disappointingly unimpressed—“That’s what they’re supposed to do.  You paid all that money for their jewelry; they want to keep you happy.”  Maybe so, but nobody could put a damper on my little glimpse into the lifestyle of the rich and famous 5^th Avenue shopper.  So even though Tiffany’s is by default my image of Uptown, I would say that it’s a pretty good one.  And to the Hollywood movie producers who are undoubtedly reading my blog—if you ever decide to remake Breakfast at Tiffany’s, call me.  Seriously.  My range in incredible.  My only request it that you let me eat breakfast at the Tiffany’s customer service coffee table instead of in a café across the street.

To be honest, it took me a while to come up with something that epitomized my idea of wealthy NYC. I tried to think of stuff that was really expensive. It took a while for the answer to come to me but when it did, I was so HAPPY!! I started doing a little dance because I was so excited, but thankfully, nobody was home.

When I think of wealthy NYC, I think of people worrying about the smallest things and affording the most expensive things. Sometimes when people have a lot of money, they’ll buy an expensive car, diamonds, travel the world. But other times, rich people pay a crazy amount of money for something that’s gonna pass right through them.

A few years ago, I went with my mom and dad to Madison Avenue. We were just looking from store to store and walked in to a store, whose name I never paid attention to. We were looking around. My dad wandered off and did some exploring on his own. It was just me and my mom. We saw things that we were unfamiliar with. My mom, being my mom, pointed at these soft, round, wet things and asked a lady what it was. The lady scoffed, looked at my mom, said “CAVIAAAR,” and walked away. She was an incredibly rich and rude lady. My mom looked at me, shook her head and said we should leave, so I found my dad and we all left the store, never to return again.

Sometimes, what people are willing to pay, let’s say for something to eat, is RIDICULOUS!

I heard about caviar being a luxury delicacy and it being really expensive. It kind of made sense as to why rich people would pay for something like that. But when I found out that caviar is fish eggs, my mind was blown. I just could not understand why someone would pay so much money to eat fish eggs. I googled the price and found it to be roughly $100 per ounce of caviar. I find that to be a crazy amount of money to throw away like that. Some people actually like caviar and that’s great. Others just say they like it because they’re “supposed” to, because they’re rich, because they can afford it.