I remember this one time, I was trying to explain to my ‘not-from-The-City’ cousin, Brenda, why I couldn't just "pop over" to her Brooklyn apartment for a quick coffee. I mean, "quick" is, like, relative, Brenda. She lives, what, a mere five subway stops away? But that involves, like, gasp, actually going underground. In New York City, your whole existence is measured in how many steps you can take without accidentally making eye contact with a tourist or, heaven forbid, touching a turnstile with your bare hand.
I was explaining how my morning pilates class on the Upper East Side runs until 10:30, and then I have my bespoke matcha appointment, and then I have to swing by the gallery to approve the new Rothko installation's placement. This is real talk, not frontin'. Brenda just blinked and said, “So, you’re busy?” I had to laugh. Bless her heart. She just didn't get the vibe. See, being an "elitist New Yorker"—which, ugh, I prefer "chronically discerning Manhattanite"—isn't a job. It's a full-time, dead-ass performance art piece. You gotta be on your A-game, or you might as well be living in... shudder... New Jersey. It's a whole mood, a lifestyle, and if you wanna roll with the big dogs, you gotta learn the ropes.
Step 1: Mastering the Art of The Disdainful Glance
This is, like, the most foundational move. You gotta get this down cold. It’s not about being rude, per se. It’s about signaling that your personal space is, quite literally, worth mad guap.
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| How Does It Feel To Be An Elitist New York |
1.1 The Stare-Through
You know those folks who look at you like you’re not even there? Na' mean? That’s the pro move. Your eyes should be focused somewhere between the other person's hairline and the general horizon. If they try to engage, a very slight, almost imperceptible tilt of the head is all you need. This confirms you heard them, but also that their query is tragically irrelevant to your existence. For example, if someone asks for directions to Times Square, just point vaguely South and then immediately check your Swiss-made timepiece. It sends a message. A clear message.
1.2 The Clothing Code: Quiet Luxury, Loud Price Tag
Honey, we don't do big logos. That’s for people who need to tell you they have money. We wear things that look, honestly, a little boring. A heather gray cashmere sweater. Simple, clean, gucci. Except that sweater costs more than a used whip and the tailor who made your jeans knows your dog's favorite kind of organic kibble. The trick is to look effortlessly polished, like you just woke up like this—after an 8-hour sleep cycle, because you pay for silence in this city. If it has a tag that screams "status," it's whack.
Reminder: Short breaks can improve focus.
Step 2: The Unofficial Rules of The City
You can’t just live here. You gotta own it, even if you only rent a pre-war shoebox for the price of a small-town mansion. This is where you separate the kids from the grown-ups.
2.1 The Downtown vs. Uptown Beef
This is a deadass important distinction. Uptown is classic, old-money, formal dinners, and Central Park West addresses. It's beautiful, but a little… thirsty. Downtown, baby, that's where the real cake is—the cultural capital. Think TriBeCa, West Village, maybe a boujee spot in SoHo. You gotta be able to effortlessly switch from discussing your Hamptons summer share (it was just too much a schlep this year, honestly) to nodding knowingly about the latest off-Broadway play that only 12 people saw. If someone asks where you live, you don't give a neighborhood. You give a street corner. "West 11th, near the park." Wavy.
2.2 Transportation: A Social Minefield
First off, you do not take the subway unless you are going to a place that requires you to say, "I took the subway!" for a quick, self-deprecating laugh. Otherwise, it’s a black car service, always. And never, ever hail a yellow cab. That’s something you see in the movies. You use the app, and you complain madly about the surge pricing to the driver, even though the fare is literally a rounding error on your Amex Black card. The ultimate move? Walking. But only for two blocks, between the chic boutique and the even chic-er restaurant. It shows you're grounded, but also that your time is too valuable to spend stuck in traffic.
Step 3: Cultivating Your Inner Curator
Being an elitist isn't about consuming stuff. It’s about curating your life like a museum exhibit. Everything must be bespoke, artisanal, and sourced from a vendor whose name you only know the first initial of.
Tip: Check back if you skimmed too fast.
3.1 The Foodie Fakery
You don't just "eat dinner." You dine at a venerable institution with a three-month waitlist, or, even better, a secret pop-up that only your inner circle knows about. When discussing food, you must drop hella specific terms. It's not "steak," it’s "grass-fed, 45-day dry-aged wagyu from a small farm upstate." And if you see a line for a cronut, you gotta grill them. Seriously? Waiting in line? That’s aggravating. A true New York elitist has a contact who gets them one delivered stat. If you’re trippin’ over a wait time, you haven't mastered the game.
3.2 The Filtered Friend Group
Listen, son, your social life is your most important asset. You can’t be linkin’ with just anybody. Your friends must be either ridiculously successful in a field you barely understand (like "fintech" or "disruptive sustainability"), or so wildly charming they could get into an exclusive club just by smiling. You have to speak in code, too. "Oh, we go way back, from the boat," or "We met at school," which means a hyper-expensive boarding school, not, like, high school. And you always talk about leaving New York for the weekend, even if your "escape" is just a high-floor apartment overlooking the harbor. It’s about the option to escape the common folk, na' mean?
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Step 4: Performing the Humble Brag (The Final Level)
This is the peak. The pinnacle. You’re so secure in your elite status that you can pretend you’re just a regular kid trying to make it. Spoiler alert: you are not.
4.1 "Oh, This Old Thing?"
Tip: Reading on mobile? Zoom in for better comfort.
When someone compliments your ridiculously expensive handbag or your penthouse view, you must feign shock that they would even notice. "Oh, this? It's just something I schlepped back from Paris. It was getting dusty in the back of the closet." Or, about your three-story, glass-walled apartment: "It's a little small, honestly. The kitchen is kinda cramped for the private chef, but hey, you make it work, right?" The trick is to undersell your possessions while simultaneously overselling the minor inconveniences of extreme wealth.
4.2 The Burden of Connections
You have so many famous friends, so many "people you know" in powerful places, that it’s actually a burden. If someone mentions a major political figure, a Broadway star, or a world-renowned gallery owner, you casually mention, "Oh, yeah, I saw them at the Hamptons Classic. They were having a mad tight time. We just talked about, like, finding good schools for their kid." You’re not trying to impress, you’re just providing context. The best part is that you don't even have to lie. That's how this dead-ass city works.
It feels like wearing a very expensive, slightly scratchy wool sweater: uncomfortable sometimes, but everyone knows you paid for it. And honestly, you look fire. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go, my driver is aggravated and I'm late for my sound-bath meditation. Ciao, for now!
FAQ Questions and Answers
How to get into the "in-the-know" New York spots?
You gotta start small, kid. Don't go to the places tourists find on Google. Ask your bartender—not the one at the chain spot, but the one at the dark, wavy little cocktail den—where they hang out. Then, go there and just peep the scene, don't be thirsty.
Tip: Don’t skip the small notes — they often matter.
How to dress like a New York elitist without spending all my cake?
Focus on quality basics. A fantastic pair of well-tailored trousers, a really good coat, and excellent shoes. Everything should be clean and look intentional. We call it 'stealth wealth.' If it looks cheap or too shiny, it’s a flop.
What should I talk about to sound money in a social setting?
Avoid talking about work too much unless it’s very abstract. Talk about your passion projects: that documentary you’re funding, the ethical coffee brand you're consulting for, or your agonizing decision about which island to buy property on. Keep it high-level, and always sound slightly drid by the sheer amount of options you have.
How to properly insult something using New York slang?
If something is terrible, you say it's whack or ratchet. If someone is overdoing it, they're frontin'. If you're completely serious, you’re dead-ass. The key is to deliver the slang with no expression, like you’re saying something totally mundane.
How to handle the schlep (long journey) from Manhattan to other boroughs?
You simply don't. If you must go to another borough, you frame it as a cultural expedition—like you're a benevolent explorer visiting a foreign land. You only go for a mad important reason, like an amazing ethnic restaurant or an underground music venue. You never say, "I'm going to Queens." You say, "I'm doing a food tour in Jackson Heights." See the difference?
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