We survived the New York invasion that is Art Basel, but make no mistake: New Yorkers are still very much among us and will be for the rest of the season. While both cities may be noted for their diverse makeup, rudeness, and cosmopolitan flair, we still can't help but view New Yorkers as something of a strange breed very different from ourselves.
Oh sure, this list of ten differences between Miamians and New Yorkers relies a bit too heavily on stereotypes of the jet-setting type of New Yorker who flies here for Basel and New Year's Eve. But considering most New Yorkers are convinced the only part of Miami is South Beach, we don't feel too bad about it.
New Yorkers judge a party by the guest list. Miamians judge a party by how fun it is.
New Yorkers like to pretend they're unphased by celebs and other boldfaced notables, but read just about any party or nightlife report in New York City and you'll find a list of the VIP in attendance high up in the story. Miamians, meanwhile, seem to get more excited about elements of a party that would play into their own personal pleasure. Namely, free booze, dancing, and a concentration of good-looking people they might actually have a shot with.
Let's put it this way: New Yorkers would go to a letter opening if it were hosted by Anna Wintour, Lena Dunham, and Jay Z. Miamians would go to a letter opening if there were a good DJ and an open bar.
New Yorkers Can't Dance
Poor New Yorkers. It's not totally their fault. Mayor Rudi Giuliani's dumbest legacy is his no-dancing law that literally prohibits more than three people dancing at any given time in a bar or nightclub without the proper license. Have you seen New Yorkers try to cut it at a Miami party? It's all finger-pointing and awkward side steps. Miamians, meanwhile, pretty much take the opportunity to dance just about anywhere, and no one can stop them.
New Yorkers are afraid of color in the wardrobe. Miamians certainly aren't.
Here's what happens when you Google "New York Style":
So bland! So neutral!
Here's what happens when you Google Image search "Miami style." (With the embracing caveat that we had to filter out searches involving the Kardashians. Damn it, gossip blogs!)
Wow! Much color! Such patterns!
Miamians can't drive well. New Yorkers just can't drive.
A word of warning to anyone from lesser cities: Never get into a car with either a Miamian or a New Yorker, but for two different reasons. Most Miamians drive every damn day -- in Miami -- which has left them soulless monsters behind the wheel, ready to cut off anyone and lurch across three lanes of traffic without so much as a nod, much less a blinker. New Yorkers, on the other hand, never drive. They just kind of sit behind the wheel while blabbering about the subway and how they haven't had a car since they graduated from Sarah Lawrence.
New Yorkers care who their neighbors are. Miamians know better than to ask.
The most notorious facet of high-end New York real estate are the co-op boards. Before you move into a fancy condo building, you have to sit before your potential neighbors and answer all sorts of crazy questions about your life and personal finances. Miamians, conversely, know better than to do that. If you buy a luxury condo in Miami, you take on the very real risk that you'll be living next door to a porn mogul, drug kingpin, or Russian mobster. Ignorance is bliss.
New Yorkers have a civic superiority complex. Miamians have a civic inferiority complex.
New Yorkers are pretty much convinced they live in the best city in the world, and you can't convince them otherwise. They'll just laugh in your face. Miamians, meanwhile, have the odd character of constantly talking shit about their own city while simultaneously rabidly defending it against outsiders who dare do the same.
New Yorkers love cocaine a helluva lot more.
The only snow in Miami is cocaine, but despite stereotypes, we're not all doing it all the time. New Yorkers, though, seem to sneak bumps at a much higher rate -- at least when they're down here. Don't believe us? Check out this interview Vice did with a local dealer during Art Basel:
I don't know what it is about New Yorkers, but they are all cokeheads. New Yorkers pay the most for the worst shit, so it's easy to impress them. To us, all New Yorkers are rich. A New Yorker that works a shitty job still gets paid the same as a hardworking person in Miami. New Yorkers are all blood-diamond rich. It's crazy.
Hell, a surprising number of people in Miami we know with coke problems began dabbling in the stuff during a stint in New York.
New Yorkers get stressed about being late. Miamians just accept it as a fact of life.
New Yorkers are always in a rush -- stealing taxis and cramming themselves into overcrowded subway cars in the name of being on time. Miamians, meanwhile, have gotten a little too accustomed to the idea that being on time is being early, and being 15 minutes late is getting there on time -- and that's during the day. Miamians read the start time of a party or social function and half of them plan to get there an hour after, and don't actually show up until two hours later.
New Yorkers strive to be skinny. Miamians strive to have curves.
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SHOW ME HOW
Living in both cities can make you feel bad about your own body, but for different reasons. The ideal body type for both sexes in NYC is gangly 14-year-old boy with toothpick legs and a lollipop head. Miami, meanwhile, is all about the meatier and the curvier, whether it be the booty in a lady's Brazilian jeans or the biceps bulging from a dude's tank top. At least our unattainable body ideal is slightly healthier.
New Yorkers give up in frustration on their big-city lives. Miamians often kind of find themselves stuck here.
Both cities have a high number of transplants. The story of the New York transplant is that it's their dream to move there, and eventually they're crushed by the realities of big-city life and they either return sadly to whence they came or stick it out just long enough to find someone to shack up with and move to Connecticut or Long Island to live that commuter life. Miami transplants, on the other hand, just kind of end up here for reasons they're not even sure of, sometimes not planning to stay long and then waking up ten years later and thinking, Oh, crap, I'm still here? Well, it could be worse.