The East Village hasn't always been so trendy. In my first couple of years out of college, in the mid 1990s, anything east of 1st Avenue was a venture afield. A few places had popped up on Avenue A. But I also remember that suggesting doing anything on Avenue A was at least minimally controversial.

Then something strange happened. By the late 1990s, propelled by a whole new wave of young socialites with disposable dot-com income, the East Village became hot. There was a new kind of East Village snob-- someone who, oddly enough, was totally intolerant of hanging out anywhere besides in the half-refined, half-edgy East Village. Forget suggesting at work doing something on the boring Upper West Side or maybe even on Hudson Street. It was either d.b.a. or nothing.

By 2000, the organic authenticity of Avenue A had been replaced by yards of velvet rope. Soon after, Nightingale, a grungy old rock haunt on 2nd Avenue known for launching a number of successful bands, became the Nightingale Lounge (cursive neon sign included). The frontier was now well past Avenue B, so Avenue A was mainstream. One night in 2000, a friend from high school took me to a supposedly hip place on B and maybe 12th or 11th, and we arrived, and everyone was wearing J. Crew.

Today, for someone used to the more nuanced confines of Hell's Kitchen, the East Village is now too crowded, too noisy, and like so many other neighborhoods, so in that it's out. Weeknights are fine; it's as pleasant as any other neighborhood. But on weekends, it takes too long to cross the street, walk your way through crowds, make your way through anywhere, and get a cab home.

I guess I still like the East Village overall. But it's been remarkable to witness such a huge transformation in not that many years.