Friends and Sex & The City put this trendy neighborhood on the map. Now, Gen Z has obliviously killed a lot of its charm.
The West Village has long stood as one of New York City’s most romanticized neighborhoods — a cobblestoned haven once defined by radical politics, bohemian creatives and generations of LGBTQ+ activists who shaped its identity block by block.
It was a place for eccentrics, misfits and visionaries. Now, it’s something else entirely: a curated stage for content.
Today’s West Village isn’t being shaped by radicals, but by ring lights. The Cut’s Brock Colyar dubbed them ‘West Village Girls’ — a new wave of influencer archetypes who’ve transformed the neighborhood into their personal content studio.
Stroll down Bleecker on a Saturday and you’ll see it: matcha lattes balanced on stoops, Reformation dresses catching the light, and iPhones mounted on tripods like paparazzi in waiting.
The old haunts of poets and queer pioneers have given way to aesthetic cafés and TikTok-famous bagel shops. What was once a neighborhood of ideas is now a live-action Instagram grid — aspirational, branded and algorithm-approved.
This transformation didn’t happen overnight. It started in the late ’90s and early 2000s, when shows like Sex and the City and Friends made the West Village feel like the epicenter of stylish New York life.
Carrie Bradshaw’s stoop on Perry Street became a pilgrimage site, while Monica and Rachel’s improbably large apartment anchored the fantasy.
Pictured: Emi Martinez-Zalce posing in front of the infamous Perry Street stoop from Sex and the City
Pictured: A woman takes a photo of the building known as the ‘Friends apartment’ following the death of 54-year-old actor Matthew Perry, known for his role as ‘Chandler Bing’ in the TV series named ‘Friends’
Pictured: Carrie Bradshaw and Steve Brady from Sex and the City sitting on her stoop
These shows didn’t just reflect the culture — they helped rewrite it, drawing thousands to the area in search of their own perfectly lit version of city living.
Today, the scripted fantasy continues — just in vertical video format. As Compass real estate agent Phillip Salem, 38, puts it, the West Village has shifted from ‘quaint charm to curated chaos.’
‘People think they want the West Village because it feels like the New York they’ve seen on TV,’ Salem, who’s worked in the neighborhood since 2017, told the DailyMail.com. ‘But then they show up and realize it’s become a Gen-Z playground.’
That influx isn’t just social — it’s financial. ‘Last year, many 20-somethings and their parents were buying apartments for them, all cash,’ Salem said. ‘Some just out of NYU, getting gifted an apartment.’
Inventory is limited, demand is relentless, and the aesthetic is everything. ‘Gen Zs aren’t making TikToks on the Upper East Side,’ he said. ‘I had a two-bedroom listing last year, and there were only, like, seven in the whole Village.’
Even those who can’t afford to live in the Village still come to film, brunch and be seen. ‘It’s become more commercial and childish,’ Salem said.
Twenty-year-old filmmaker Emi Martinez-Zalce felt that energy immediately. On a recent trip from Montreal, she was struck by the Village’s cinematic glow.
‘I loved it; I genuinely want to live there,’ she told the DailyMail.com. ‘Sex and the City is having a big Gen Z resurgence. I watched it three times this year.’
Pictured: The Friends cast gathered in Rachel and Monica’s West Village apartment
Bleecker and Perry Streets are now pilgrimage sites for fans of Sex and the City and Friends, whose filming locations helped mythologize the area
Pictured: The 66 Perry Street stoop, featured in Sex and the City, has been closed off by the real owners of the town home – but that doesn’t stop tourists from visiting
Pictured: Emi Martinez-Zalce and her friends posing outside of Magnolia Bakery, as seen in Sex and the City
She made her way to Carrie Bradshaw’s stoop — but skipped the line of influencers taking turns posing. ‘There were like 30 girls taking pictures,’ she said, laughing. ‘I was like, “I’m not doing that.”
By day, the Village was teeming with yoga mats and canvas tote bags. By night, she said, ‘It turned into this really warm space with pubs that I love.’ It reminded her of When Harry Met Sally.
Martinez-Zalce doesn’t buy into the backlash against ‘teenage girls taking over.’ As she sees it, they’re just another wave in the Village’s long tradition of cultural redefinition.
‘They’re being themselves in a space that curates to their vibe,’ she said. ‘People hate on girls when they form fan communities — but that doesn’t make it bad.’
That tension — between nostalgia and novelty — runs through many Village residents.
For Joanne Spataro, who has lived near Bleecker and Perry for nearly eight years, the shift has been both dramatic and disorienting.
‘I’m going to be 40 this year, so I really don’t fit the mold of these twenty-something, Aperol Spritz-guzzling gals,’ she told the DailyMail.com. Still, she’s not leaving.
‘There are still these bohemian pockets. My besties either grew up here, have been here over 30 years, or are queer, diverse, artists — they get the neighborhood vibe.’
Joanne Spataro still remains loyal to the Village, praising its enduring ‘bohemian pockets’ and urging newcomers to embrace its deeper roots
The neighborhood’s architecture — low-rise prewar buildings, brownstones, and cobblestone streets — has long contributed to its postcard-perfect, ‘quintessential New York’ look
A new archetype, dubbed ‘West Village Girls,’ has emerged. Coined by The Cut, this term refers to Gen Z content creators who treat the neighborhood as a backdrop for TikTok and Instagram posts
Spataro is fiercely protective of that spirit. ‘These girlies are out in force, and they literally don’t know how to say “excuse me”,’ she said, dubbing their invasion the ‘Attack of the Clones.’
One particularly chaotic weekend led to her evicting a group of frat boys from her previous building. ‘I am like the basement witch of the West Village,’ she said.
To her, the Village isn’t a backdrop — it’s a place of becoming. ‘It could be a real coming-out place for them,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to fit in here — you can stand out.’
Still, she sees the effects of its popularity everywhere: higher rents, longer lines, curated storefronts.
‘They’ve created this monster they don’t realize they’ve created,’ she said. ‘Are you really thrilled you now have these long lines at Apollo Bagel?’
And yet, she remains hopeful. ‘Change is inevitable,’ she said. ‘But let’s have more self-awareness and respect for others. Because I will be here long after the last sip of your aperol spritz, sweetie.’
Liz Hopkins, 35, lived on Charles and Washington for two years — close enough to Dante (yes, that Dante — the once-laid-back aperitivo bar now transformed into a posh, It-girl magnet where martinis come in threes and tables are booked weeks in advance) to feel like a local, and just long enough to feel pushed out.
‘It was, like, kind of cramped,’ she told the DailyMail.com. ‘And I feel like it was just invaded with white tanks and baggy jeans.’
Former resident Liz Hopkins left after the crowds and chaos became too much, though she looks back fondly on her time there
In recent years, the Village has become a hotspot for influencers, particularly Gen Z women dubbed ‘West Village Girls’ by The Cut
She scored the apartment through a friend who moved to L.A. but stayed on the lease, keeping her rent at a relatively tame $4,000 a month. Still, the charm wore thin.
‘Bayard’s used to be a hole-in-the-wall. Then suddenly, there was a line around the block.’
Even coffee became a battle. ‘Saturday mornings were insane,’ she said. ‘The line was down the block. I was like, “You’re literally waiting for coffee?”‘
She’s since moved on. ‘The West Village was a great part of my NYC fairytale,’ she said. ‘I was just ready for the next chapter.’
But not everyone’s ready to close the book. Kiana Peters, 27, moved to the Village in 2020 thanks to a pandemic discount: $2,500 for a co-op studio that used to go for nearly $4,000.
‘I was like, I can make this. I could do it,’ she told the DailyMail.com.
Fresh out of Cornell and working in tech, she found instant community — doormen who knew her name, bartenders who remembered her birthday, neighbors who shared pastries on the stoop.
‘It felt like college in the best way,’ she said.
Real estate is highly competitive and often sold in all-cash deals, with wealthy parents buying apartments for 20-somethings just out of NYU
Inventory is scarce — some agents report only a handful of available two-bedrooms at a given time across the neighborhood
That changed in 2023, when rent surged and TikTokers moved in.
It bucks a trend within the village too. In early 2021, one bedroom and two bedroom prices averaged $3,263 and $4,133 respectively, according to Rent Cafe. Now, they’re at $5,375 and $6,700.
By October 2024, the median asking rent of all apartments listed in Greenwich Village – of which the West Village is part – was $5,800, according to the New York Times.
The pricy uptick could also be seen in restaurants and bars.
‘It really hit me when Peculier Pub started charging a cover,’ Peters said. ‘That bar used to feel like ours.’
Kiana Peters’ $2,500 co-op studio she rented
Now, she feels caught in the middle. ‘It’s an identity crisis,’ she said. ‘You’re old enough to cringe at the TikToks but still young enough to want to be in the middle of it.’
But move out? Not a chance. ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to leave,’ she said.
Attorney Howard Weller, 61, has lived in the West Village for 40 years. He remembers when Bleecker Street was home to Kim’s Video, Rebel Records, and the Tiffany Diner. ‘It was kind of sleepy and locally nice,’ he told the DailyMail.com.
Now, he says, the Village is louder, livelier — and not necessarily worse.
‘It’s been diluted with people coming in from all over, which is kind of nice, actually. It gives it some energy.’
He understands the longing for what was, but embraces what’s next.
‘A little commercial infusion is better than having empty storefronts,’ he said.
For now, the West Village remains what it’s always been: a neighborhood in flux, constantly reinventing itself.
The faces change, the vibe shifts, the lines get longer. But one thing stays the same — it’s still the place where people come to figure out who they are, even if the packaging looks a little different.
