SoHo last night and this morning was filled to the black leather and torn denim brim with Spanish speaking Latino tourists with mucho dinero. Lots of “blonde” women with injected cheeks and original noses taking selfie after selfie of their fabulous vacation. Every moment camera worthy of collecting memories of that time when Maria Consuelo took out her phone and got the perfect angle of Fatima and America with the perfect lighting and the perfect filter in front of that cool place they never actually went into.

This morning at brunch, I could tell instantly I was at a tourist trap because the place had a piano player and he was playing the theme from La La Land. It was kind of meta.

I don’t begrudge tourists. I am one. What I don’t understand is trying to encapsulate everything that makes SoHo the fun, (not so) edgy, urban spot in a photograph to impress other people with a sophistication that photo sharing inherently lacks.

If you’ll remember, all of this started when they invented the carousel for the slide projector and geeky 60’s fathers, back from WWII and eager for stability, narrated trips to Hawaii. Click. Carousel moves forward one position. Everyone oohs and ahs, and a bit of envy is imparted with every shot. It all just went to hell after that, didn’t it?