But the most trenchant defense may simply be that in world capitals, the affluent class that drinks $15 cocktails is slowly pushing everyone else out of the way, and with them, more and more of what remains of their city’s individual character. Cleese later
elaborated on his tweet, saying that he found the London of his youth “calmer, more polite, more humorous, less tabloid, and less money-oriented than the one that is replacing it.”
The great global cities are ports on a great ocean of international capital, and the people who sail so profitably upon it are outbidding everyone else for a tightly restricted supply of housing. The more they dominate the housing market, the more everything else upscales and homogenizes to cater to their tastes. The result is reassuring for the traveling class, but also faintly depressing, since it removes one of the main reasons people used to travel: expanding their horizons, and broadening their comfort zone.
Of course, this might be just a fine bit of nostalgia from one old fogy, and one fogy-in-training. But while nostalgia can blind us with rose-colored glasses, it can also occasionally open our eyes to things we’ve lost, and the ones we’re letting slip away.