There is a peculiar tendency to associate not only modishness, but also integrity, with geographic location. Places come to symbolize a state of mind and a style of living that exalt or debase their residents: one associates passion and incontinence with the steamy climates, and a kind of stolid, robust energy with the frozen North. So for those who aspire to status or sanctimony, the trick is to live in the right place at the right time. Naturally, locations go in and out of vogue. Cannes was once the watering place of the wealthy; now it’s the watercooler of the bourgeoisie. Moral and social climates change, so you have to keep moving to retain your integrity and your social prominence.
Having entered its ideological menopause, the Berkeley generation (my own) is now plotting strategic points of entry into middle class adulthood, and for that, geographic location is almost as salient as professional occupation. (The young, especially, have a lofty residential consciousness—an arrogance of place that comes with rootless mobility and free choice.)
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