Grit as amenity

This story intrigued me. I know many people for whom "grit", that is, living a rougher sort of life in a rougher sort of place, is a very attractive option to have. A former co-worker couldn't get used to the gentleness of San Francisco, and made a move back to the East Coast - I think he lives in Brooklyn or the Bronx now. But more and more, I feel I'm running into these sorts of people, particularly in my age cohort. I've even had similar tendencies - when I go back to Philly, I revel in the grime, the mean streets, the stone faces. It's charming, in a way. This article really hit home when talking about gentrification:

'Robert Gross, an executive vice president at Prudential Douglas Elliman, sees the area as attracting "someone who still seeks some semblance of the grit that makes New York New York."

'Yet the prevailing thesis is that grit is not so easily found in the East Village as it once was. As with other New York neighborhoods, development has ushered in safer streets, and with them the suspicion that something has been lost.'

It reminds me a bit of this song, by LCD Soundsystem (much more effective with the actual music):

New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down

Like a rat in a cage
Pulling minimum wage
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down

New York, you're safer
And you're wasting my time
Our records all show
You are filthy but fine

But they shuttered your stores
When you opened the doors
To the cops who were bored
Once they'd run out of crime

New York, you're perfect
Don't please don't change a thing
Your mild billionaire mayor's
Now convinced he's a king

So the boring collect
I mean all disrespect
In the neighborhood bars
I'd once dreamt I would drink

New York, I Love You
But you're freaking me out
There's a ton of the twist
But we're fresh out of shout

Like a death in the hall
That you hear through your wall
New York, I Love You
But you're freaking me out

New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down

Like a death of the heart
Jesus, where do I start?
But you're still the one pool
Where I'd happily drown
And oh..

Take me off your mailing list
For kids that think it still exists
Yes, for those who think it still exists

Maybe I'm wrong
And maybe you're right
Maybe I'm wrong
And maybe you're right
Maybe you're right
Maybe I'm wrong
And just maybe you're right
And Oh..

Maybe mother told you true
And they're always be something there for you
And you'll never be alone
But maybe she's wrong
And maybe I'm right
And just maybe she's wrong
Maybe she's wrong
And maybe I'm right
And if so, is there?