When Cassettes Ruled The World

I think there’s a point in this paragraph somewhere, though it jumps around quite a bit:

Perhaps even more relevant, Staten Island is not an incubator of preciousness; it seems allergic to preciousness. Before there were artisanal-cheese mongers in Williamsburg there were painters, performance artists, tattoos, eccentrics, an alternative-culture elite. Staten Island has a lower share of residents with bachelor’s degrees than any borough except the Bronx.

Then there is the catnip of old cassette players:

At the same time, though, the island’s North Shore does not conform to the borough’s clichés. (And in truth the borough on the whole has become less like its image: In 2010, 52 percent of Staten Island residents under the age of 18 were non-Hispanic whites, a drop from 73 percent 20 years earlier.) The area surrounding the Homeport site is less suburban, far less well off, less white and grungier than much of Staten Island. You will see graffiti, junkyards, abandoned cassette players and a methadone clinic a few doors down from a sleekly laid-out clothing store — elements that are catnip to a certain kind of 26-year-old.