It’s been a long time since I’ve met a Pittsburgh. The city swiftly took hold of my heart from the minute I saw its skyline from across the Allegheny and only exaggerated the more time I spent haunting its streets. It felt like coming home, in a way.
This city has been on my radar for a long time. Like, since I was a teenager. So it was sort of surreal to finally come here, to a place I’d oddly dreamt of not unlike someone might dream of Portugal or Kyoto. I was captivated by the old-school American urbanism, was acutely aware of the “Portland of the East” allegations, and knew many of its landmarks from the age of 16. Kind of strange for an Albertan.
What I realized after I came home from Pittsburgh was that I became enthralled because the city reminds me of the two urbanist loves of my formative years — Portland and Toronto. Pittsburgh felt like how I used to feel about Portland, pre-Portlandia, before it became a caricature of itself. There was a free-spiritedness, a quirkiness, and a sense that things were almost limitless. Some areas, like Mexican War Streets and Lawrenceville, bled artsiness in a vibe that made me feel like I was in the Portland I met in the 2000s, but more, oddly enough. The neon Heinz sign coming in on the 579 could be the Portland moose sign of an alternate dimension. The built vernacular of Pittsburgh also felt vaguely Torontonian (but tighter in a Philadelphian sense), which makes sense as they’re both of a similar vintage, caught between the tight Eastern Old Guard and the infinity of the Midwest. Some of Pittsburgh’s shabbier old neighbourhoods looked ripped from East York. The Strip District was like a blend of the Kensington Market and Eastern Market. But there’s more opulence generally in the older stuff here, which makes sense considering how much wealthier the States was compared to Canada before WWII and how much of that wealth was actually invested in cities. Pittsburgh looks like if you didn’t put Toronto on amphetamines post-war, but instead transported it into the middle of Appalachia and left it to be.
Pittsburgh, particularly compared to Cleveland and Detroit, where I’d just come from, felt like a truly complete city. It wasn’t gappy and on the come-up, like Detroit, because it already came up. The public transit could be more comprehensive (though it’s not terrible), but otherwise, I wouldn’t touch this city. It’s got everything you could ever want and more. High-quality museums, architecture, food, vibrancy, friendliness, culture, greenery. Speaking of the greenery, as the Appalachian Metropolis, Pittsburgh slapped itself onto endless coal-laden hills early on, provoking a very haphazard urbanism that evoked Butte, Montana for me. And those hills are so lush and radiant that there’s something almost erotic about it. Hot, sticky, and alive.
I loved the oddities of this city so much. Renditions of Hamlet outside a steel furnace blast, Randy (of Randyland fame), the old couple in Bloomfield with a pet tortoise, the scathing graffiti, and all the yellow. That’s right — in a world where municipalities choose red and blue ad nauseam for their branding, the ketchup city has the bravery to pick mustard for everything.
So, come with me and stream some Mitski. Pretend you’re wandering the aisles of Trader Joe’s in East Liberty and the world still feels infinite. This is the Best of the American Girls and I’m so glad it exists.
I love Pittsburgh! Gorgeous city, great people. I seriously considered moving there at one point, but it didn't quite work out.
I absolutely adore Pittsburgh, truly one of the best cities in the United States - you've done such an excellent job presenting it here as well, glad you had such a good time there.