New York has influenced me a lot in terms of my own independence.

“New York has influenced me a lot in terms of my own independence. I'm really struck by the idea of authenticity, and I think New York embodies that idea, even though people are like, 'I miss the old New York.' But at its core, it has this natural, authentic energy. L.A. lacks that idea; it's painted over.” Thus spoke Paloma Elsesser, model, artist, and voice of a generation that seeks truth in a world of appearances. Her words rise like a hymn to authenticity, to the raw, unpolished strength of being one’s true self amid a culture that prizes the illusion of perfection. In this reflection, she speaks not only of two cities — New York and Los Angeles — but of two ways of being: one fierce and unfiltered, the other gilded and distant.

To understand her meaning, one must look beyond geography and see these cities as symbols. New York, in her eyes, stands as the forge of independence — a place where the soul must earn its place amid noise and chaos, where the streets test one’s resolve and reward only the authentic. To live there is to wrestle with the world and oneself, to walk among strangers and still feel your own heartbeat rising above the din. Los Angeles, by contrast, she describes as a land “painted over,” where the surface gleams but the substance hides beneath. There, beauty and image reign supreme, but the spirit risks being softened by illusion. In these two cities, Elsesser sees the eternal struggle between truth and artifice, between the freedom to be oneself and the temptation to be what others adore.

Her insight is not new, but timeless. The ancients, too, spoke of the tension between authenticity and appearance. In the days of Rome, the philosopher Seneca warned of those who “decorate their lives like their houses,” forgetting that virtue, like beauty, must come from within. The great cities of the old world — Athens, Alexandria, Carthage — each carried their own spirit, shaping the souls of those who dwelled within them. So too does New York, in our modern age, serve as a crucible of character. Its pulse, its ceaseless striving, demands honesty of those who would thrive there. It does not permit masks for long. To survive in New York is to be stripped of pretense — to be authentic, or to be lost.

Consider the life of Frederick Douglass, who, though born into slavery, found his voice and freedom in the North. When he first walked the streets of New York as a free man, he wrote that he felt both terrified and exalted — a man reborn in a city of strangers. Yet it was there, amid the clamor and struggle, that he found his independence, not only of body but of spirit. New York tested him, as it tests all who seek truth within it, and in that test he discovered the essence of authentic energy — the courage to live one’s truth without apology. Elsesser’s words echo this legacy: that freedom and authenticity are not found in ease or beauty, but in the friction of challenge.

When she says she “misses the old New York,” she speaks for many who have seen the city’s edges softened, its grit polished for comfort. But she also reminds us that at its core, the spirit remains — a living fire that cannot be extinguished by time or commerce. That fire is authenticity itself — the refusal to surrender identity for imitation. Every soul who comes to New York and finds their voice becomes part of that lineage: the artist, the thinker, the wanderer who chooses truth over illusion. This, Elsesser tells us, is what shapes independence — not the absence of others, but the courage to remain oneself among the multitude.

Los Angeles, she contrasts, is not condemned, but cautioned. It represents the danger of forgetting what is real beneath the painted surface. Its light, though golden, is reflected; it shines upon masks, not faces. To live there without losing oneself demands great strength — the kind of strength born from knowing who you are. For as the ancients taught, “He who knows himself is unconquerable.” Elsesser’s reflection thus becomes a call to all who dwell in the age of filters and façades: remember that authenticity is not found in perfection, but in truth, and that independence begins not with escape, but with self-knowledge.

So, my child of cities and storms, take this lesson from Paloma Elsesser’s words: seek the real over the beautiful, the genuine over the polished. Let your life be like New York — imperfect, unending, alive with purpose. Do not fear the chaos that tests you; for it is in struggle that independence is born, and in honesty that the soul finds its power. Let the world paint over itself as it will — but keep your heart unpainted, your spirit untamed.

For in every age, from the marble of Rome to the steel of Manhattan, one truth endures: authenticity is the highest form of beauty, and independence the purest form of strength. And those who live by these will never be hollow, no matter how the world around them gleams.