Walk down any street in a gentrifying ZIP code and you'll see it. The same glass-fronted coffee shops. The same "industrial chic" Edison bulbs. It’s predictable. Boring, really. But then, tucked between a high-rise and a vacant lot, there it is—the dive bar that refused to die, or maybe the hardware store where the floorboards still groan under your boots. People call these spots the last good thing about this part of town because they represent something that can’t be bought or franchised: genuine, unpolished history.
It’s about soul.
Honestly, the "last good thing" isn't usually a monument. It’s rarely a park designed by a famous architect. Instead, it’s usually a place that smells slightly of old wood and maybe a hint of floor wax. These anchors hold a neighborhood together when everything else is being sold to the highest bidder. When the rent triples and the local grocery store becomes a "boutique experience," these holdouts become the only places where you can actually breathe without feeling like you’re being marketed to.
Why Authenticity is Disappearing from Our Streets
Development isn't inherently evil, but it’s often incredibly loud. In cities like Austin, Nashville, or Denver, the rapid influx of capital has created a phenomenon urbanists call "retail leveling." It’s when every street starts looking like a lifestyle center in a suburban mall. You’ve seen it. The gray brick. The "Live, Work, Play" banners. This homogenization makes the last good thing about this part of town stand out like a neon sign in a blackout.
Why does it happen? Real estate investment trusts (REITs) love predictability. They want tenants with massive credit lines—national chains, mostly. Small business owners, the ones who actually live in the community, can’t compete with that kind of "institutional" money. This isn't just a local gripe; it’s a documented economic shift. According to the Institute for Local Self-Reliance, small businesses often generate more local economic activity than big-box retailers, yet they are the first ones pushed out when property taxes spike.
It sucks. It really does.
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When a neighborhood loses its "third place"—that spot that isn't home and isn't work—it loses its personality. Ray Oldenburg, the sociologist who coined the term, argued that these places are the heart of a healthy society. If the last good thing about this part of town is a 40-year-old diner where the waitress knows your name, its value isn't just the cheap coffee. It’s the social cohesion. It’s the fact that you aren't a "user" or a "customer segments data point." You’re just a neighbor.
The Survival of the Grit
There is a specific kind of stubbornness required to remain the last good thing about this part of town. Usually, it means the owner actually owns the building. That’s the secret sauce. If you own the brick and mortar, you can ignore the trends. You don't have to pivot to avocado toast because some consultant told you it would increase margins by 4%. You can keep serving the same grilled cheese you’ve served since 1994.
I remember talking to a shop owner in a rapidly changing part of Brooklyn. He’d been there for three decades. He told me, point-blank, that he gets three or four calls a week from developers wanting to buy him out. He stays because he likes the work. That’s it. No grand mission statement. Just a guy who likes his shop. That lack of pretension is exactly why his place is the last good thing about this part of town.
What We Get Wrong About Neighborhood "Improvement"
Most people think a "good" neighborhood is one with low crime and high property values. Sure, that’s part of it. But if you strip away the weirdness, you’re left with a sterile environment. A "good" part of town should have friction. It should have a bit of mess.
The Economic Reality of Keeping it Real
Let’s look at the numbers for a second. In many major metros, commercial rents have climbed 50% or more over the last decade. Meanwhile, small business margins haven't budged much. This creates a "monoculture" where only high-margin businesses can survive.
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- High-end cocktail bars? Yes.
- Luxury gyms? Absolutely.
- The small shoe repair shop? Not a chance.
This is why finding the last good thing about this part of town feels like discovering treasure. It’s a miracle of economics and sheer willpower.
How to Actually Support the "Last Good Thing"
It’s easy to complain about gentrification while holding a $7 latte from a chain. We’ve all done it. But if you actually want to preserve the last good thing about this part of town, you have to be intentional. It’s not about "saving" a business out of pity; it’s about recognizing that these places offer a better experience anyway.
Go there on a Tuesday. Not just when it’s trending on social media.
Tell your friends. Word of mouth is the only marketing budget these places usually have. If the last good thing about this part of town is a local bookstore, buy your books there instead of clicking the "Buy Now" button on your phone. It might cost $3 more. It might take three days longer. But you’re paying for the existence of that space. You’re paying for the fact that you can walk in and talk to a human who has actually read the book you’re holding.
Dealing with the "Cool" Factor
There is a danger, though. Sometimes, when people find the last good thing about this part of town, they "discover" it to death. They post it on TikTok, the lines get three hours long, and the original regulars can’t get in anymore. It’s a delicate balance. You want the business to thrive, but you don’t want it to lose the very thing that made it special.
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Basically, don't be a tourist in your own city. Respect the vibe. If it’s a quiet bar, don't bring a group of twelve people for a loud birthday party. If it’s a small shop, don't treat it like a showroom for an online purchase.
The Future of the "Last Good Thing"
Is it all doom and gloom? Kinda, but not entirely. There’s a growing movement of "hyper-localism" where people are actively seeking out the unpolished. We’re getting tired of the algorithm. We’re tired of being suggested the same things based on our browsing history. The last good thing about this part of town is the antidote to the algorithm. It’s unpredictable.
Cities are starting to catch on, too. Some municipalities are experimenting with "legacy business" programs. San Francisco, for example, has a registry that provides grants and lease assistance to businesses that have been around for 30 years or more. It’s a way of saying that culture is just as important as tax revenue. It’s a start.
But honestly, the real protection comes from us.
If you find that one spot—the one that still feels like the neighborhood you fell in love with—hold onto it. The last good thing about this part of town isn't just a place. It’s a reminder that not everything is for sale. It’s a reminder that community is built over decades, not over a weekend of renovations.
Actionable Steps to Preserve Local Gems
If you’ve identified the last good thing about this part of town, here is how you keep it from disappearing:
- Commit to the "Local 20" Rule. Try to spend 20% of your discretionary income at businesses that are independently owned and located within five miles of your home. It’s a small shift that makes a massive difference in their cash flow.
- Engage with Local Zoning Meetings. This sounds boring. It is boring. But this is where the decisions about what gets built—and what gets torn down—actually happen. Show up and advocate for mixed-use spaces that allow for small, affordable commercial units.
- Skip the Review, Start a Conversation. Instead of just leaving a five-star review (which helps, don't get me wrong), actually talk to the owner. Ask them how long they’ve been there. Ask them what they need. Sometimes, the "last good thing" stays around because they know people actually give a damn.
- Use Cash When Possible. Credit card processing fees eat 2% to 4% of a small business’s revenue. For a place with thin margins, that’s the difference between a profit and a loss at the end of the month. Paying in cash is a direct way to give them a 3% raise.
The last good thing about this part of town only stays that way if we show up. Don't wait until there’s a "Closing Soon" sign in the window to realize what you had. Go there today. Order the regular. Sit in the creaky chair. Enjoy it while it's still here.
Key Takeaways for Neighborhood Exploration
- Look for ownership: The most resilient "good things" usually own their property.
- Value friction: Don't avoid places just because they don't have a sleek website or a perfect Instagram feed.
- Be a regular: Consistent support is better than a one-time viral post.
- Check the history: Research the "legacy business" status of your city to find long-standing institutions you might have missed.