I went to college in Westchester and would often take a bus through the "city" of White Plains in order to reach the Manhattan-bound commuter rail. Discounting "White Plains" and "Westchester," most locations in Southern New York have Native American-inspired names. The bus I took would cross Mamaroneck Avenue, a main street which shares its name with a village purchased by the English from Chief Wappaquewam and his brother Manhatahan prior to the Revolutionary War. On one of the corners of Mamorneck Avenue there was a store of ugly, mostly-brown men's clothing that I would always laugh at because - its sign in a very 80s art deco style - the store was named Gatsby Gatsby.
The town I grew up in, Roslyn, originally named Cow Neck and given a Scottish name in the 19th Century, is marketed to be nestled along the Gold Coast of the Long Island Sound. It's home to a large estate of the Frick family, who were major benefactors for the Museum of Natural History and whose home now exists as a museum itself. It was the kind of place F Scott Fitzgerald was referring to and, because of its proximity to my childhood home, I spent many afternoons there - drawing, taking pictures, or just eating fried chicken with the boys. And so, when I showed Mia my new shoes [10€ during January sale season] over Skype, and she responded, "Oh, very Gatsby of you," I agreed whole-heartedly.