Here's the thing about "individuality." Somewhere out there, people are also into the very same things you are. It happened 30 years ago in downtown New York, it happened when Basquiat was throwing SAMO tags up in SoHo and Glenn O'Brien was having Klaus Nomi perform on his public access TV show. Decades before that, jazz cats were rubbing shoulders with each other. Real has always recognized real, and they've tended to congregate in similar areas. Stylish enclaves like Williamsburg, Silver Lake, and Wicker Park are no different. However, once you trek outside those familiar spaces, skinny jeans and spectator shoes become more of an aberration than a sign of normalcy—and you start to realize that so-called "regular" people don't take to designer pieces and clothes that actually fit in the same way that you do. You'll also find it infinitely harder to find a slice of gluten-free pizza with soy cheese.