I didn’t come to St. Louis planning to stay long. I moved here from Phoenix knowing literally no one, had a good time, and then moved on after just over a year thanks to a promotion at work that got me exactly where I wanted to be—or so I thought. But somehow, this city had gotten its claws into me.
And so three years after taking my dream job in Los Angeles, I moved back to St. Louis. That was almost 10 years ago, and today I’m not just married to a St. Louis native, but raising two more, little girls whose world revolves around their beloved school and neighborhood haunts. I’ve also made great friends and found the places that sustain me. When I say “home” these days, I mean right here.
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In my decade here, I’ve gotten to see St. Louis in a way that would have initially surprised me. It’s a complicated place that doesn’t always lend itself to easy analysis. So whether you’re a native who’s never lived elsewhere or a newcomer trying to get your head around the place like I was a decade ago, I hope these observations will inspire you to see the city in a different way—and love it as much as I do.
10. The brick will impress you, but the interiors will blow you away. When I first moved here I spent hours roaming the streets of the Central West End and marveling at the historic houses. Now that I’ve been inside century homes from Lafayette Square to University City, I’m here to say: They’re even better than you’d imagine. No one did Gilded Age mansions better than St. Louis—and the care that recent occupants have put into maintaining (and restoring) them is a testament to the city’s appreciation for its storied, and complicated, past.
9. When it’s nice outside, get out. Nothing is more glorious than St. Louis on a crisp autumn day, when the trees are in riotous color and the sky is radiant. Except, maybe, St. Louis in May, when everything is ridiculously green and the flowers are in bloom. We have bad weather here, for sure—muggy summer nights that make you wonder how our forebears ever survived without air conditioning, and a little too much snow to pretend each year that we’re utterly helpless in dealing with it. But when things are good, they’re really good, and big swaths of spring, fall, and early summer simply can’t be beat.
8. We should all spend more time on Art Hill. It’s impossible to be crabby when looking across the rippling green to that shimmering lake. For that matter, I think we’d all be happier visiting Forest Park’s myriad offerings just a bit more frequently.
7. Ease is one of the best things about St. Louis, but it can also be a trap. There’s a reason we don’t visit Forest Park more, and that has to do with the St. Louis insistence that parking must be easy and any traffic is too much. This is a place where everything is 20 minutes away, and yet city people write off the county as too long a trek and county people … well, see No. 4 for that. Even though I successfully navigated the vehicular nightmare that was Los Angeles, I now have to talk myself into walking a block or two from my car to a restaurant or paying $2 an hour for parking. Ridiculous! The mindset here can be contagious, and it holds us back from experiencing all the great things that are (gasp!) 21 minutes away.
6. Name your scene—food, theater, art, bars, music. They all punch way above their weight. Speaking of great things: The cultural opportunities in St. Louis are shocking in their bounty. Genuinely good theater is on stage just about every night of the week. The awesome restaurants will ruin any other Midwestern city for you (barring Chicago). And if live music is your thing, you’re going to be happy as a clam in St. Louis. This is a city that knows how to party and knows what to listen to, and frequently combines the two things in wonderful ways. Not to mention that the booze here is as affordable, and generously poured, as anywhere in the U.S.
5. Gravois is the worst. Let’s be real: St. Louisans are not good drivers, and when you add a diagonal into the grid, things just fall apart. I’ve been passed on the left on Gravois by people zipping across the yellow center lane. I’ve dodged packs of ATVs zig-zagging through the street. I’ve despaired at figuring out what the heck I’m supposed to do at the triangle where Morganford meets Delor. And I’m here to tell you, after 10 years, Gravois doesn’t get any better. Avoid at all costs.
4. The fear, and even hostility, that some locals towards life in the city is deeply troubling. My husband and I bought a beautiful home in a neighborhood that we feel lucky to live in. But because it’s east of Grand (or even just within the city limits?), I’ve had perplexing conversations where my interlocutors seem to assume I’m living in a war zone. It’s not just my neighborhood: Acquaintances in the suburbs have expressed shock that I sent my kids to a daycare downtown and that I was comfortable living in Lafayette Square. In light of the safe, happy environment I experience every day, I can’t understand where they’re getting this misinformation—but some people seem determined to wallow in negativity. When a friend from Ohio told me how pleasantly surprised he was by a recent stay in St. Louis after reading about downtown’s so-called Doom Loop, I posted a video of his remarks on X, only to encounter St. Louisans insisting in the replies that I must have bribed him, that he had no idea what he was talking about, that his positive experience couldn’t have been real. Why do we do this to ourselves?
3. St. Louis pitches in. The more time I spend here, the more I understand that St. Louis has a nonprofit organization for everything, most of them bootstrapped by volunteers. Indeed, the biggest obstacle to getting things done around here isn’t that no one wants to help. It’s that so many people help, and someone needs to convene (and then break down) the structures they’ve created in the interest of helping. That can be frustrating, but it’s also admirable. Beyond that, out-of-towners are often stunned by our free cultural institutions. “Who pays for that?” they ask. We do. And we’re proud of that.
2. St. Louis is obsessed with St. Louis. We have our own foodstuffs, our own insult (“hoosier,” anyone?), and even our own attire (I like to joke you can always tell when a flight from St. Louis has landed because of the sea of Cardinal red streaming from the gate, but it’s true!). The St. Louis identity is a point of pride for a reason: This is a unique place with incredible history and a long identity as an underdog. We have to be proud of St. Louis because no one else will. And for the record: More people have apologized to me for the high school question than actually asked it. We all know it’s a St. Louis thing, to the point that it’s become more a local joke than an actual question. We love our in jokes here, and I’d also posit that you hear more people making fun of the St. Louis accent (farty-far!) than actually using it these days.
1. St. Louis wants to help you network. If St. Louisans do happen to ask where you went to high school, it’s only because they are trying to figure out the acquaintances you have in common. This being the biggest small town in the world, you’ll definitely have some. St. Louisans ask this because they want to connect. They want to suggest where you should dine out, what you should see, who you should know. It’s part boosterism, sure, but it’s also a generosity of spirit. They want you to be happy here.
When I publicly lost my job and my tear-stained face was not just on social media but also in the newspaper, I heard from numerous acquaintances with suggestions, job leads, sympathy. Even in the grocery store, people stopped me to say how sorry they were and earnestly asked if they could do anything to help. Others dropped off coffee cake and flowers. Those were kindnesses I will never forget.
It floors me to think that I knew no one here before making a cross-country move, because I now feel like I know everyone. That’s not just because I’m a journalist and it’s my job to talk to people. It’s also because St. Louis insists on making sure you are not alone, that you are part of this community, and maybe even that you join a nonprofit or three. St. Louis is proud enough to know it can be great, and humble enough to know it needs you—needs every last one of us—to get there.
Once you’re in, St. Louis isn’t going to let you go.
