The British diplomat and novelist, Harold Nicholson, tossed off an essay in 1929 containing a short riff on the three great capitals of Europe. “London is an old lady in black lace and diamonds who guards her secrets with dignity,” while “Paris is the woman in the prime of life to whom one would only tell those secrets that one desires to be repeated.” 

London, an old lady, the City of Lights, a woman, “But Berlin is a girl in a pullover without much powder on her face,” and not much concerned with secrets. “One walks with her among the lights and in the shadows. And after an hour or so one is hand-in-hand.”