Some of the people who ask for advice do not intend to take it - they may even be intending to react against it.
Or they may be seeking to avoid responsibility by saying (to themselves, if not to others) that they are only doing what they have been told -- although this doesn't make sense; since the advice was sought, and the decision to follow it was made.
Some people (especially immature ones) are keen to give advice - and some of these actually expect others to follow it!
So there is potential for some pretty pathological interactions here.
It can be flattering to the inexperienced to be approached for advice; and this approach "for advice" may therefore be a method of manipulation.
The whole business of advice assumes a generalizability from the individual to the group - the assumption that what is the case for me-her-now, is (or ought to be) the case for somebody/everybody else, in other circumstances.
It was only in my middle twenties that I (finally!) began to realize that I was apparently highly atypical - such that most other people saw the world very differently, and wanted very different things. Until then I had assumed that such differences were due to other people not knowing about stuff - and if they knew what I did then they would think like I did.
But eventually the reality dawned that this was not the case. I was, indeed, an extremely unusual person; and therefore what worked for me, would not necessarily work for others - because others wanted something very different, and were gratified by (and found aversive) very different places and people and situations.
I can only talk about the past, because things will surely change in the future; but I have realized that the place for me has been Newcastle upon Tyne. I assume that this is somewhat due to family history, personal history and stuff like that - and therefore I have not assumed that what suited me and what I was up to, would suit other people.
I would not be likely to advise people to live here; just because it suits me. (And not just me; also my family - which is, of course, decisive.)
After all, I dis-like a great deal about this place and its people, and indeed I don't like very much of Newcastle. Probably most of the city and people I find aversive, and avoid.
Other aspects I love in a way that goes very deep and has provided an unique sustenance. Nonetheless, I'm always a bit surprised when other people want to live here; and by the gravitational pull that some other people feel towards it.
I think one great advantage of Newcastle is that it has been more real and coherent than most places. I felt this in contrast to the city of my schooldays - Bristol*.
That reality may be unpleasant or simply alien to some people, and it is always dissolving in response to the depredations of totalitarian materialism. And there may come a time when I feel a need to move elsewhere.
But, for me, it is important that the place I live has an objective kind of solidity, to which I personally am connected. No matter how pleasant some other places may be for most people with their different natures and goals; if that place feels not-real to me, or I am not inwardly-connected; then life feels arbitrary - and that is (for me) so bad - that it seems to spoil everything else.
Or, to put matters positively; I have been very fortunate to find and (mostly) live somewhere about which I feel "romantic" and in which participation has been attainable for much of the time.
But still, I would not be likely to advise anybody else to live here.
*I spent my school years in Somerset near Bristol, and am still very fond of visiting that area (although I have gone-off Bristol itself since the millennium); but I did not find it difficult to leave the area. This may be attributable to having been born in Devon, and experiencing an alienating dislocation when we moved (from several understandable causes in combination - plus the facts of loss and strangeness). For several years afterwards, Devon felt magical, safe and natural; while Somerset was comparatively seedy, dull (because of long days at school, mostly) - and somewhat threatening. But I have very seldom been to Devon in the past 50 years, and not at all for more than thirty.