Times change? That’s the ultimate understatement. Time itself seems to have changed, speeding up so that the major shifts that once struck us in moments of epiphany every year or so are now daily fare. We watch evolution happen around us. New doesn’t shock us anymore; it’s our entertainment. “What’s new?” is our mantra. Novelty is our daily quest. We’ve all become “content providers.” Change is the only thing that doesn’t change. Clothes are out of fashion by the time they go on sale. Pop star careers last weeks, not years. People spend their fortunes trying to look young—that is, trying to look new. But all of that is show business. Deep down we’re all the same humans that we were last week, last year, last century, last millennium.
That’s of real value. We endure. And while the fashion show and the celebrity news does amuse us, we know what’s important. Truth. Beauty. All that glitters is not gold, but some of it is. So let’s skip the glitter and go for the gold: the gold standard of luxury and achievement. Things that were beautiful yesterday are today and will be tomorrow. Puck knew all about vanity and superficiality: “What fools these mortals be.” And so he resides over a building that is every bit as beautiful today as it was when it was built, back in “the Gilded Age.” Puck was in it for the real gold, not the fool’s gold. The Gilded Age of Puck’s arrival here was an era of unprecedented wealth and luxury. Sometimes it produced follies and excess, but often it produced classics, true greatness. As we live through this time of semi-unprecedented wealth and luxury we notice that some things have held up remarkably well. Like this building where Puck, the chronicler of folly, still holds court. And hopefully ourselves. Here is a building that is old but brand new. A survivor and a witness. A beauty and a wit. Here’s a building where history was made and made again. Here’s a building that lived to tell a tale, a tale of robber barons and bohemians, splendor and good measure, wits and their targets. A tale of folly and wisdom, change and permanence, glitter and gold. Come on up to the penthouses. The views are amazing. You can see for miles. And centuries.
Soho is that happiest of accidents, a treasure of a landmark neighborhood that survived destruction and redevelopment by a happy accident of benign neglect. This is where artists created the style of loft living. It is where contemporary art grew up and still maintains a powerful presence. It’s a place where you can blur your vision and step back into the New York of Poe and Whitman, then refocus to ﬁnd yourself in Manhattan’s most chic shopping district, where artists and artisan ateliers abound. It’s a pedestrian’s paradise, studded with quintessential Soho restaurants, where you’ll ﬁnd delightful surprises at every turn.