Everyone has one: a building coveted but never entered. This is mine. And now it looks like I'll never live in it or even walk through the front door.
When I am in the city, I walk by this building several times a day. We knew it had been carved up into apartments and that the current owner was a young guy who had inherited the place from his father. (That was the gossip on the street anyway.) Before reading the NY Times article, I did not know that the name of the kid's company is "Fun Times". It seemed he was going through the contentious process of flushing the building of long-term low-rent tenants. Late at night, I used to peer through the ornate wrought iron gates laid over glass doors into the fantastic parlor with its whorled staircase. We were enraged when one of those gates was removed and replaced with something simple and ugly, consoling ourselves with the hope that the original was off being restored and would soon reappear. From across the street, I'd envision a rooftop garden/painting studio with Central Park views. On other days, I would locate my monastery there.
If it is going to cost $50,000 a week to stay in 15 W68th St, the most I can hope for will be the dubious privilege of part-time concierge.