New York was once a city of fancy façades. Terra-cotta tiles, brownstone fronds, limestone gargoyles, cast-iron pilasters. Then came postwar modernism, which preached the sanctity of simplicity, a sermon from which we are still recovering. Richard Meier’s recent glass palazzi in the West Village and near Prospect Park are practically godly in their purity. The chic-est cladding a building can wear is as transparent as the emperor’s outfit. Enter 40 Bond. NYMag | previously 1 | 2 | 3
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