The New York apartment where Bowie lived in the 90s is on the market and his pianos included in the price
If youre still mourning David Bowie, and want something to remember him by, then theres one unique piece of Bowie memorabilia you might be interested in. The only drawback? It will cost you the thick end of $6.5m.
It should be said, its a fairly splendid setup, located in the famous Essex House apartment block on Central Park South. The living room of apartment 915 has panoramic views of the park, and opens into a stately walnut-panelled office that also faces Central Park the perfect place from which to close the next big deal, write the next bestselling novel or make into a third bedroom, according to the listing.
Suburban malls may be a dying breed, but in cities from New York to Hong Kong, new malls are thriving by seamlessly blending into the urban fabric
We didnt expect to see stores, says Yulia, as her husband browses for shoes in one of the shops lining the Oculus, the new focus of New Yorks World Trade Center.
Visiting from Ukraine and on their way to the 9/11 memorial, they were beckoned by the Oculuss unusual architecture: from the outside, the Santiago Calatrava-designed ribbed structure reminds you of a bird or a dinosaur skeleton; inside, it is teaming with tourists taking pictures with selfie sticks.
But the Oculus, named after the eyelike opening at the apex that lets in light, is more than a piece of striking architecture. It exists as a mall, with more than a hundred stores, and as a hub connecting office buildings in Brookfield Place and One World Trade Center with 11 subway lines and Path trains, serving 50,000 commuters every day. Thats a lot of eyeballs on shopfronts.
The mall company Westfield, of course, hopes that the tourists and transit users will stray to the stores. The New New York Place to Be, reads the malls tagline. Shop. Eat. Drink. Play. All under one magnificent roof.
Oculus was Westfields $1.4bn bet that New York, a city known for its love of the street, could also have a successful mall. And judging from the crowds, it counters the narrative that the mall is dead, like those thousands of empty suburban malls dotting the American landscape, ghostboxes decaying on cracked asphalt parking lots.
While European cities led by Paris and Frankfurt wage campaigns for Londons financial business, some experts predict New York could benefit most of all from the fallout of Brexit on the UK capital
New York and London function as two prongs of one global economy. Banks and other financial companies headquartered in New York usually have their second biggest offices in the British capital, and vice versa.
For years, thats made economic sense. For London-based companies, New York provides an unparalleled density of financial firms, a regulatory framework in which to do business, and access to non-European markets. London provides much of the same for New York-based companies who need access to European markets.
Unfortunately for London, at least Brexit could change all of that: an isolated UK could mean financial firms would have a hard time accessing and doing business with other European markets. And while several EU rivals, from Frankfurt to Paris to Madrid to Amsterdam, are waging campaigns for Londons financial businesses, New York with its already established financial sector and finance-friendly regulatory environment could get the majority of Brexits financial runoff, according to some experts.
And this has New Yorkers bracing for a wave of British capital that could affect not only the financial industry but the entire city, from cultural production to housing.
People financial people, consultants, bankers already started calling looking for apartments two or three months ago, says Gennady Perepada, a real estate consultant who specialises in helping foreign millionaires and billionaires buy apartments in New York. Any problem thats not in New York is good for New York.
London and New Yorks financial industry rivalry goes back decades, and the two cities jockey for the title of biggest financial centre each year. According to Z/Yen, a London-based business think tank, London currently outranks New York by just one point on their scale. The next financial centre, Singapore, is 42 points behind New York.
A timely reissue of the business tycoon/president-elects collected entrepreneurial advice from 1987 is redacted by John Crace
I dont do it for the money. Ive got more money than Ill ever need. Some of it yours. Lets face it, you dont file for bankruptcy six times if youre planning on paying your dues. The key to making the best deal is to let others take the hit. I do it because I can. If you can get away with losing over $1bn on a deal, youd have to be a schmuck not to. Theres no way that Donald J Trump is ever going to let himself be one of those deadbeat Americans with no hope and no prospects. No sir. And thats why were shamelessly republishing this load of tosh from 1987. Heres a diary of a typical Trump week.
Monday 9am. Call my broker, Alan Greenberg, to buy $25m worth of stock in Holiday Inns. I sense its undervalued. As we speak, its value increases to $30m. My cock goes hard and I decide to sell.
Tuesday 3pm. Try to evict Carly Simon and Mia Farrow from their rent-controlled apartments, but both want to play hardball. Their loss. When you do battle with the Trumpster, theres only one winner.
Wednesday 1pm. Lunch with Ivana. Try to grope her pussy. Probably not the best time to tell her about Melania.
Thursday 5pm. Some kid at the door says hes my son. Tell him to come back when hes made his first $10m.
Friday 10am. The banks foreclose on Trump Taj Mahal casino putting thousands of people out of work. But at least I come away with $50m. My cock goes hard again.
My style of dealing is quite straightforward: 1) Get as much as you can for yourself; 2) Theres always somebody stupider than you out there; 3) Any attention is better than none; 4) Promise people the Earth even if you know you can never deliver; 5) Get yourself a top haircut.
The most important influence on me when I was growing up was my father, Fred Trump. He taught me everything I needed to know about making money. If he had a fault, it was that he was not narcissistic enough. Fred never named a tower after himself. He also wasted too much time buying properties for deadbeats. If theres one thing Ive learned from real estate, its that poor people on zero-hours contracts just dont know how to look after themselves.
My first deal in Cincinnati taught me that lesson. Having persuaded the banks to lend me the money, I put the day-to-day management of the rebuild in charge of a man I knew to be a conman. I figured he would con the contractors far more than he would con me, so I would end up ahead on the deal. No flies on the Don! Though I was glad to sell the houses off for a $10m profit before the market crashed.
In 1974, I moved into the New York property market when I bought the Commodore Hotel near Grand Central Station. It was rundown and operating at a loss and everyone thought it was a turkey, but I could immediately see its potential. As usual, I was proved 100% right and made $280m in an afternoon after renaming the hotel Trump Plaza.
I then built Trump Tower after buying a department store whose owner didnt understand its true worth. That project taught me that most politicians are just in the game for themselves. Its a mentality I just cant understand. With Trump Tower, I was determined to build as big as possible and the results speak for themselves. I have my own apartment on the top three floors and employ some limey called Nigel Farage as my lift attendant. It could be worse. I could have had Piers Morgan working for me. Can you believe that man? I met him once for five minutes on a reality game show and he hasnt stopped going on about it ever since. The guy must have nearly as big a personality disorder as me.
After Trump Tower came Trump Castle, Trump Palace, Trump Island, Trump White House and Trump Great Wall of Trump. Basically, it was the same deal every time. I was fabulously brilliant and made a huge amount of money for myself while everybody else lost big time. I was living the American dream. Bankrupt one day, rich the next. But my biggest success is the 120-storey Trump Toilet that can flush every Muslim, Mexican and gay back into the sewers where they belong. It might even come in useful for this book.
The Republican president-elects base, a hitherto unremarkable building in midtown Manhattan, is now subject to tight security and a no-fly zone
Perhaps no other building has shot from irrelevance to epicenter as quickly as Trump Tower in midtown Manhattan.
Following Donald J Trumps shock of a winning campaign, the home of the president-elect has drawn to its doorstep the full presidential protection apparatus, as well as both sides of a deeply divided nation.
Hes a male chauvinist, a fucking rapist! yelled a woman, streaming the experience to the world on her phone. Fuck Trump!
Scuse me! There are kids here, another woman yelled, looking harried as she pushed through the crowd with a stroller, a tiny hand grasping hers.
A circus of protesters, supporters, tourists, gawkers and New Yorkers just trying to get where they were going formed in front of Trumps home by the end of the week. Pedestrian traffic rivaled Times Square, as police arbitrarily cordoned off corners. Press were kept in a pen.
A uniformed cop adjusting barricades remarked: This building was never important until just a couple days ago.
The gray-glassed skyscraper on 56th Street and 5th Avenue was, on Monday, just a tower of steel built atop Gucci and Tiffany & Company stores. By Wednesday, it became the site of protests and pleas, rancor and adulation. The stink of a bitter campaign lingered over the building.
Trump eat shit! yelled one passerby. Another yelled back, What about Bill Clinton? his phone raised above the crowd.
A man with a sign scribbled on a spiral-bound notebook yelled, Antisemitism is not OK! The man, from Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, said he came to protest about the way Jewish journalists were attacked, during the campaign. He asked to be identified by James G, because he feared retaliation. I guess I just feel vulnerable right now, James said. This is the first time Ive ever protested anything.
Others approached him and wondered aloud whether Trump would, quote the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a fraudulent early 20th-century document used to justify antisemitism.
Employees of the private school he attended and residents of the upper-middle-class neighborhood where he grew up express concern about the GOP nominee
In his 1987 book, The Art of the Deal, Donald Trump recalled punching his second-grade music teacher in the face: Because I didnt think he knew anything about music.
The alleged recipient of the punch, who taught Trump at the private Kew-Forest school in Queens, New York, would later insist it never happened.
Even so, it seems Trump is still an unpopular figure among the schools staff.
I dont think any of us that work here are proud that he went here, one employee told the Guardian on Monday morning.
The woman requested anonymity because some of the parents here are gung-ho for Trump. She said she did not plan to vote for Kew-Forests most famous alumnus.
Unequivocally, absolutely not. Because of who he is. His stance on women, on immigrants, on vets, on the disabled, and just Trump as a person, she said.
Trumps father pulled him out of the Kew-Forest school when he was 13 years old after numerous misdemeanors. Trump was sent to the New York military academy, located 70 miles north in Cornwall-on-Hudson, in upstate New York.
For Trump it meant leaving behind both his school and the Trump family home, located in the upper-middle-class neighborhood of Jamaica Estates.
With Bright Lights, Big City, the novelist established himself as the chronicler of New Yorks hedonistic 80s elite. Thirty years and four marriages later, he is still fascinated by wealth and Donald Trump though his friendship with Bret Easton Ellis is flagging …
It is more than 30 years since Bright Lights, Big City, Jay McInerneys first and most famous novel was published, and everything and nothing has changed. The 61-year-old still lives in Manhattan, in apenthouse a few blocks from one of his first addresses in New York. (In the early 1980s, the rent on his Bowery apartment was $375 a month. A night at the Bowery Hotel, where McInerney stayed last week while his air conditioning was being fixed, is $425). He doesnt snort cocaine in club bathrooms any more, but when hes in the city, he still goes out every night. And he retains a charm perennially described as boyish but that strikes me, today, as something more tentative, a state ofmild bafflement that seems poised between hopefulness and the ever-present threat of disappointment.
The most unwavering aspect of McInerneys life, at least as it pertains to his public image as a novelist, is his identification with the upper echelons of New York society, an affiliation that has earned him a reputation over the years as a social butterfly. McInerney is the first to say of his own experience: It became alittle unrepresentative. Successful novelist is not an everyman category, and to add, somewhat ruefully, that unlike the protagonist of his latest novel, Bright, Precious Days, who struggles to raise kids in New York on a publishing salary, when McInerneys own children were born, I was actually pretty flush.
The novelists divorce from Helen Bransford, his third wife and his childrens mother, wiped him out financially, but his fourth wife, Anne Hearst, is an heiress and a certified member of the Upper East Side social crowd, the ins and outs of which continue to preoccupy his work. In light of all this, I had expected to find someone a little mannered, a touch absurd in the Tom Wolfe style. Instead, this morning, McInerney is guileless to a degree that makes me feel vaguely anxious for him.
Bright, Precious Days is the third novel in a series, after Brightness Falls and The Good Life, and chronicles the lives of Russell and Corrine Calloway, who came to New York in the 1980s chasing a literary dream and woke to find themselves, at 50, in a small apartment with two children, one bathroom and no money for summer plans. McInerney calls this the life not lived; had he not become a successful writer, he would in all likelihood have become an editor like Russell Calloway, one of the stretched middle classes in a city increasingly hostile to anyone not on or married to a banking salary. Theyre lucky and privileged in some ways, hesays. But in other ways most 50-year-old parents would like to have some space and multiple bathrooms. These are the kind of sacrifices people make to stay in Manhattan. Is the price of being a New Yorker worth it?
This question and the assumptions underpinning it are, as with the focus of so much of McInerneys work, vulnerable to a charge of so what?. The Calloways, who live above their means and knock around town with hedge fund managers and billionaires, might move out of the city to a perfectly good life elsewhere. That they cant bring themselves to go not even to the suburbs, but merely uptown to Harlem is not a drama with wide-ranging appeal. Meanwhile, their creators view from the penthouse can come across, in these times, as a little unseemly. Beyond the exigencies of the story, the rich matter, says McInerney, because, I think as a writer its certainly interesting to observe them. And I think not enough people do. These people have a huge influence on the way that we all live. And I do think these [hedge fund] guys are usually either figures of satire or weird wish fulfilment girly romance-novel fantasy. But more often theyre objects of derision.
There is an assumption of philistinism, I say.
Exactly. And sometimes its justified. I had dinner with a friend of mine last night whos a Wall Street guy, and hes on the board of the Whitney Museum, hes the major patron of the Roundabout Theatre. Hes involved in so many cultural and charitable activities I admire that. I know him because hes a wine collector. I make fun of wine collectors; some of them are philistines. But I dont know. I try to keep an open mind.
McInerney is, famously, a wine collector himself and his enthusiasm for his billionaire chums on the scene is so artless, it feels a little grudging to hold it against him. Nonetheless, a few months ago, his old friend Bret Easton Ellis took McInerney to task, telling the Sunday Times that their friendship had cooled because Easton Ellis wasnt rich enough for McInerney.
Restaurant in shadow of Billionaires Row was setting for a Woody Allen masterpiece but legal beefs and business pressures grew too much for owner
Theyre calling it pastrami on cry: after nearly eight decades of serving 4in-high sandwiches to hungry New Yorkers and tourists, the Carnegie Deli has announced that it will close its doors at the end of 2016.
The Jewish delicatessen, open since 1937 and known for its gruff wait staff and massive sandwiches its motto: If you can finish your meal, weve done something wrong announced its impending closure in a Facebook post on Friday.
Speaking to staff in an emotional address, owner Marian Harper Levine said the stresses of running a restaurant in New York City had grown too much to bear.
The restaurant business is one of the hardest jobs in New York City, she said. At this stage in my life, the early morning to late-night days have taken a toll, along with my sleepless nights and gruelling hours.
On Seventh Avenue at West 55th, in midtown Manhattan and in the shadow of rising towers on Billionaires Row, the Carnegie is one of few businesses surviving from an era before rampant corporate investment and rising commercial rents. Recently, though, times have been hard.
In 2014, the delis owners were ordered to pay a $2.65m settlement to 25 employees who alleged they had been cheated out of fair wages. Harper then went through a contentious divorce, in which she claimed her husband, Sandy Levine, had shared secret recipes with his girlfriend, whose family allegedly launched a rogue Carnegie Deli in Thailand.
From April 2015, the deli was closed for more than nine months after the utility firm Con Edison discovered an illegal gas line hookup that had been working for six years, similar to a hookup that caused an explosion in the East Village, killing two people and destroying Pommes Frites, another famous restaurant. A fine and a backdated utilities bill of more than $40,000 followed.
(CNN)New Yorkers who live near the site of a powerful explosion in Manhattan waited to get back in their homes Sunday and exchanged stories about the frightening moments after the blast.
As they waited for further word on the cause, people who felt and heard the detonation said they had been shaken but would carry on with their lives.
“I feel a little bit insecure, but we have to do what we have to do,” said Omar Len, a real estate investor who was visiting a friend on Saturday night in the building directly next to the blast site.
“There’s nothing you can do, really,” Len said. “You have to read their mind in order to prevent this. Anybody can be around us that has that mentality. Our lives continue.”
The explosion, which injured 29 people, rocked the Chelsea neighborhood at 8:30 p.m. By morning, authorities had reopened most streets nearby, but they still blocked off West 23rd Street, where the blast happened. Some subway entrances remained closed.
Gov. Andrew Cuomo told reporters on Sunday that “a bomb exploding in New York is obviously an act of terrorism,” but that there was no evidence tying the blast to known terror organizations.
“My friend thought it was thunder. I said, that doesn’t sound like thunder,” said Crissy Holland, who lives a block uptown from the explosion. “It sounded like someone took a barge and threw it all the way off a building.”
Wendy Baboolal said she had just arrived in New York from Trinidad and was taking a nap in her hotel room half a block west when the detonation shook her awake.
“I was asleep and it rocked me. I felt it in my chest,” she said. “When I looked out the window, I saw people just running.”
When Baboolal walked outside, “I saw a lot of people, a lot of cops, the fire people, a lot of ambulances were here,” she said. “It was frenzied, people wondering what happened.”
A tense calm was restored within minutes as police began closing off nearby blocks and moving onlookers away. People leaving restaurants and a play in the neighborhood stood around checking their phones for news.
Baboolal said she visits New York frequently and sometimes stays with an aunt upstate. But “I love the city, so I wanted to be in the city itself,” she said. “I wasn’t scared. I love New York so much, so what’s the problem?”
Just two weeks before the first presidential debate and 58 days before election day on 8 November, the Democratic and Republican nominees were present to pay silent tribute to the almost 3,000 people who died in the attacks 15 years ago.
Politicians are invited to attend ceremonies every year at the site where the World Trade Center was destroyed by two hijacked jets, but not to speak. The event centers on those who lost loved ones. Some of the families gathered to commemorate their relatives, however, cheered and clapped as Trump arrived.
Trump, who was born in Queens, grinned as people waved, and posed so they could take photographs. Clinton, who in 2001 was the junior US senator from New York, arrived quietly, greeting some families on her way into the site, and did not prompt applause like her rival. Both candidates issued short statements about the need to mark the day solemnly.
In Washington, Barack Obama observed a moment of silence in the White House and spoke at a commemoration of those who died in the attack on the Pentagon.
People also gathered at the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, where one of the planes hijacked by terrorists crashed into a field.
In lower Manhattan, family members of those who died, New York firefighters who lost 343 of their colleagues, police officers and survivors gathered under overcast skies. It was humid and haze obscured the top of One World Trade, the skyscraper that now dominates the New York skyline, in contrast to the clear blue skies that dawned on the day 15 years ago that changed the course of history.
In total, 2,977 people were killed. In Manhattan on Sunday, wives who lost husbands, children who lost fathers and mothers and other family members and friends laid flowers on the names of the dead that are engraved into the stone surrounds of two huge reflecting pools with waterfalls, constructed on the exact sites where the twin towers stood. The stage for the event sat between the two pools.
A youth choir from Brooklyn sang the Star-Spangled Banner, to warm applause. A group of first responders in dress uniform held up the torn flag that was raised over the wreckage at Ground Zero in the aftermath of the attack, before marching away to the sound of a piped band.
Then the site went still, for a moment of silence at 8.46am, the time the first jet hit, near the top of the north tower.
Monica Iken Murphy, 46, from New York, attended with her daughters Madison, 10, and Megan, eight. On 11 September 2001 her husband, Michael Iken, a bond trader, was working on the 84th floor of the south tower.
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