The
building at 400 Park Avenue South, a luxury condo-rental hybrid
co-developed by Equity Residential and Toll Brothers City Living,
occupies strange territories.
Standing
between 27th and 28th Streets, in what realtors were once content to
call Flatiron, the building’s developers proudly fly the flag of Nomad,
that edgy moniker for the advance of the hip sallying from the Ace
Hotel. The dual developer arrangement, while we’re at it, is itself
unusual. And condo owners will have a separate lobby, though when the
building welcomes its first tenants come December, Equity’s Prism
apartments—spread between the second and 22nd floors, with studios
starting at $3,400 a month and three-bedrooms at $15,900—will hardly be
serviced by a “poor door.”
Entries
divided, residents will share basement-level amenities, including a
pool and a golf simulator, lest the developers be accused of
anti-egalitarian spirit. (The most modest, one-bedroom condo listing
currently asks $1.97 million.)
Collectively,
the edifice will resemble a rocket ship, Equity vice president George
Kruse told us during a recent tour of rental floors, with twin flanking
structures that drop away like boosters into the shade of an upthrust
central spire. Interiors, on the other hand, seemed influenced more by
the industrial-to-residential conversions that have lately come into
vogue than by futuristic trappings of interstellar travel.
“We
priced each unit individually,” Mr. Kruse said of the apartments, which
have angular, jigsaw-reminiscent floor plans that dole out light, air
and scenery in disparate portions.
Finishes,
generally, are light, clean, medium-luxe: stainless steel Whirlpool
appliances, blonde strip wood flooring, synthetic cabinetry, spacious,
glass-enclosed showers.
But
imparities crop up even within units. A two-bedroom on the eighth floor
had a wide, open living room with walls of angled glass that seemed to
cantilever over bustling Park Avenue South, a clever effect achieved in
many of the dwellings. The master suite, however, huddled dimly against
an interior courtyard, as did many of the Prism’s studios.
“We don’t think having the master in the back is a downside,” Mr. Kruse reasoned. “We actually think it’s a plus.”
Standing
shadowed in one apartment, a near-identical version of which had been
leased on another floor, Mr. Kruse recounted a sales pitch. “It is
slightly dark,” he said. “But we just kind of went with the dark. We
didn’t try to make it anything that it isn’t.”
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