I went to see a condo in Midtown with my buyers one rainy fall day. The building sat right on Madison Avenue, and from the living room, you could see the blurred lights of cars stretching uptown through the rain.
The ceiling height was unusually generous for an apartment on a higher floor, yet inside, it was remarkably quiet—completely removed from the honking and commotion on the street below. I remember thinking I could pull out my favorite book, stretch my legs across the enormous sofa, and spend the entire day looking out the window.
The building entrance was discreet, the marble lobby elegant without being showy. The doorman was attentive.
When I think about condo living in New York, I think about a certain kind of ease. There’s the convenience, of course, but also the flexibility. If one day you decide to try life in another city, you can generally rent out your apartment without a lot of restrictions.
But more than anything, when I think about condo living, I still think about that rainy fall day—with New York City at my fingertips, yet somehow just far enough away.