#Flatiron Building history

[uglyandtraveling]

The Gooderham Building in Toronto: A Flatiron Gem with a Fascinating History!

Discover the Gooderham Building, a historic Toronto landmark! Learn about its fascinating history, stunning architecture, and role in the Distillery District. A must-see for visitors and locals alike.

[rabbitcruiser]

New Amsterdam was renamed New York on September 8, 1664, in honor of the Duke of York (later James II of England), in whose name the English had captured it.

[newmosbiusdesigns]

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

A picture of the non-exhibition fourth print privately sold by Christie's. The Flatiron is a colored photograph made by Luxembourgish American photographer Edward Steichen.

Edward Steichen, Flatiron Building, New York City, NY, 1904

[the1920sinpictures]

1913 By the Flatiron Building by Broadway, 5th Avenue and 23rd Street in Lower Manhattan after a blizzard. From New York City-Vintage History, FB.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Tony Sarg, The Flatiron Building. From the book Tony Sarg's New York, 1927.

Other posts with illustrations from this book:

The Great White Way

Washington Market

The Stock Exchange

Jefferson Market Police Court

Columbus Circle

Museum of Natural History

City Hall

Source: The Cary Collection

[e-mathema]

Fifth Avenue Building Tiffany Clock in front of Flatiron Building.

The Fifth Avenue Building Tiffany Clock is a notable landmark located at 727 Fifth Avenue in New York City. Crafted by the renowned Tiffany & Co., this clock is an iconic example of the craftsmanship and artistry the company is known for.

Installed in 1900, the clock features intricate details and elegant design typical of Tiffany's work. It stands as a symbol of luxury and timelessness, reflecting the opulence of the surrounding area. The clock itself has become a popular meeting spot for both locals and tourists, adding to the bustling atmosphere of Fifth Avenue.

The Tiffany Clock is not just a functional timepiece; it also represents a blend of art and architecture, capturing the spirit of early 20th-century New York. Its presence on Fifth Avenue aligns it with the city's rich history of commerce and culture.

[thevitalportal]

The building design and iconic location in Atlanta at the corner of Peachtree St. and Auburn Ave was built and occupied In Atlanta, Georgia, in 1897. The Flatiron Building in New York was built and occupied in 1902. Just the facts, please.

National Geographic, Flatiron Building, New York. W.W. Rock. 1918

[848ellie]

Flatiron Building 🗽 My first trip to New York City was one I'll never forget. As I walked through the famous streets and took photos with the Flatiron Building, I couldn’t help but think about all the history and culture the city has seen. It feels like the past is still alive.

[visit-new-york]

Fifth Avenue Building Tiffany Clock

Fifth Avenue Building Tiffany Clock in front of Flatiron Building

Nestled in the heart of Manhattan at 727 Fifth Avenue, the Tiffany Clock stands as a symbol of elegance and craftsmanship that embodies the spirit of New York City. Created by the renowned Tiffany & Co. in 1900, this iconic timepiece has captured the attention of both locals and tourists for over a century. With its intricate design and historical significance, the Tiffany Clock is more than just a functional object; it’s a piece of art that reflects the opulence of its surroundings.

The Fifth Avenue Building, where the Tiffany Clock is located, has long been a hub of commerce and culture in New York City. As the city evolved, so too did the architectural landscape along Fifth Avenue, a street synonymous with luxury shopping and iconic landmarks. The clock was commissioned during a period of great innovation and artistic expression, making it a fitting addition to one of the city’s most prestigious avenues.

Tiffany & Co., founded in 1837, is renowned for its fine jewelry and exquisite craftsmanship. The creation of the Tiffany Clock showcased the company’s commitment to artistry beyond jewelry, emphasizing its role in the decorative arts. Designed in the style of the Beaux-Arts movement, the clock features elaborate details that draw the eye and inspire admiration.

The Tiffany Clock is notable for its striking design, featuring an ornate face surrounded by intricately crafted embellishments. The clock’s gilded elements and elegant proportions reflect the luxury of the early 20th century. Standing at approximately 10 feet tall, it commands attention, serving as a functional centerpiece in the bustling environment of Fifth Avenue.

The clock is adorned with various decorative motifs, showcasing the expertise of Tiffany artisans. Its craftsmanship is a testament to the company’s dedication to quality and design, making it a cherished historical artifact. The clock’s face is marked with Roman numerals, lending it a classic charm that resonates with passersby.

Beyond its aesthetic appeal, the Tiffany Clock holds cultural significance as a gathering point for New Yorkers and visitors alike. Its central location makes it a popular meeting spot, often referred to in casual conversations as "meet me at the Tiffany Clock." This has helped cement its status as a social landmark in the city.

The clock also symbolizes the rich history of New York City as a center for commerce, art, and culture. Its presence on Fifth Avenue aligns it with other iconic institutions, reinforcing the avenue’s reputation as a destination for luxury and elegance.

As the city continues to evolve, the Tiffany Clock remains a steadfast reminder of the artistry and history that define Fifth Avenue, inviting all who encounter it to pause, appreciate, and reflect on the beauty of their surroundings.

[en-la-casademiamor]

Me and Yo-Yo Ma

The year was 1993 or 94’. I guess that fact is not important—What is, is the mood. The juncture of history

before the landscape of a city would change. It was a crisp bright winter day. Similar to today.

It was quite early. Quite early. The city was calm.

I had arrived before rush hour and I had had time. Not much money,

but enough for a regular cup of coffee that in those days was poured into modern day transferware: A cheap paper cup that always bore on it the imprint of an Ancient Greek motif.

The coffee cost about a buck, maybe it was less than that; and it was always too hot; bitter—but I would drink it and I never truly complained. I just kept adding sugar. And more sugar. And never worried about that then.

The buildings gleaned over its people. The sun rays wove with intent between loud sounding traffic lights and the idling of city buses. It was about then that I heard Yo-Yo Ma playing his cello.

With every turn that I took, the glory of morning stayed upon my head. I was being crowned. Illuminated or urged.

I next found myself in the Flatiron district where there is a park. A great number of pigeons were commiserating and they’d hop away to clear a path for my feet as I made my way through.

I sat on an old, cold bench. I wore a beautiful, thrifted, late 1960’s navy wool coat. It made me feel rich. A homeless man slept on a neighboring bench a mere few feet away with a newspaper over his head.

There were in attendance too, a few elderly folk feeding, of course, the pigeons.

I could hear them murmuring to themselves or to the birds. Their coats, in much less pristine condition resembled mine.

Clumps of bread would leap out of their hands, over their metal walkers; and the pigeons would descend, peck, and take off, while then a series of other pigeons landed. None of these birds looked like they ever did without.

Life is a rotation of many things, is it? This is what I think of at this moment. I hear the sound of Yo-Yo Ma playing a cello again—In my head, of course. But somewhere in this world, Yo-Yo Ma is really playing, isn’t he?

His cello always makes music on its own when the sun is brightest and the contrast of our lives is all out in the open.

[mtaartsdesign]

Mark Hadjipateras’ “City Dwellers (for Costas and Maro)” (2000) at 28 St (R,W) station animates the walls of the station with a series of robot-like creatures rendered in a playful cartoon-like style. The work is inspired by nearby landmarks such as the Toy Center and the Flatiron Building as well as the flower, fur, and garment districts. The figures are joyous and fanciful, but closer examination reveals universal symbols and forms that reflect the neighborhood and its history: technology, toys, and commerce.

Photos: MTA A&D/Rob Wilson

[rabbitcruiser]

The first red and green traffic lights were installed in Manhattan on February 26, 1930.    

[victorian-nymph]

Crackhead The Boys headcanons my friend and I came up with on discord

Homelander has no idea how normal families actually function; thinks that mothers feed their children by spitting food in their mouth. Like birds

Butcher had a hORRENDOUS mullet in the late 80s (c.age 15)

Butcher and Hughie had to give Soldier Boy an entire high school history presentation on how the United States has regressed since 1984, the google presentation got corrupted twice

Butcher has "dress shirts" that are just lighter coloured hawaiian shirts he doesn't want getting bloody

Becca was pissed as fuck because she missed the Spice World 2019 tour whilst she was in suburban prison

They have a Wii at the flatiron building and the boys regularly get into Just Dance games with it

[feverinfeveroutfic]

love is not enough | chapter seventeen

a/n: giddyup~

The New York City skyline emerged from below the airplane windows, and he was eager to step off there for the time being. Each time he visited New York, it felt as though he had come back home, especially with his parents having hailed from there for decades before he was born. He gazed out the window to the shimmering skyscrapers against the clear blue sky and the glimmering waters of the Hudson Bay, and all the streets down below which were the size of drinking straws.

“We should try and visit all the museums while we're here,” Q suggested as the seatbelt lights flickered on over their heads.

“All the museums?” he asked her with a slight chuckle. “There are so many of them!”

“How many are there?”

“Something like a hundred. All manner of art and history museums. There's a museum dedicated to coins, another one dedicated strictly to photography... the Bernard Museum for Jewish art. In fact, there's a shitload of Jewish museums all around the city. And Asian ones. And Latin American ones. The Air and Space Museum. The Brooklyn Botanic Garden. The Brooklyn Museum. One for Coney Island. A few dedicated to architecting.”

“Architecting?” Jay chuckled at that.

“There's a bunch of children's museums,” he continued. “Parts of the Smithsonian. One for Edgar Allan Poe. One for Ellis Island. Gracie Mansion. Greenwood Cemetery. The Guggenheim. The Metropolitan. MoMa. One for Louis Armstrong. Madame Tussauds. The Museum of Ice Cream. The Museum of Math. The Museum of Movies. The Museum of Jazz. The Museum of Sex...” He showed them a playful grin at that last tidbit, to which they both took a glimpse at one another.

“I think we've created a monster, Q,” Jay remarked.

“I think we have, too, Jay,” Q quipped with a flash of her eyebrows. “Not to mention, he sure did whip out his brain here with the sight of the city below us.”

“I feel like I should be in New York,” he confessed to them. “I don't know... my parents are from here. My grandparents were, too. I have cousins over here, as well as my aunts and uncles. Somehow, by some odd chance, my parents and I found ourselves out in California, even though my blood runs here in the Northeast.”

“Take you to New York and have our brains stimulated amongst other things,” Jay said with a smile to him.

“The brain is a sexual organ, you know,” he assured her as he buckled in. “Everything you pick up, you take into your brain as well. I figure we have plenty of time—let's take the subway... I believe it's over by Rose Hill, if I recall correctly.”

“How many times have you been here before?” Q asked him.

“Plenty. And plenty enough to remember what gets me off, too.” He flashed her a wink, and the plane began its descent to the tarmac, away from all the buildings.

The overly clean smell of the airport only followed them out to the street, where he led them to the nearest subway station up the block. It was a cool day in New York City, but they knew it would be some time before it rained a great deal there like it did in Kansas City.

“It's going to take us a while to get over to the Flatiron District from here, but... we can spare a while, though,” he assured them as Jay paid for their way onto the next train. They padded through the terminal, which smelled of cheap cleaner, stale alcohol, cigarette ashes, and fresh vomit, but neither of them were fazed by it. He put either arm around the two of them as they awaited the subway train under the bricks, still shiny and silvery despite being a decade or two in age. Jay adjusted her cap so the petals of her broach shimmered under the overhead lights; he showed the little flower a smile, and he knew there had to be a decent way to get these two girls out to Hawai'i.

They stood back as the train rolled up before them, but they were eager to board first.

“Museum of Sex, here we come,” he declared with a straight face. He stood over them while they hunkered down in the seat closest to the sliding doors. He glanced about their compartment, where only a few people took the seats around them. It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and after a major storm system hit Tornado Alley: he knew they were going to have all the sex on display all to themselves. He glanced over at the taro broach on Jay's cap, and the shape of the flower made him think about that museum itself.

The flowers in bloom for the birds and the bees. The onset of spring to send late winter chills down his spine to the space between his legs. It was the mere mention of the museum that sent him into an unknown part of himself. Maybe it was being with those two girls, and maybe it was the thrill of it all, but he found himself with a slight itch he couldn't seem to scratch even if all he did was think about it.

It was only just shy of an hour before they reached the Flatiron District, and right down the block from the Museum of Sex itself. They emerged from the subway station, only to be met with some light traffic within a block or so from the heart of downtown.

“Fifth Avenue, ladies,” he announced to them over the traffic. “I can see it right up ahead.”

Indeed, right up the street, through four stoplights, they could see the sign itself as well as the pink and blue neon lettering above. The three of them walked side by side with their sunglasses on, and with his arms still around either of their backs to guide them along. By the time they reached the second crosswalk, and they caught the light green no less, he unfastened the first three buttons near the collar of his shirt.

“You need like body glitter or something on your chest, babe,” Jay suggested.

“Body glitter,” he echoed that with a chuckle. “Body glitter, it's like you want me to look like a pimp.”

“A pimp or straight outta Miami Vice,” Q added, and they reached the next crosswalk, where they were met with a familiar aroma.

“Popcorn?” Jay asked aloud.

“Popcorn with... sugar,” he added. “Like the smell you get from a candy store.”

Indeed, when they crossed the street, he peeked down the block, only to find a myriad of restaurants, cafes, shops, bistros, as well as the back end of Koreatown. The smell of popcorn combined with baked goods and Korean barbecue from the next block up was all too much to bear, especially since it came about all at once and especially for him. The three of them congregated at the final crosswalk when he finally set a hand on his stomach. He had barely eaten anything on the plane, and breakfast only stayed with him for so long before he started to feel it again.

“You okay?” Q asked him with a smile.

“Smell all of that food,” he proclaimed. “We've got popcorn and some bakeries and barbecue and—” He sniffed the air. “Some pizza, too.” He sniffed the air again, and that time he closed his eyes. “I think I smell kreplach, too. Phew, man—I haven't had kreplach since I graduated from high school. Good kreplach, further back than that.” He turned his attention to the Museum of Sex, which stood right across the intersection from them.

Two desires conflated all at one intersection. He had the hunger in his stomach as well as below his belt.

“Oh, man.” He lowered his voice down to where the traffic nearly drowned him out. “Oh, my god. This is more than the best of both worlds here. Just... the two worlds.”

“Tevye's a rat in paradise,” Jay cracked.

“God, it's too much,” he decreed. “It's all too much. I feel like if I live here, I'm going to get so fat.” He rested a hand on his slender belly, to which Jay and Q rested their hands on the back of his as if to feel his warmth. “I'm just going to want to eat everything in sight, especially the kreplach!”

“We're going to have to protect you, baby,” Q said right into his ear, and then she ran her tongue along the rim. The light turned green and they padded across the pavement to the next corner up. A little more waiting, and they crossed the street perpendicular to them until they reached the front doors of the museum itself.

Seventeen dollars each to get in, but Jay was happy to cover for them.

The front foyer of the museum smelled of cinnamon and sugar, but the smell was least of their interest as they were met with a ten foot high pearly white poster of three silvery gray elk climbing on top of each other for a threesome.

“That's us in another life,” Q declared in a single breath.

“Why another life when that could be us now?” Jay quipped, to which he chuckled at that.

The same image was translated over to a metal statue in the middle of the floor before them.

Sex toys on display. Statues of monkeys and primates in a powerful pose with their dicks fully erect. A whole section dedicated to kinks. A giant woman down on her knees with her ass pointed out towards them: it was there that he felt a wave of intense warmth wash over him.

A tight feeling emerged in his chest, such that he lingered back from the two of them. It didn't help matters that all the aromas out there on the street only made him hungry.

“You okay, babe?” Jay asked him as they stopped ahead of him. He peered behind him to the wooden park bench in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, god. I don't know if I can last in here.” He sank down onto the bench with his legs spread out before him. The warmth in his face was intoxicating, perhaps more so than the very advent of the museum itself. He peered over his shoulder to find a series of glass and rubber dildos under a sheet of plexiglas right by his head. He turned his head to the other direction to find the entrance to what was called the “Pink Room”, and he could only assume as to what that was if those two girls were anything to go by. Q took her seat next to him and rested a hand on his knee. Jay stood before them with her jacket zipped up all the way: the black leather hugged the curves of her body, and he knew that the whole section dedicated to lingerie was upon them as well.

“I'm hungry, and it's just...” He gazed up behind them, to the giant ass shrouded in black and white stripes. “Surrounded by sex and it's just... phew.” He closed his eyes and fanned himself with the side of his hand. “Doing something to me.”

“Arousing you?” Jay asked him with a slight shake to her body. She rested her hands on her hips to accentuate the hourglass shape of her body. He licked his lips, and he had no idea which hunger to satisfy first right then, especially when he glanced off to the left again to see the entrance to the section about kinks was up ahead as well. Surely there had to be a kink dedicated to eating.

“You have no idea,” he told her with a shake of his hair: he ran his hands down his exposed chest and his belly, and then down onto his thighs.

“Oh, yeah, this place is doing to something to him,” Q declared.

“Let's explore our kinks, shall we?” he suggested, and with a slight groan, he stood to his feet and shook his hips a bit for them. Q stood on his left while Jay took to his right, and he once again put his arms around the small of their backs to guide them along the fine carpet underneath them; and all the while, he kept his eye on that giant black and white striped ass off to the right.

[the1920sinpictures]

1913 Winter in New York City, right at the Flatiron Building. From New York City - Vintage History, FB.