I saw a friend in Manhattan Sunday. On my way back to Connecticut, before I got into my car, I looked up.
It’s interesting how much of Manhattan hides in plain site. Take penthouses for instance.
The word penthouse has been used in so many different way, it’s easy to forget what it really means… or at least my interpretation. A penthouse is a dwelling atypical of the rest of the building, placed on the highest floor. Often it is an actual house on the roof.
I’m not sure how many I saw as I gazed skyward on this day, the sky whitened by haze and stratus clouds. I made the assumption, anywhere I saw real trees near the roof of a building, I was looking at a penthouse.
I’ve been in lots of Manhattan apartments, but never a penthouse. I know no one who lives in one, or at least says they live in one.
It would seem this is the ultimate New York abode. It’s high enough to have a view. It’s also high enough to make it difficult to be viewed. You’d hope it’s expansive enough to not be cramped – a New York apartment tradition, and separate enough to remove it from noisy neighbors.
When I get one, I’ll shoot lots of photos. In the meantime, don’t hold your breath waiting.