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From: Architexturez-IN <admin-in@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
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Date: Sat, 22 Mar 2008 13:57:03 +0530
WHEN Rem Koolhaas’s Prada flagship opened in SoHo in 2001, it was so
razor-fabulous as to inspire awe and terror. Your ears veritably popped
from the altitude of hippest chic. Quiet and clean as space, it had its
own Formica canyon: a plunging swoop of wood paneling redolent of a
skateboard half pipe, on which headless and sometimes dismembered
mannequins were arranged like drill squads, donning feats of elegance so
ablaze with imagination as to be galaxies away from the scrum of black
overcoats elbowing across Broadway and Prince.
Neither the corner nor the Koolhaas has improved since then. Outside,
SoHo has devolved into a gritty stadium-crowd mall. The zebrawood
paneling is beginning to get the scratchiti veneer of a grade-school
desktop. Rugs are stained, corners are scuffed; the staff looks
frazzled. The music is angular and nervous.
cont'd....
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/20/fashion/20CRITIC.html?_r=1&ref=fashion&oref=slogin