We’ve landed in one of those storybook parts of Manhattan that seem to be designed by a focus group to be pretty, human-scaled, and dignified. It’s picture-perfect. Maybe too picture-perfect. But we’ll get there.

In the early 19th century, this stretch was still a leafy remove from the hustling downtown port. The southern part of the block made up the Warren Estate, which was a pastoral oasis, even as the city was filled in around it. A 1910 book, Within a Jersey Circle, remembered the house this way:

“The house stood in a perfect forest of grand old horse chestnuts, willows, poplars, sycamores and locusts, forming in places an impenetrable shade. Besides these, there were cherry, apricot and peach trees, always laden in their season with delicious fruit.” (Looks nice.)

When the owner died in 1864, what remained of the house, fruit trees, and the rest of the estate were carved up, ultimately giving way to the Italianate brownstones that now line the southern end of the block. When the wealthy owners moved uptown, the homes were subdivided until the newest generation of wealthy New Yorkers moved back in during the middle of the 20th century.

Many of these streets were preserved in amber when the Greenwich Village Historic District was formed in 1969.

Streetview

The Hampton | 1887

This newsletter has a strong preference for distinctive red brick and this one’s a beaut.

This five-story apartment was built to house ten families, according to the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation, which notes that “the windows at the first floor display the blind horseshoe arches over the upper halves of the windows which give the building a vaguely Moorish or Art Nouveau feeling.”

Daytonian in Manhattan notes that you can see the scars of the stone horseshoe arch on the first floor and the cornice, which were removed. Sad!

Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment at 66 Perry Street | 1866

In 2024, the owner of 66 Perry Street petitioned the Landmarks Preservation Commission for permission to install a cast iron gate on her stoop.

“Dear Gentle People,” it began—and I’ll just quote the letter in full here because it tells the story better than I will:

The front of my house appeared in the Sex and the City TV series as the exterior of Carrie Bradshaw's apartment. My fault: I felt sorry for the young location scout, a recent grad from NYU Film School, who told me if he didn't secure THIS house the executive producer wanted, he would lose his first real job in the business. I relented and said exterior ONLY; never inside.

No one had any idea that the show would turn into the international fantasy vehicle and touchstone for the magic of NYC that it has become. As a result, my house has become a global tourist destination with endless reruns being streamed, generating a massive fan and follower base coming to my doorstep from all over the US and around the world. No matter what time of day or night, there will be groups of visitors in front of the house taking selfies, engaged in excited and often loud chatter, posting on social media, making videos for [TikTok], or simply having a little party.

She continued:

I have been resisting putting up a real gate for more than 20 years, hoping that this fascination with my staircase would die away and the fans would go find something else to be crazy about. I am finally resigned to the fact that the only way to have a little peace is to install a gate. But it HAS to blend in harmoniously with the rest of the façade.

And just like that, the gate was approved. We all know a gate is like couture. If it doesn’t fit perfectly…it’s a disaster.

It really is a nice brownstone though.

55-57 Perry | 1903?

In New York, they say you’re always looking for a job, a significant other, or an apartment. Hunter S. Thompson seems to have had mixed luck with at least two of these here.

According to LiteraryHub, the gonzo guru moved to an apartment here for about nine months starting in April 1958. The website writes that the apartment had barred windows facing an airshaft and that he painted the floor, ceiling, and walls black “because, presumably, it made little difference.”

“Do you realize that sunlight NEVER ENTERS MY APARTMENT?” Thompson apparently wrote to an old girlfriend.

At the time, he was working for Time magazine but was looking further afield by applying to the Vancouver Sun with one of the most baller cover letters ever:

I didn’t make myself clear to the last man I worked for until after I took the job. It was as if the Marquis de Sade had suddenly found himself working for Billy Graham. The man despised me, of course, and I had nothing but contempt for him and everything he stood for. If you asked him, he’d tell you that I’m “not very likable, (that I) hate people, (that I) just want to be left alone, and (that I) feel too superior to mingle with the average person.” (That’s a direct quote from a memo he sent to the publisher.)

Nothing beats having good references.

As far as a significant other? Well, the record’s a little thin. But there’s always drugs! According to the LiteraryHub article, here Thompson and his coworker eventually started using marijuana, cocaine, acid, mescaline, and adrenaline.

Didja know that this street was named after Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, a War of 1812 hero, who—after besting the British in the Battle of Lake Erie—told his commanding officer that, “We have met the enemy and they are ours.”

Well? Didja know?

Spanish tiles at 88 Perry Street

A touch of Iberian magic near Bleecker Street.

Village Preservation notes that when the owner of this building, who also ran a Spanish antiques shop around the corner, renovated it in 1972, he commissioned a noted Spanish tilemaker to create this azulejo tile mural in a recessed archway. (The 1868 here commemorates the year the building was built.)

The great thing about these historic districts is that every single inch seems to have a document trail. Here’s an old presentation to the local Community Board about a proposal to “legalize” the mural, which—even though is small and very nice and had been around for more than 40 years by that point—was still running afoul of the Landmarks Preservation Commission.

Whatever happened to fun?

87 Perry Street | 1818

This little corner building is an ancient wood-framed house that was originally two stories and one of only two survivors of a set of nine built by Aaron Henry, according to the city’s Landmark designation report. It’s a lot more polished and stuccoed now than when it was photographed in 1932.

Over the years, it’s housed a fashionable sequence of shops. There was the high-end plant shop in the 1960s, a glass and pottery store by Simon Pearce through the 80s.

When it was a Marc Jacobs store, one employee was charged with stealing $62,000 in less than a year and a half. As Carrie says, these guys weren’t just after money anymore; they were after fashion. And appropriately enough here, later came Sarah Jessica Parker’s shoe store, which is gone like Carrie’s Manolo Blahniks and is now a jewelry store.

73 Perry Street | 1868

Seems like Norman Mailer lived here at one point. Here are some photos from 2020, when it sold for $9.9 million.

What’s Good: They say nothing lasts forever; dreams change, trends come and go, but the West Village will never go out of style. (And with that, I’m finally done with these Sex and the City references, so that’s a plus. Sorry for that.)

What’s Not: This little block just wants to get a little sleep!

Block Rating: 7.75/10