Step out of the hotel and you are standing in the middle of a story that has been about design for more than a century. Where Broadway cuts diagonally across the Manhattan grid just south of here, it leaves behind a scatter of odd triangular lots — and odd lots invite bold buildings. In the 1870s and ’80s this was where New York came to be seen, and the architecture rose to the occasion.
The first true believer was a furniture man. Charles Baudouine had made his fortune building Rococo cabinets so fine they now sit in museum collections, and in 1893 he poured that sensibility into a building: a six-story Moorish Revival fantasy at 256 Fifth Avenue, its windows shifting shape and ornament floor by floor. For years its tenant was the celebrity photographer Napoleon Sarony, who shot Sarah Bernhardt and Oscar Wilde a few doors from where you stand. Commerce and craft, under one flamboyant roof — the neighborhood’s founding idea.
The Architects Arrive
Then came the firm that built Gilded Age New York. McKim, Mead & White gave Madison Square its great pleasure palace — the second Madison Square Garden, of 1890, a Spanish-Renaissance confection crowned by Augustus Saint-Gaudens’s gilded Diana, who turned with the wind high above the rooftops until the building came down in 1925. With the masters working nearby, the rest of the profession followed. The St. James Building at 1133 Broadway filled with architectural offices; the Brunswick, Townsend, and Baudouine buildings filled in behind it. Wedged between the Ladies’ Mile department stores to the south and the rising Garment District to the northwest, NoMad became the place where designers, manufacturers, and clients all happened to meet.
The Building You’re Standing In
That history isn’t an abstraction here — it’s the address. In 1907, on the site of a society widow’s mansion, McKim, Mead & White raised a serene Italian Renaissance palazzo for the Second National Bank. That limestone building is now the heart of The Fifth Avenue Hotel: its façade meticulously preserved, its interiors reimagined by Martin Brudnizki, a glass tower rising quietly behind it. You are, quite literally, staying inside the neighborhood’s oldest argument — that the old and the new belong together.
A Living Design District
The argument is still being made, now in showrooms. The blocks between 25th and 30th hold one of the world’s great concentrations of furniture and lighting: B&B Italia, Molteni&C, Poliform, and Natuzzi line Madison Avenue, and the multi-brand DDC stages its collection like a rotating art exhibition. In the historic lofts overhead — the St. James and Townsend among them — hundreds of designers, architects, and studios now work the very trades that filled those floors a hundred years ago.
What sets NoMad apart from a conventional design center is that almost none of it hides behind a trade-only door. The showrooms spill onto the sidewalk; most welcome the curious as warmly as the professional. You can feel the same instinct in the neighborhood’s rooms: upstairs at Eleven Madison Park, the Clemente Bar — designed by Brad Cloepfil — glows with gilded frescoes painted directly onto the walls by the artist Francesco Clemente, furnished with pieces by Brett Robinson and lit by custom lamps from Carsten Höller. Restaurant, bar, and gallery at once: exactly the kind of beautiful blurring this neighborhood has always done best.
Ninety-six landmarked buildings keep the backdrop intact; the brands and the bars keep it alive. Step outside and see how much of it is simply there, waiting for the looking.
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