There are all kinds of envy in this town. There’s money envy against those who have more, often obscenely more, of the stuff than you do. There’s apartment envy, which often correlates closely with money envy. There’s career envy, relationship envy, school envy; indeed, New York has devised an almost infinite variety of ways to feel insecure about oneself.
Rob Bennett for The Wall Street Journal
Alex MacLean takes in the cityscape from atop the Standard East Village hotel at Cooper Square in Manhattan. His new book is ‘Up On A Roof.’
But there’s another form of envy that is frequently overlooked and that may be just as potent, especially in a metropolis where sunlight is at a premium and it’s easy to forget that one remains part of the natural world. I’m speaking of roof envy: the jealous feelings aroused toward those who own, or at least have access to, outdoor spaces where they can sunbathe, barbecue or simply enjoy vistas larger than those framing their neighbors’ apartments.
Part of the allure, the mystique, of roofs is that they offer a modicum of privacy. You can do pretty much anything you please up there—and I suspect people do—and no one on the street below will be any the wiser. The only thing you have to worry about are those looking down from even higher roofs, or others who also have keys to the space.
But being a “small D” democrat, I’m happy to report that the veil of privacy surrounding penthouse living is finally being lifted in a new book titled “Up On A Roof” (Princeton Architectural Press). If you’ve ever wondered who has the most splendid roof in New York (though I realize that’s a subjective judgment), the most lushly planted, the prettiest pool, etc., your curiosity may be appeased thanks to photojournalist Alex MacLean, the book’s author, who has documented seemingly every roof worth shooting in the city.
Indeed, when his publicist and I were deciding how and where I’d interview the photographer, she suggested a helicopter ride. As much as I love helicopters, I declined for several reasons, including that it’s hard to conduct an interview in a helicopter, and because hovering in midair feels unnatural to me and brings on intimations of mortality.
So we decided instead to meet on a scenic roof with great views—that on the Standard East Village hotel. What I didn’t realize until I met Mr. MacLean and got a look at the book was that the reason his publicist suggested a chopper is because that’s how he shot the book, over the course of approximately 25 hours hanging over the city.
“I started to realize there was so much going on with the rooftops that had implications for the city, making the city more livable,” he explained of the project. The idea came to him while he was doing aerial studies of Brooklyn Bridge Park for Michael Van Valkenburgh, its landscape designer. He said he couldn’t help but notice how the city’s rooftops were evolving.
Some of the boom in roof culture has to do with the money certain segments of the population have accumulated in recent years. “The wealth made a big difference,” acknowledged Mr. MacLean. Combine that with growing environmental consciousness, or at least the urge to tan, and you’ve got rooftop terraces, and even pools, popping up all over the place.
Such elaborate sky gardens were once limited primarily to the Upper East and West sides. And based on Mr. MacLean’s aerial reconnaissance of spectacular penthouse gardens, such as at 855 and 1125 Fifth Ave., they still boast the skyline’s most mature trees. But with the gentrification and subsequent zillionaireification of neighborhoods such as SoHo and TriBeCa, on warm spring and summer nights there’s almost as much action up under the stars as on the street below.
The images shot from above of the High Line—a rooftop of sorts—are especially dramatic, reminiscent of the way the Mara River snakes through the arid Serengeti, lush green against the surrounding bleached landscape. Except that in this case the wildebeest, zebra and giraffe are replaced by people out for an afternoon stroll and the pale hues of the Masai Mara by the budding luxury condos of Chelsea.
Another development in recent years is that of the de rigueur pool, restaurant or at least expansive outdoor terrace space with bar and chaises atop the new breed of boutique luxury hotel or upscale condo. Mr. MacLean ably documents this phenomenon at residences such as 55-77 Bethune St. in the West Village, where there appeared to be a financial services industry cocktail party under way as Mr. MacLean flew over. There’s also an engaging image of the rooftop bar at the Ravel Hotel in Long Island City, where, based on the sparse crowd, long shadows and two female servers in little black dresses chatting idly, the evening cocktail hour is just getting going.
There’s also an aerial view of the pool at Soho House that helps to answer the question of how many angels you can get on the head of a pin, or at least fashion models cheek by jowl at a scene swimming pool on a sweltering summer day.
Perhaps my favorite image in that chapter, rather too solemnly titled “Collective Use,” concerns the crowded roof of the Standard New York hotel in the meatpacking district. If you look closely at the faces of the guests wedged onto the terrace, you can see they’re all watching the helicopter—”You sit with the door open; you’re strapped in,” the photographer explained of his modus operandi—and don’t appear especially enthused that they’re being buzzed. One gentleman expresses his displeasure in ways unmistakable even from the air.
“I’m looking at it on the computer,” Mr. MacLean recalled, of examining the image after he returned to Earth. “I felt bad that I’m annoying someone to the point where he’s giving me the finger.”
Mr. MacLean didn’t have the unforgettable luck I once did while working at NBC years ago. Looking down from 30 Rock, I spotted Rockettes sunbathing on the roof of Radio City. He has, however, captured several images of sunbathers, one of whom looks more appropriately dressed for a beach in the south of France than 23rd Street, where pedestrians are crossing with the light below.
There’s also a section devoted to “green” roofs, both literally and figuratively, those planted to reduce New York’s “heat-island” effect and storm-water runoff. After leaving the Standard East Village we visited Cook+Fox Architects, at 641 Avenue of the Americas. The firm’s drought-resistant sedum-planted roof is featured in the book.
“It’s funny,” Mr. MacLean said as we got out of a cab and he examined the handsome 1902 building where Cook+Fox is located. “I don’t recognize it. I’m clueless from the street.”
