A rendering of one of the sketchy new vagrant magnets going up in Kips Bay.

Kips Bay, the East Side enclave pocked with post-war towers, has been largely protected from many of the changes that have transformed other sections of Manhattan. Neither particularly posh nor particularly gritty, nor particularly beautiful, the neighborhood is known as a good place to raise a family or fade into senescence.

But now the cloistered area is getting an unwelcome shot of vigor in the form of new micro-unit apartments. The local community board is terrified that the diminutive middle-class housing units will draw undesirable elements, bad seeds, transients.

"No matter what anyone says, we're worried that these are going to be SROs that are run as hotels," Toni Carlina, the community board's district manager, told the Wall Street Journal.

Egad!

The fear is totally unfounded—Ms. Carlina confessed as much when he admitted that they believed the apartments would be SROs "no matter what anyone says." Besides size, the micro-apartments will be no different than other studios; they'll have kitchens, bathrooms and be rented out with yearly leases. But the reaction highlights the kind of terror of the new that is prevalent in many New York neighborhoods. (The great bike share controversy is now engulfing whole corners of the city.)

But what makes the micro-apartment situation so interesting is that they're totally designed for yuppies—the kind of people whom even the biggest fuddy-duddys usually love to welcome to the neighborhood. (Families are debatably more desirable, but then, there are always those who will complain about children.)

With rents that start at $914 a month and will probably go well beyond $2,000 for the market-rate units, the micro-apartments will, it seems safe to say, be rented out exclusively to middle- and upper-middle-class tenants. To live there, residents will need to earn at least $36,560 a year  to meet the rule of thumb for New York apartments that a renter's salary should be 40 times the monthly rent.

Indeed, the relatively high costs of the apartments (40 percent of which will be "affordable" and set aside for tenants earning no more than $77,190 a year) has caused some fretting that the wee apartments won't really be affordable at all. Affordable units will go up to $1,873 a month, less than the average Manhattan studio price of $2,000 but hardly a bargain, especially considering that while brand new, they're only 250 to 370 square feet.

Nonetheless, SROs aren't the only thing that locals are worried about. They also fear loitering. And vagrants! According to the Journal: "The community board is also concerned about an eating-and-drinking establishment being allowed in the building, since she said the public plaza that it will be facing has had a problem with vagrancy in the past, and residents worry that if there is a bar or restaurant open late into the night, vagrancy will once again be an issue."

But who isn't terrified of yuppie vagrants? Always sitting out at sidewalk cafes sipping $12 glasses of prosecco, hauling around bags of groceries from Whole Foods, pausing in public plazas to check their iPads.

The end.

It's news certain to bring despair to vinyl aficionados, Village old-timers and anyone with a soul: cluttered, beloved West 3rd staple Bleecker Bob's Records has closed down after 46 years. A frozen yogurt chain is slated to open in its place.

The legendary music store sold its last record this Saturday, DNAinfo reports. Which would be bad news even if the Village weren't already inundated with frozen yogurt shops and if the funky culture purveyors that make the Village the Village hadn't been bloodying their fingernails trying to hang onto increasingly unaffordable leases for more than a decade.

But at least we can take some small comfort from the closure: rather than "teaming up" with Forever Frozen Yogurt, lending the Chicago-based chain an air of authenticity that it obviously hadn't earned, Bleecker Bob's has opted for a dignified death.

With a dearth of other options, the store's management had, after losing its lease to the deep-pocketed fro-yo joint, considered committing itself to an unhappy marriage with Forever Frozen Yogurt. The chain was keen to cash in on Bleecker Bob's Village cred, telling DNAinfo that a partnership was being discussed that would incorporate the record store's design elements into the frozen yogurt shop with a small area set aside for selling music.

“We try to keep every store unique and different from each other,” the yogurt franchise’s CEO told DNAinfo. “It’s about appreciating the neighborhood itself and the elements that are special for that neighborhood.”

But in the end, the record shop apparently decided that it didn't want to help shill desserts to pseudo dieters. There is, after all, a difference between changing with the times and changing altogether. As one of the store's managers said to DNAinfo: “The Dead Boys [album] is still going to sell for $15. It’s not going to sell for $100, Louis Vuitton-style.” (More like $2,000, Louis Vuitton-style.)

Nothing lasts forever (even Forever Frozen Yogurt may someday meet its demise), but there is something unsettling in the recent spate of small business closures: namely, that the businesses were popular, had been popular for years, and were likely to continue being popular had it not been for huge rent increases.

While every other store that opens in Brooklyn seems to be defined by some bizarre culinary obsession (chutney, mayo, pickles), affinity for anything but making as much money as possible is proving fatal for Manhattan entrepreneurs. Businesses are there to make money, of course (and make money they should), but that is not all they are or can be.

Bleecker Bob's loss resounds not only in all the traditional ways—in New York our communities and lives are defined by our haunts and habits, the streets and stores, cafes and bars where we spend the bulk of our free time—but also as a sign that a way of life is disappearing.

The half-hour documentary on the record store's last days (which you can watch on the store's blog) opens with a quote: "Music tells you about a moment in time." Likewise, a neighborhood's stores and shops also tell you about a moment in time and Bleecker Bob's moment in the Village has, quite obviously, passed. This is the moment for frozen yogurt chains and Chipotles, Duane Reades and Sephoras.

Being able to rummage through records at 2 a.m. (Bleecker Bob's stayed open until 3 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays) isn't everything, but grungy clubs and book stores and the kind of people who like to dig through records after midnight have, over the years, lent Manhattan much of its appeal. In addition to the fresh-faced NYU students and the wealthy townhouse dwellers, it helped make the Village the diverse, appealing place that it is. Or, at least, that it was.

New condo towers mean construction racket.

Poor Williamsburg. It's now suffering a terrible fate known to but a handful of pert prom queens and high school football hunks—it is not only possible to be popular, but to be too popular.

While many of the newcomers who have recently washed up on Williamsburg's luxury condo-strewn shores are no doubt aware that the neighborhood is "changing" and that that change is part of what makes it attractive to so many new, well-heeled residents—would they have been able to buy artisanal chutney there back in 2005?—they're apparently more than a little uncomfortable with the fact that it continues to, well, change. At least, they hate the construction, according to DNAinfo.

"It's annoying to be outside with a baby, it's loud and dusty," Northside Piers resident Vanessa Vellucci told DNAinfo.

She's not the only one. Other mothers complain about having to take their children to local cafes far from the construction noise to get in a decent nap. Bars might also be a good option—day drinkers tend toward quiet melancholy—if you can get out before the baby curfew kicks in.

Even nannies are complaining about the construction dust blowing into baby's faces and making them cry.

But most admit that irksome though all the racket may be, it's just part of living in a neighborhood that's basically being built from scatch—one SoulCycle gym and condo tower at a time. (Well, sometimes several at one time).

"I do love the neighborhood, and once it's done it'll be amazing," one woman told DNAinfo. "But I guess if you move here first, you have to go through the changes."

For the time being, they'll just have to grit their teeth, focus on rising real estate values and dream of the day when the only thing there will be to complain about is the unimaginative architecture.

Central Park West Enemy No. 1: Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School.

The meeting started out, as these meetings tend to, with loud admonitions from the audience to speak loudly into the microphone. “We can’t understand you!” one man shouted. “You do need the mic!” was a common refrain as speakers tried to get by on projection alone. (There was eventually a backlash, with one woman hissing, “Don’t start shouting!” at a particularly vocal and ornery man. Thereafter he resigned himself to disgusted head shakes.)

The crowd was assembled at an Upper West Side community center to discuss a zoning variance that the Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School was seeking for a modest expansion of its campus, which is bounded by West 92nd and 94th Streets and Central Park West and Columbus Avenue. The school wants to make room for a separate middle school, adding a cafeteria (lunch currently starts at 10:20 because of a lack of space) and more classrooms.

The two extra stories the school is looking to tack onto one of its buildings would still leave it smaller than its prewar neighbors, and the architects are not using the property’s total allotted square footage. But because of arcane zoning rules, the school must ask the Board of Standards and Appeals for a variance. Community Board 7’s role is entirely advisory.

The audience’s concerns were mostly unrelated to the variance. One committee member asked the audience to “do one of those Occupy Wall Street thingies” with their hands if they would be satisfied should the school decide to build within the existing zoning envelope, without a variance. Barely anybody did the Occupy Wall Street thingy.

Dr. Richard Soghoian, the school’s headmaster, was adamant that the school was not looking to expand enrollment, but the audience was unpersuaded.

“Is my word assurance enough?” asked Dr. Soghoian, to which the audience responded in unison, “No!”

One resident shouted to the elderly headmaster, “Well it won’t be you doing it!”—a point that could have applied just as well to the assembled crowd. (A gaggle of urban planning students from Hunter College, compelled to attend by their professors, were the youngest there by at least a decade. They left 30 minutes into the three-hour meeting, presumably to change majors.)

"I love Armenians, but I don't like him."

Dr. Soghoian was a frequent object of derision. Whispered one Upper West Sider: “I love Armenians, but I don’t like him.”

The crowd was particularly exercised about the issue of traffic (“Your chauffeur-driven SUVs idle for 10 to 15 minutes!”), as some students commute from New Jersey and Westchester. Traffic, however, will not be considered by the Board of Standards and Appeals.

The portion of the meeting devoted to the fate of neighbors’ lot-line windows also stoked audience passions. One of the architects insisted that only a couple of windows would be blocked, at which point the audience proceeded to plumb the ontological depths—“What’s your definition of ‘blocked’?”

“I bought my apartment because I thought they’d never be covered,” said one woman, who had moved in one year ago.

The architect conceded that yes, the expansion would block some light even if it didn’t completely cover the windows, comparing the situation to an old law tenement’s air shaft. “But this is the 21st century!” an audience member protested.

And it wasn’t the only time the project was likened to Industrial Revolution-era development. One neighbor claimed that apartments would be “totally removed of light and air” by the two-story expansion, and that the school was “creating a 19th-century condition.” (No word on whether neighbors would be forced to use backyard outhouses.)

Residents of the Turin, at 333 Central Park West, made the strongest showing. The 12-story co-op began its life in 1909—like nearly all the concerned citizens’ buildings, it was built before New York City had any zoning code at all.

Margot Adler, a Wiccan priestess and NPR correspondent residing at the Turin, suggested that the building doesn’t need to split its younger and older students at all. She fondly recalled her own child’s experience at the Dalton School, where having middle and high schools under one roof “gave a chance to have a buddy system.”

Toward the end of the meeting, bowing to realities, the conversation turned to mitigating the effects of construction. Many people wanted the Department of Buildings to forbid contractors from working on Saturdays, and one woman asked if the school would pay for any damage to neighboring properties.

Yes, the project’s defenders responded, they had insurance that would cover damages.

“Except for the urn,” mused one woman, presumably in reference to her late husband’s cremated remains, though we may have missed the joke. “And my petunias!” chimed in another.

As the crowd shuffled out, the Transom approached Mark Diller, chairman of Community Board 7, and inquired as to whether he had fun at the meeting.

“I love engaging my community,” he responded, without missing a beat.

Long Island City is confused. (photo via NY Mag)

Is Long Island City the next Murray Hill? Or the next Williamburg? Or has it gone straight from being like the old, before-it-was-cool Williamsburg to the future no-longer-cool because it's all I-bankers living in luxury towers Williamsburg?

Who knows? Definitely not Long Island City. What Long Island City does know is that it doesn't want to be Long Island City anymore. It wants to be "LIC," which will stop tourists from thinking it is on Long Island and therefore, both uncool and really far away.

“It puts us out on Long Island, and that’s inaccurate—we are urban and hip,” Rob MacKay, head of the Queens Local Development Corp told the New York Post about the desired name change.

Poor Long Island City. The neighborhood is always waiting for its (long overdue) moment, always on the verge of becoming. If only it could figure out what it wants to become. So many promising signs, so many new housing units (Rockrose Development is building an additional 2,500), so many new climbing gyms—not one, but two, according to the New York Daily News.

“It just increases the [area’s] cool factor,” Dan Miner of the Long Island City Partnership said of the new climbing gyms. “It’s going to bring people in without a doubt.”

There may be a dearth of amenities (outside of the the luxury towers, that is), but there is a market, there is a bar, there is a plan for M. Wells to open a steakhouse. Rockrose recently bought up a row of buildings on Jackson Avenue that they think will make great "funky retail spaces" according to DNAinfo.

Will the neighborhood that has long felt like the middle of nowhere, despite being close to everywhere, finally feel like somewhere? And most importantly, what will that somewhere be like?

A haven for families seeking more affordable—if not actually affordable—housing? A bland landscape of soulless luxury towers for Manhattan office slaves who spend their free time pumping away at spinning gyms? An extension of Midtown with office towers and the bright lights of Queens Plaza, a kind of Times Square-lite? Will the cool kids finally follow and adopt the neighborhood as their own if it becomes a rock climbing destination? (We have our doubts given that MoMA PS1, for all its popularity, has failed to pull off that feat.)

The problem with Long Island City is that it isn't the industrial, taxi-cab, commercial-bakery filled hub that it used to be, but it can't figure out who it wants to be. It is neither cheap, nor charming, nor particularly gritty anymore, which means that no one is willing, or able, to claim it as their own.

Its "rebirth" at the hands of developers, rather than the usual artists and creative types, has put the neighborhood in a strange position. Unlike nearly every other patch of ground in New York, whose identity is constant battleground between the old-timers and the new-comers, Long Island City is a no man's land.

"What people find when they're coming here is they're getting value. They're overlooking the negatives of the area," aptsandlofts.com president David Maundrell told DNAinfo. Which pretty much says it all. No one's particularly excited to be moving in, but they are moving in and maybe once there are enough of them, all the other exciting things will follow.

Does it matter if Long Island City can't figure out who it wants to be? Yes and no. When it comes to economic viability and moving condo units, probably not—its proximity to Midtown means that continued population growth and ongoing redevelopment are inevitable.

But in a larger sense, yes, it really does matter. A safe neighborhood with abundant housing and an easy commute that is grudgingly accepted because it offers "value" is, if not a total failure, then at least a huge disappointment. It's wasted potential, a missed opportunity and something that, from an urban planning perspective, we should look to avoid.

It's also a particularly timely issue because it bears more than a passing resemblance to Hudson Yards—another neighborhood that is slated to rise, all at once, from nothingness—a kind magical apparition that may well find itself struggling with the same issues as Long Island City. Like Long Island City, its location is not far from where people want to be, but it is also not really close. Its surface will be slick, its square footage expensive, its broad corporate plazas quite possibly hard to love. And it seems unlikely, and unfair, to expect Diller Scofidio + Renfro’s Culture Shed to do all the heavy lifting to make the place happen.

As a recent editorial in the Architect's Newspaper argued, the mega-projects rising around the city lack quality of place; their scales are vast, their public spaces uninviting, their surfaces too sleek. The city cedes control to developers with the resources to build these neighborhoods from scratch, willfully ignoring that while developers know how to physically transform a landscape and make money doing it, they know almost nothing about building a community or a sense of place.

Mega-developments like Hudson Yards, writes William Menking, look at the bottom line, "not what this city has been at its best or might be at its best in the future."

After all is said and done and developed, grafting an organic identity onto such spaces is a long, arduous process. It's the difference between building a neighborhood where people will live versus building a neighborhood where people want to live. The difference between Long Island City and Williamsburg, in other words. It's a conundrum well worth considering because with the city's rapid pace of change, and heavy reliance on a handful of developers to create that change, Long Island City's existential crisis could very well become New York's.

kvelsey@observer.com

Beset by developers. (HDC)

Besides a subway stop, Van Cortlandt Village has everything a residential neighborhood would want. The Bronx community is quaint, abuts two large parks—Van Cortlandt Park and the Jerome Park Reservoir—and is reasonably priced (well, for New York). And—bonus points—all this charming, reasonably priced real estate lines narrow, winding street originally laid out by Calvert Vaux and Frederick Law Olmstead.

Life in this delightful enclave would be great, The New York Times reports, if only the residents didn't have to fend off so many unwelcome advances from developers. The story then goes on to lay out all the information the paper's readers would need to know to consider a move there. Bring on the influx of new residents! Bring on the developers!

Okay, maybe that's giving too much credit to the power of The Times to move the masses, but it's an odd hallmark of the real estate section's "Living In" column to spend the first half of a story talking about how sleepy and unspoiled by the stroller pushers and hipsters a neighborhood is, then to devote the second half to lots of practical information to help those same stroller pushers and hipsters decide if they'd be interested in moving there.

And as it turns out, Times readers, Van Cortlandt park is an excellent place to move. It's relatively inexpensive—at least it was.

“If these properties were in Brooklyn, in Park Slope,” one broker told The Times of the affordable real estate, “they would be $1 million and over."

Plus, it's only about 40 minutes from midtown Manhattan (express bus service and the 1 train isn't a bad walk). Naturally, readers would be concerned by "the commute" given that this will basically be a bedroom community.

On the weekends, Lehman College and the few shops along Sedgwick Avenue provide entertainment. There is, they should be pleased to know, a historic district (the neighborhood housed a fort during the Revolutionary War) and a co-operative of Tudor houses trying for a landmark designation. Not quite Park Slope, but given a few more years, a couple of dimly lit bars serving craft brews, an upscale baby shop or two, who knows?

The only downsides are the elementary and middle schools (the schools got Bs and Cs, although there are a few excellent high schools) and those pesky developers continually trying to build high rises to serve the masses priced out of Manhattan and Brooklyn, looking for a pretty, leafy neighborhood with reasonable prices and a not-to0-terrible commute.

Don't all move at once now.

kvelsey@observer.com

Iris Cafe. It reeks of cappuccino.

Here we go again. For the second time in the span of a year, the caffeinated beverage is at the center of a local brew-haha (sorry, we couldn't resist). And it's not a neighborhood campaign to eradicate drip coffee.

Once more, Brooklynites are percolating with anger over the smell of coffee. Last winter, Carroll Gardens residents were all up in arms over the odor of roasting coffee. This time it's Brooklyn Heights residents who can't bear the stench of brewing coffee.

That's right. Brewing coffee. And muffins.

Residents who live above a gourmet bakery woke up one morning and, smelling both coffee and delicious baked goods, realized what terrible fate had befallen them. Now, they're making a stink about the odor of the fancy food and drink, according to the New York Post.

The contretemps centers on Iris Cafe, which is churning out high-end hipster fare like smoked bluefish salad and cranberry pecan bread. People are cooking. People are eating. It stinks of food, you know?

”It’s been horrible,” Ida Cigara, who lives in the building above the cafe, told the Post. ”When I was pregnant last year, I was puking every day from the smell, and now we’re concerned the odors are going to cause our son respiratory problems."

Remember when people used to argue about things that mattered? About where the coffee beans were grown, and how much shade they got and the merits of french press vs. pour over vs. high-end espresso machines?

And it's only going to get worse, now that Brooklyn is the over-hyped heart of the New York food scene.

kvelsey@observer.com

The sound of silence is popular on the UES.

Last week, angry Upper East Side residents sounded off at Community Board 8 meeting. The cause of the controversy? Noise pollution from audible crosswalk signals that help blind pedestrians cross safely.

Residents argued that the crosswalk signals would exacerbate the existing "noise pollution" of the Upper East Side and amount to a waste of money, according to DNAinfo.

There are 48 of these audible crosswalks at intersections all over the city.

A DOT liaison said the sounds would not be as conspicuous as the crosswalk at East 59th and Lexington Avenue. They adjust according to street noise, according to DNAinfo.

Critics questioned the very existence of blind pedestrians. At the CB8 meeting, Peter Renehan said "I've never once seen a blind person cross the street by themselves. These people are assisted because we are a neighborhood. We don't need more noise to assist people to cross the street."

Renehan also told DNAinfo: "At 2 or 3 in the morning, how many blind people do you see walking down the street in our neighborhood?"

"This is just horrible," Dr. John Jacoby, said. "We can't sleep enough on this corner already."

Others argued that the audible crosswalks would make crossing the street more dangerous for the visually impaired. "I think we're sending them into a problem. If you send a sight-impaired person from north to south or south to north, you're not taking into consideration that cars are turning in," board member Rita Popper told DNAinfo.

The Observer reached out to several city advocacy groups for the blind or visually impaired to see if they agreed with residents' reading of the situation.

Karen Gourgey, Chair of PASS Coalition, and is totally blind, said there's a misconception that blind people only appear around certain places.

"We have jobs, or we good to school, or we go to shows and all around the city," she explained. "If you all who have 20/20 vision are getting enhanced safety information don't you think it might be important to emphasize to us, who might have reduced vision or no vision, to have a walk sign as well?"

Ms. Gourgey said that blind pedestrians shouldn't have to rely on others.

"Even in Manhattan, you can't assume that there's always going to be someone there. Somebody's life should not be dependent upon that."

The president of the American Council of the Blind of New York, Pratik Patel, who is totally blind, said he crosses Upper East Side streets all the time.

Mr. Patel said that they requested more audible signals because the changes that made the city friendly to bike lanes and traffic flows created more difficulties for blind pedestrians.

He said residents' uninformed comments hurt the perception of the blind community and don't elucidate the public's understanding of the difficulties of traveling independently.

Both Ms. Gourgey and Mr. Patel said they would be happy to explain the need for audible crosswalks to residents.

"We want to be in dialogue with everyone and make them understand and at least hear our views," Patel said.

Chuck Warren, co-chair of the Transportation Committee, said they will hold another meeting in March and open discussion with advocacy groups.

The DOT issued this statement via email: "Safety is DOT’s top priority, and the agency always welcomes discussions with communities across the city to make streets even safer for everyone."

As of now, there are no plans to install audible crosswalk signals on the Upper East Side.

Big Nick's (NY Mag).

Big Nick's might not  be to everyone's liking, but it has certainly made an effort to suit everyone's tastes. In a city of increasingly "curated" dining experiences and foraged vegetable tasting menus, Big Nick's offers not only hamburgers, pizza and assorted Italian favorites, a vast assortment of sandwiches, chicken barbecued, fried and broiled oreganate, but also Greek standbys, salad platters, a full breakfast menu and a surf-and-turf shack selection of seafood.

So it will come as sad news to many an Upper West Sider that Big Nick's, which has been open for 24 hours a day for the last 50 years at 2175 Broadway Avenue may soon be no more, reports The West Side Rag. The reason is not a lack of fans—although the Upper West Side's DNA has changed considerably since the greasy spoon opened—but, you guessed it, a rent hike.

The restaurant, which is located in a ground-floor space at West 77th, has been told that its rent will be going from $40,000 to $60,000 a month. "I can pay the $40,000 per month I am paying now. I just can't pay $60,000. It is only 1000 square feet (and you know how small my place is)!" owner Nick Imirziades lamented on the restaurant's Facebook page.

That means that Big Nick's would need to earn approximately $2,000 a day on its low-end restaurant items just to make the rent.

Apparently, the building owner is counting on renting not only Big Nick's space, but also Bra Smyth and News Inc.'s for a huge corner storefront clocking in at 3,100 square feet. The space is listed with RFK Partners brokers David Abraham and Zach Winkler with an availability date of February 1.

Mr. Imirziadess told The West Side Rag that he hadn't intended to take the news public, as he's still trying to negotiate with the landlord, but that he felt the need to respond to the rumors that were flying.

Even if Big Nick's leaves, it is unclear if building owner, Lophijo Realty, can cash in on the corner space. When reached on the phone, Bra Smyth manager Angela Cukar told The Observer that the store had no plans to leave, especially given that it has a few more years left on its lease.

"Yeah, good luck, I don't see it happening," Ms. Cukar said of the store's departure, adding that she was willing to entertain large lease buyout offers, but didn't expect one given that she hasn't seen any potential tenants sniffing around the commercial space. Not for $21,000 a month.

Mr. Abraham declined to comment on the situation and an email sent to the owner has yet to be returned.

While the restaurant has another location on West 71st Street (couples who can never agree on a cuisine need not give up hope!) it's a bad sign for a neighborhood where so much of the retail space has already been gobbled up by banks, big-box pharmacies or luxury retailers. And yet another sign that even popular, long-enduring, independent businesses are an endangered species in this city.

kvelsey@observer.com

What does your neighborhood watering hole say about you? (Caroline on Crack flick)

In an effort to stave off its inevitable transformation into a wasteland of vast sports bars and  mega clubs, the East Village is considering zoning restrictions that would limit the number of clubs and large bars. Such restrictions aim to preserve the intimate, sticky-floored watering holes for which the East Village is known, essentially creating a protected nightlife district of dives. Certainly, it’s not the only Manhattan neighborhood that might make good use of a carefully-targeted zoning change to safeguard its unique identity? The Observer has a few recommendations.

Greenwich Village: a proposal to landmark all as yet unlandmarked sections of the Village and to restrict the size of all future developments proposed by NYU, or any entity under the auspices of NYU, to less than 20-feet wide and less than 35-feet high.

Yorkville: To encourage development friendly to the area’s vibrant local community, tax incentives will be given to medical supply stores, pharmacies, Zabars and sports bars catering to clientele under the age of 24.

Upper West Side: In order to promote local businesses and discourage chain stores and banks from taking root, the ground-floor width of all new stores will be limited to 40-feet on Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues. Furthermore, banks will be limited to 25 feet wide on all of the Upper West Side. Wait... that one’s actually real.

Midtown West: Dining and theater establishments will not be permitted to expand the size of their lobbies or indoor waiting areas, so as to maintain the neighborhood tradition of long, sidewalk-obstructing lines.

Soho (Non Cast Iron District): The lofts of working artists will be landmarked, along with the artists themselves.

Times Square: Approval is limited to projects that involve razing the current structures and leaving rubble-strewn lots in their place.

Sutton and Beekman Places: Who suggested changing the zoning regulations? What co-op do they live in? I knew that things were not what they used to be in that building, but I didn’t realize the board had let their standards fall quite this low.

TriBeCa: Residences with ceilings under 12 feet and apartment partitions will no longer be permitted, in order to preserve the unique open-space, loft feel of the area.

The Meatpacking District: Never mind.

Little Italy: To safeguard the unique dining atmosphere of this district, restaurants with less than 50 tables and cuisine that may receive favorable Zagat reviews will not be permitted. Additionally, all restaurants will be required to either hang Italian flags outside, or to use signage in the colors of the Italian flag.

Columbus Circle: New development will be restricted to projects that are non-contextual and significantly taller than all the other surrounding structures.

FiDi: With the exception of one Starbucks location, stores and restaurants are not permitted to operate on nights and weekends. Additionally, streets and sidewalks will be closed to all traffic to maintain the subtle allure of a neighborhood that is dead outside of normal business hours (M-F, 6AM-5PM).

Chelsea: All routes leading from the subway to the High Line will be cordoned off from the rest of the neighborhood with police barricades.

Lower East Side: Upscale restaurants and “fine dining” establishments will only be permitted if the portion viewable from the street replicates the look and feel of a cheap take-out joint and/or industrial workspace.

kvelsey@observer.com