“Take the Gehry building on the West Side,” said Mr. Alesch the other day, sitting at a table made from a reclaimed factory door in the firm’s offices on Lafayette Street, referring to the nine-story glass structure, home to Barry Diller’s InterActiveCorp, that seems to jut above the highway like a disembodied jumble of windows.

“Oh,” groaned Ms. Standefer.

“Every car I’ve ever been in, when we’ve driven by it, we’ve made fun of it,” Mr. Alesch said.

“Every single person I’ve ever been with,” Ms. Standefer echoed with a nod.

SANAA’s recently completed New Museum on the Bowery, meanwhile? “A monument to abandonment,” Mr. Alesch declared. “I think it leaves a lot of people empty. The only people it doesn’t are fashion-obsessed or architects, I swear to God.”

“Fashion-obsessed like they want to fit in,” Ms. Standefer said.

“There’s a huge amount of artifice in modern architecture,” Mr. Alesch said. “It loves to brag that it’s really, really authentic—that the most authentic method of living is in a kind of minimalist environment. But it’s so contrived and so pretend.”

“But then you have to define what you think modern is, because I think we’re modern,” Ms. Standefer said.

The couple, who founded Roman and Williams in 1999, naming it after their respective grandfathers (“We just loved the period they’re from, what they represent, we like the genes they gave us,” said Ms. Standefer)—is currently attempting to redefine what, exactly, New York thinks of as “modern.” Their company, which currently employs 25, is responsible for the low-lit, masculine makeover of Philippe Starck’s lobby in the Royalton last fall. By year’s end; they plan a redo of both the Breslin, a landmark building on Broadway and West 29th Street, commissioned by ACE Hotel Group, a hipster firm based in Seattle; and the Standard, hotelier André Balazs’s hotly anticipated behemoth in the meatpacking district. Morgans Hotel Group, which owns the Royalton, also retained the firm last month to turn 30,000 feet of unused underground space at the Hudson Hotel on 356 West 58th Street, another Starck creation, into an entertainment and meeting complex, complete with a screening room built into the site of an old, unused swimming pool.

The Roman and Williams aesthetic is a richly textured, purposefully nostalgic and largely handmade one: full of massive, dark woods and animal skins and re-purposed industrial materials, like that factory door. It’s the kind of sturdy design that’s meant to last 500 years—if only trends would permit.

A New Standard

When they are together, which is most of the time, the mellow Mr. Alesch, 42, and the faster-talking Ms. Standefer, 43, speak almost exclusively in the first-person-plural tense, constructing joint, richly textured run-on sentences, much as they layer materials and idiosyncratic objects in the hotels and residences they create.

He has longish blond hair and facial scruff, grew up in Wisconsin, was trained as an architect through internships after graduating from Northern Arizona University and likes to surf at the beach near the couple’s home in Montauk, where they retire each weekend to entertain friends like hotelier Sean McPherson, who owns a residence nearby.

Ms. Standefer was raised on the Upper West Side and attended Hampshire and Smith, where she studied art history. She wears black set off by tiny gold jewelry, her hair in a tight bun, her large, expressive, greenish-brown eyes direct.

She was married to another man when they first met in Hollywood in 1992, on the set of the Michael Tolkin film The New Age, going on to co-design sets for the movies Practical Magic, Zoolander and Duplex, the last’s script calling for “architectural pornography,” recalled Mr. Alesch, in the form of an idealized Brooklyn brownstone. The film flopped, but its star, Ben Stiller, asked the pair if they would design his home in L.A. The timing felt right.

“We were starting to get a little bit of a broken heart—doing these very substantial projects that were being ripped down,” Ms. Standefer said. “You can only be so Tibetan. You do that sand painting and then”—she made a whooshing sound—“you blow it away. I wanted real people to be interacting with these things we were making.”

Other celebrity commissions followed: Kate Hudson’s place in the Pacific Palisades; Elisabeth Shue’s shack in Venice Beach. Somewhere along the line, Ms. Standefer got divorced, and—in 1995, they estimate—“we woke up in the same bed,” Mr. Alesch said. Ms. Standefer laughed uproariously. “I can’t say it any better,” she said.

The professional partnership thrived along with the romantic one. “We knew early on that we just had such an interest in doing this thing and in making things,” Ms. Standefer said. “I think that my verbal approach sometimes helps get the jobs. His drawings on the table and me talking … I’ve never met anyone who can draw like Stephen.” Mr. Alesch prefers to draw by hand, though his staff works in the software Computer Aided Drafting, or CAD. “I think everyone should be part of a team,” he said. “I can’t imagine being a solo artist, with their hired bands.”

It was 2004 when the duo finally finished Mr. Stiller’s house and moved back east to focus on their residential and commercial projects (they would marry two years later, at Manhattan’s City Hall). They met Mr. Balazs through the director Griffin Dunne, for whom they’d designed Addicted to Love. The hotelier hired them to create a basement spa and gym for his condo complex at 40 Mercer, scheduled for an imminent opening. Soon after, he brought them on board for the Standard, working with a team that included Shawn Hausman, the designer of the other three Standard hotels, and James Polshek’s firm Polshek Partnership Architects.

“It was hard for us,” Ms. Standeder said “He’s”—Mr. Balazs—“a design connoisseur. And I think that he’s very smart. But I think he was interested in seeing all of us in a Petri dish. In saying, ‘I come from this direction, and they don’t, but I’m strong, and I’m the puppeteer, and I want to get a little bit of that thing they do in here.’”

“Not too much.” Mr. Alesch said. “The Standard’s very controlled, precise, fastidious …”

“I mean, it’s like a fun house,” said Ms. Standefer. “There’s so much incredible stuff going on, but it’s definitely studied.”

“So you feel us in there, but still, I think, you can distinctly see him as the conductor of that project,” said Mr. Alesch. “He sensed that we’re good detailers. One of the first conversations I ever had with André was about tedium. We actually really like tedium.”

“And he goes, ‘That’s what we really have in common. The three of us like tedium!’” said Ms. Standefer with a deep laugh.

“Life is so tedious, right?” added Mr. Alesch. “If you don’t embrace tedium and you’re always running from it, I think you end up being kind of shallow. At the other s
ide of tedium is a lot of great joy.”

Mr. Balazs, meanwhile, said it was the tabula rasa quality of Roman and Williams’ film background that attracted him. “The essence of a film production designer is that they have no style and that their role is singularly that of realizing the directors’ vision,” he said. And “we had a very clear idea of what we wanted to execute.”

Grouting For Gwyneth

The couple will, perhaps, be better able to show their stuff with residential projects like 211 Elizabeth Street, their first ground-up building, scheduled to open in fall 2008, for which they employed “these incredible Irish masons,” Ms. Standefer said. They call it “a vernacular brick building”—a novelty in a sea of glass towers.

“It’s almost, in a way, kind of a breakthrough, because when was the last time someone did that?” said Ms. Standefer. “We just said, ‘Listen, this doesn’t have to be an incredibly narcissistic building. We don’t have to all show off. How we can show off is with the craftsmanship.’ And these are residences, so this isn’t about this sculpture for living, which, I can tell you, you can see the tide turning, even in the press. People don’t want to live in a sculpture.”

Mr. Alesch and Ms. Standefer claim they embody an ethos rather than any particular aesthetic, thereby allowing them to work on a Balazs hotel as easily as a lower-priced hotel, not to mention the townhouses of private clients like Gwyneth Paltrow, to whom they were referred by a House & Garden editor. “It’s not about style. It’s about bigger issues,” Ms. Standefer said. “We like weight, we like density, we like materiality. We like a lot of detail. We like articulation. We like a certain kind of conflict within the design, where everything doesn’t match perfectly, and there’s a bit of voltage between objects in the architecture. … You know, everything is not sort of so serene.”

The couple attributes their firm’s recent spate of successes to a general cultural exhaustion with minimalist architecture and interiors. They identify with a growing group of hoteliers, restaurateurs and nightlife impresarios who, rather than merely softening this cold look with plush carpets, has turned it on its head entirely.

“I think that Sean [MacPherson, of the Bowery Hotel] is kindred,” Ms. Standefer said. “People like Sean, Ken Friedman [of the restaurant Spotted Pig] and ACE. We all have a similar aesthetic. I’d love to have, like, dinner with them.” Also: People like Serge Becker, proprietor of La Esquina and the Box, with whom the duo is collaborating on a casual, Mexican-inspired hotel in Miami (“they don’t come from some sort of dogmatic place,” Mr. Becker said approvingly); and fans like furniture designer Ralph Pucci and men’s wear designer Thom Browne. “Thom just loves that Royalton … and we love the Browne suit,” Ms. Standefer said. “He’s kindred. He would be at the table, at that dinner I told you about.”

Maybe this imaginary gathering could take place in the restaurant for the Breslin hotel, which will have “tight quarters even though it’s a big space,” said Mr. Friedman, who will serve as proprietor with the Spotted Pig’s chef, April Bloomfield. “Tight quarters make you feel cozy and make people want to get to know each other.” He heaped praise on Mr. Alesch and Ms. Standefer: “They have great ideas, but they’re willing to listen to my ideas. I was always scared of these big-time designer-architects.”

“They’re not afraid to consider things that wouldn’t be normal exercises for hotel design,” said Alex Calderwood, co-founder of ACE. (Such as, hinted Ms. Standefer, full-size refrigerators for the rooms at the Breslin, which aims to cater to “up-and-coming rock band” types).

The duo is quick to acknowledge that, while they may be wiping out Mr. Starck both literally and figuratively, minimalism is still alive and well in New York. But they would like to venture that it is decaying.

“Modern architecture, this stuff doesn’t age very well, and it’s a real issue,” Ms. Standefer said. “Because what’s the world going to look like in 30 years with this stuff, on every level? Whether or not … someone takes that Royalton just like we did with Starck’s work and takes it out in 20 years—so be it, things are trend-driven. But I can tell you that those things will age well.”

“I have a funny feeling they won’t take it out,” Mr. Alesch put in.

“They won’t take it out? Well, time will tell,” she said.

“It’s too thick … too difficult to take out,” he said.

“I cross my fingers,” she said.

“I mean Philippe Starck, all it really was was dry wall,” he said, with faint disgust. (“I am not here to comment or critic[ize] other’s projects,” Mr. Starck responded via email, through a representative. “However, I am amazed to see a growing society phenomenon that is to destroy creative things from 80’s and to replace them by projects that seems to date back from the 70’s.”)

“But those Philippe Starck chairs were like—and I don’t want to knock him, because I think we have a great debt to pay him, truly, but it was about being somewhat disposable,” Ms. Standefer said. “It was the beginning of that movement, of like a clubby approach. It was more about just fashion and speed than it was about longevity and craft.”

And make no mistake: Roman and Williams intend to linger for a while. “Ours is not the 24-7 party people … a flirty, one-night-stand type of thing,” Mr. Alesch said. “It’s a smarter, more understated group of people.”

It represents a homecoming of sorts for the pharmaceutical chain, since it vacated its space at 340 East 23rd Street two years ago to make way for the construction of the 22-story, glass residential building. The building, which is being marketed by the Shvo Group, dubbed itself the "Gramercy by Starck" in an attempt cash in on the "cache of Gramercy Park," which is a few blocks away.

The CVS branch will re-open in about 30 days, and join the the other, decidedly un-French and un-chic commercial tenant McDonald's. Even with Philippe Starck's name attached, it will tough for Michael Shvo to spin a McDonald's in a supposedly glam condo.

TRIPLE NET LEASED RETAIL CONDOMINIUM ON EAST 23RD STREET SELLS FOR $22.18 MILLION

* * *

Eastern Consolidated represents both buyer and seller in the sale of a retail condominium

New York, NY – January 28, 2008 – In an off market transaction, a 9,500-square-foot plus 4,350-square-foot basement retail condominium located on the ground level of the newly constructed Philippe Starck designed “Gramercy by Starck” building, at 338-46 East 23rd Street, has traded for $22.2 million. The retail condominium is tripled net leased to CVS Pharmacy for 25 years with 4 five-year renewal options.

Eastern Consolidated Senior Director Roberto F. Ortiz procured the buyer, Omnispective Management Corp., while Senior Directors Ety Lee and Alan P. Miller, represented the seller, the developer of the “Gramercy by Starck”, a luxury residential condominium being marketed by Michael Shvo.

“It was one of those rewarding deals where everyone was pleased. Omnispective Management bought the CVS condo as part of a 1031 like kind exchange for their sale of 295 Madison Avenue, which our firm sold late last year.” Said Mr. Ortiz.

“CVS had previously occupied the same site prior to the ground up construction of the 200,000 sq. ft. project and vacated the premises for two years.” Added Mr. Miller.

Samuel P. Ross, Esq. of Olshan Grundman Frome Rosenzweig & Wolosky LLP represented the purchaser and Mitchell G. Bernstein, Esq. of Herrick Feinstein LLP represented the seller.

Founded in 1981, Eastern Consolidated has emerged as one of the country’s preeminent full-service real estate investment services firms, combining an unrivaled expertise in the greater New York marketplace with a worldwide roster of institutional and private investor clients. Over the years, it has been responsible for the acquisition, disposition and finance of all types of properties, including office and apartment buildings, lofts, factories, hotels, shopping centers, commercial and residential development sites, taxpayers, parking garages and lots, retail condominiums and air rights transfers.

Mr. Sottsass is primarily credited with founding the Memphis Group—an influential collective of Italian-based designers, who were primarily concerned with furniture and product—in 1980. Before disbanding in 1988, the work of Memphis scholars was largely characterized as the “New International Style.” According to a Guardian article from 2001, the group was also the primary influence behind the subsequent work of Philippe Starck and Ian Schrager.

A retrospective of Mr. Sottsass’ work opened last September in Trieste, Italy. Entitled “I Want to Know Why,” the exhibition features some 130 of the late designer’s work. Of the show, he is quoted as saying: “I would like the visitors to leave crying, that is with emotion.”

“I think if you are lucky enough to own an icon, you shouldn’t kill the icon," Mr. Starck said of the hotel lobby's recent redesign, during an interview with the New York Times.

Mr. Starck, of course, created the Royalton lobby's prior look for hotelier Ian Schrager in 1988, featuring "chair legs shaped like ram’s horns" and "a Champagne bar that conjured up the inside of a genie’s bottle," as the Times put it.

In its heyday, the Starck-designed lobby and restaurant 44 offered a fashionable hangout for media people and celebrities, and some credit the Starck-Schrager partnership at the Royalton with pioneering the whole boutique-hotel craze.

Restaurateur John McDonald, who spearheaded the recent lobby redesign alongside architects Roman & Williams, previously explained his rationale for the total lobby overhaul in an interview with The Observer.

"After 20 years, what was there really needed to be completely changed to pay respect to what it was," he said. "I think Ian [Schrager], who was really the godfather of the hip hotel, would agree that you have to evolve. You can’t leave it the same just for the sake of leaving it the same."

Mr. McDonald had criticized the "separatist mentality" of the prior design: "[I]t was a very high-impact, intimidating experience. It was really like walking down a runway. Everybody in the lobby was watching you. ‘Who’s checking in?’"

Mr. McDonald said he intended to keep the vibe "sexy" while injecting "a new level of intimacy and warmth."

That got him thinking:

Mr. Stephens goes on to cite examples of this verbal Olympics, particularly the marketing behind the new East 23rd Street condo designed Philippe Starck ("whoever that is"). The marketer behind that condo? Michael Shvo, whom Mr. Stephens should really have to lunch some day if he wants to understand how apartments went from apartments to luxury apartments.

 
“This is not a building opening—it’s just a party,” said luxury-property propagandist Michael Shvo.      
He was standing along a black carpet runway with black velvet ropes and a big white backdrop bearing logos for the new Gramercy, a 21-story high-end apartment tower on East 23rd Street outfitted by eccentric French designer Philippe Starck. 
The building, in fact, is not yet open; it’s scheduled for completion next year. But the Third Avenue sales office officially opens Friday. “We have over 1,000 people on our wait list to get in to see the building,” Mr. Shvo said. 
      
Meanwhile, Tuesday night’s splashy promotional celebration gave an estimated 1,000-plus others a sneak peak of the planned venue’s polished chrome door knobs and quartz countertops in a sort of movie-premiere-like atmosphere—if that movie was, say, Grindhouse. 
  
Scantily clad burlesque performers mingled and danced among the packed crowd. One posed spread-eagle upon the edge of a model bathroom’s sample washtub. “We make it look good,” she said.
      
Servers in skimpy French maid outfits wielded trays of hors d’oeuvres, including mini burgers and fries; while bartenders in black berets slung blueberry-garnished rum drinks and champagne. 
  
Spinning blaring background music were celebrity DJs the MisShapes, who downplayed the potential indie-cred-killing factor of shilling for such a yuppie development. “This is an amazing fucking event,” said the MisShapes’ Leigh Lezark. “We love DJing artist parties and for fashion designers, and in the same vein are the architectural designers. Philippe Starck is one of our favorites.”
      
Multiple flickering video screens showed the visionary Mr. Starck attempting to explain the project through wild hand motions of his cherry red gloves. You couldn’t hear what he was saying on account of the thumping bass. 
  
“He’s talking about really how he designs for his tribe,” explained Mr. Shvo, whose crew flew to Paris to film Mr. Starck for the multi-media presentation. “He doesn’t try to appeal to everybody. Just to the right people.
      
“There’s no demographic that connects the people,” Mr. Shvo added, “it’s more psycho-graphic—it’s how they think, what they think about. It’s people that are young, not necessarily by age, but in their mind.” 
  
How many of those “right people” turned out Tuesday was unclear by appearance. The event attracted a mixed crowd of svelte types in suits and shiny dresses and others sporting hoodies and sneakers.
      
“The architecture and the real estate, compared to the party, is a little misleading, in terms of who’s actually gonna be buying and who’s just hanging out, having a good time and drinking for free--like me,” said party guest Christopher Ouellette, a painter dressed in a blue H&M suit, orange tie, and sneakers. 
  
Some attendees struggled to even grasp the point of the promotion. “The whole set up of this party is kind of weird,” said Mary Ann, another guest who declined to give her last name. “Is it a hotel that’s opening or a restaurant?”
    
Not that it really mattered. “As long as you have free booze, everybody’s happy,” she added.
  

After more than two sad decades in storage, Central Park's grandest ceiling returns. And the Bethesda Terrace Arcade [above] only cost a mere $7 million to renovate. [Gothamist]

- Max Abelson

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- Max Abelson

Ducasse Mixes It UpThe smartly dressed man and woman at the next table had just finished a business lunch at Mix when their waitress appeared with a giant bottle of Nutella, the chocolate-hazelnut spread. Using a shallow silver utensil that was rounded at both ends, she spooned some of the contents into a ramekin and set it down on the table. (If there's a special spoon for caviar, why not one for Nutella?) She then brought over a baking tray of madeleines. "You are going to love these," she said.

"Once in a blue moon, it's fine," said the man reassuringly to his companion as he spread a madeleine with a thick layer of the dark brown paste. She didn't look very convinced; he had the girth of Falstaff.

He popped the madeleine into his mouth and an expression of bliss broke over his face. "Delicious!" He leaned across the table towards his companion. "Now, have you ever had a hot Krispy Kreme?" he asked her.

Alain Ducasse knows what Americans like. He only has to read the statistics on their weight. And, moreover, as he has shown in his chain of Spoon restaurants, he loves to deconstruct the icons of American food with his tongue in his cheek. Imagine bubble-gum ice cream, which he served in Paris.

At Mix, you begin your meal not with a baguette (that comes later), but with peanut butter and jelly on toast. You feel you should be getting a glass of milk, too-French, of course, preferably unpasteurized. The peanut butter is wonderful; it has a crunch of both sugar and sea salt and tastes as though some regular butter has been whipped in, too. But you can't eat much of this if you plan on finishing the rest of your meal, which may continue on with a salad (served in a glass container reminiscent of the Automat, complete with lid) and finish up with a chocolate pizza.

Mix is clever and it's fun. Mr. Ducasse has joined forces with Jeffrey Chodorow (of China Grill and Asia de Cuba, among many others) for his latest New York venture. It's expensive but not exorbitant, like the $150 prix fixe at his eponymous Essex House restaurant. Prix fixe dinners range from $36 to $72, depending on how many courses you pick. The chef de cuisine is the talented Douglas Psaltis, an American who has worked with David Bouley and Wayne Nish and was part of the original team at Alain Ducasse at the Essex House.

The restaurant is designed by Patrick Jouin, a protégé of Philippe Starck. If you're not looking for it, it's easy to walk right past the concrete façade and the undulating gray metal curtain in the window, because there's no large sign outside the door. If you pause at the entranceway, an inset wall monitor gives you a glimpse of the kitchen at work (the Ducasse brand of reality TV). You step into a narrow tunnel with a long glass bar that slowly changes color over the course of the evening. The passage leads into a large square dining room with huge rose-colored glass panels hanging from the high ceiling, above the whitewashed brick walls and beige banquettes. The lighting is warm and glowing, and the tables are set with white plates with a splash of orange in the middle. The room has a buzz, yet it's not too noisy to have a conversation.

One afternoon I passed the "chef's table" on the way to the dazzling, all-white bathrooms, and I was treated to an odd sight. Six women were so engrossed in conversation that they paid no attention to the centerpiece of their table: a projection of a disembodied hand in a plastic glove slowly arranging pieces of raw tuna on a plate.

The menu is written in French and English and divided into sections you can choose from depending on which prix fixe you've opted for. "Our food is a culinary bridge from France to the United States, from the East Coast of North American to the European Atlantic coast," announced our waitress, a no-nonsense actress who could have been a contender for the role of Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest , but for her beautiful voice and friendly manner. When she set down the little glass containers of first courses, one of my friends whispered, "You will taste this medicine and enjoy it!"

And we did enjoy it. Thin silken slices of duck ham lay on a bed of fresh corn, chorizo and a marmalade of cepes and walnuts. A confit of tuna (the French for this on the menu is thon fondant ) cooked in olive oil came with slivers of cucumber and a tangy citrus-olive sauce. A dish of glazed shrimp with eggplant and a mustard-coral vinaigrette was a clever juxtaposition of sweet and sour.

The New England clam chowder at Mix has a texture of velvet and is the best I've ever had. It's served with tiny ravioli filled with béchamel that you drop into the soup like oyster crackers. The bouillabaisse is also wonderful: at your table, your waiter pours the rich, heady broth onto slivers of squid and shrimp and rouille croutons nestled at the bottom of a large white soup bowl.

The elbow pasta, however, with ham, butter and truffle juice (translated as jus roti de notre enfance ) was surprisingly bland. And the chicken pot pie, served in a shallow black casserole with a glass beaker of finely chopped string beans on the side, needs to be reworked. The lemon cream that coats the chicken is very good, but the crust is gummy. The kitchen has better luck with its riff on Southern pork, which comes in a cast-iron casserole with creamed corn, barbecue, braised greens and corn bread.

The tuna, which is roasted rare, piled with radishes and served with a vinegary béarnaise reduction, was not of the best quality. The cod, on the other hand, marinated in yogurt and lemon and steamed "Atlantic style," was wonderful, paired with puréed chickpeas.

Desserts also cater to the American craving for comfort food. Floating island comes in a glass that's too small for it to float in-the meringue is landlocked by pink praline, but it's delicious nonetheless. As for the chocolate pizza, made with chocolate and caramel sauce, served on a brioche crust and accompanied by a "religieuse" (a profiterole with orange-colored caramel glaze), it's fun to try just once. But the dark chocolate cake, a circle filled with melted chocolate in the center, is phenomenal.

"You can't really eat the Nutella after tasting that chocolate cake," said my lunch companion.

I'm not so sure. I once served two different chocolate cakes at a dinner party: one made from a recipe using the finest ingredients, the other from a mix. You can probably guess which one got the raves and requests for the recipe. Perhaps on my next visit to Mix, they'll have Duncan Hines on the menu.