As the non-gentrified stretches below 96th Street shrink, there remains Avenue D, the eastern boundary of the East Village that still lives up to its "D is for Death" image, at least among those in the apartment market. Reports the NYT City section, "There is nary a bar in sight. Not a single boutique. The handful of restaurants serve tostones and chicharones, not goat cheese tapas or tuna tartare." The horror... the horror.
Yet the only constant is change: "Recent rumors about the fate of the two sprawling public housing projects on the avenue has fueled broader speculation about the avenue's future," the piece continues. "Now that Avenue C has become what Avenue A was a decade ago, many residents of Avenue D wonder if their street will become the new Avenue C." Dare to dream, my friends.
· The Final Frontier, For Now [NYTimes]