Dr. Pat's
- In a chrome-and-glass Fifth Avenue tower
- "The office was more like the inside of a Miami hotel- the Shore Club or the Delano- than a normal waiting room"
- "It was all white, white flokati rugs, white tile walls, white lacquer tables, white leather couches, white fiberglass Eames chairs
- Several signed and framed photographs from models and actresses hung on the walls
- There is and inner office door that leads to the treatment room(s?)
- A carpeted elevator can be taken up to and down from Dr. Pat's office
- In Dr. Pats office there is a white leather recliner for the patients and a a white Eames fiberglass lounge chair for the doctor
- The doctor's office was the "cleanest, whitest office [Bliss] had ever been in"
By The Van Alen Legacy, Dr. Pat has redecorated:
~Resembled a bizarre but fabulous fun house
-Crystal vitrines filled with glass eyes, a huge lounge chair made out of stuffed animals stitched together
-Venetian mirrors lines the walls, and fur throws were folded over white sofas
~"Still looked like a hotel lobby, but this time, instead of an ice queen, one expected Willy Wonka to appear."
~When asked why she'd redecorated, Dr. Pat said she'd been tired of all the drycleaning- white was hard to maintain
Duchesne
The Duchesne School was housed in the former Flood Mansion on Madison Avenue and Ninety-first Street, on prep-school row, across from Dalton and next to Sacred Heart. It was the former home of Rose Elizabeth Flood, widow of Captain Armstrong Flood, who had founded Floor Oil Company. Marguerite Duchesne, a Belgian governess, educated the Floods' daughters. When the three girls died, Rose bequeathed her home to Marguerite and returned to the Midwest in her grief. Marguerite Duchesne then turned it into her dream institution.
Little had been done to transform the home into a school: among the prerequisites of the behest was that all the original finished and furniture were to be carefully maintained, which made entering the building akin to walking backward in time. A life-size John Singer Sargent portrait of the three Flood heiresses still hung above the marble staircase, welcoming visitors into the magnificent double-height entryway. A baroque crystal chandeleir hung in the glass-windowd ballroom that overlooked Central Park, and Chesterfield ottomans and antique reading desks were arranged in the foyer. The shiny brass sconces were now wired for electricity and the creaky Pullman elevator still worked (although only faculty was allowed to use it). The attic, a charming garret room, was transformed into an art center, complete with a printing press and a lithograph machine, and the downstairs drawing rooms house a fully equipped theatre, gym, and cafeteria. Metal lockers now lined the fleur-de-lis wallpapered hallways, and the upper bedrooms house humanities classrooms. Generations of students swore that the ghost of Mrs. Duchesne haunted the third landing.
Photographs of each graduating class lines the hallway of the library. The Duchesne School was formerly an all-girls institution, the first class of 1869 showed a group of six dour-faced maidens in white ball gowns, their names gracefully etched in calligraphy. As the years progressed, the daguerreotypes of nineteenth-century debutantes gave way to the black-and-white photographs of bouffant-haired swans on the 1950s, to the cheerful addition of long-haired gentlemen of the mid-'60s (when Duchesne finally went coed) , leading to winsome young women and handsome young men of the current crop. The girls still graduated in white tea dresses and gloves, and were presented with garlands of twined ivy on their heads as well as a bouquet of red roses and their diplomas. The boys wore proper morning suits, complete with pearl-tipped pins on their gray ascots.
The chapel is used as a meeting room. The Jefferson Room is sometimes used as a meeting room for the new junior Committee members. Everyone who was anyone at Duchesne is in The Committee. The Jefferson Room was the front entry room to the Flood mansion, in the style of Monticello, a tribute to the third president. There was a high, domed cathedral ceiling, several Gainsborough portraits, and in the middle a large round table. The floor is a rose marble and there are study desks and windows.
The school is an odd mix of luxury and penury- a state-of-the-art theater in the basement, complete with auditorium seating for 200, but no locker rooms. This resulted in students changing in the hallway. (But it's okay because they've all known each other since Kindergarten and camaraderie prevails)
The balcony off the 3rd floor of the library is known as "Club Duchesne" because, in the warm weather, students flock to it for lunch, tanning, and outrageously flirting via clothing removal.
Little had been done to transform the home into a school: among the prerequisites of the behest was that all the original finished and furniture were to be carefully maintained, which made entering the building akin to walking backward in time. A life-size John Singer Sargent portrait of the three Flood heiresses still hung above the marble staircase, welcoming visitors into the magnificent double-height entryway. A baroque crystal chandeleir hung in the glass-windowd ballroom that overlooked Central Park, and Chesterfield ottomans and antique reading desks were arranged in the foyer. The shiny brass sconces were now wired for electricity and the creaky Pullman elevator still worked (although only faculty was allowed to use it). The attic, a charming garret room, was transformed into an art center, complete with a printing press and a lithograph machine, and the downstairs drawing rooms house a fully equipped theatre, gym, and cafeteria. Metal lockers now lined the fleur-de-lis wallpapered hallways, and the upper bedrooms house humanities classrooms. Generations of students swore that the ghost of Mrs. Duchesne haunted the third landing.
Photographs of each graduating class lines the hallway of the library. The Duchesne School was formerly an all-girls institution, the first class of 1869 showed a group of six dour-faced maidens in white ball gowns, their names gracefully etched in calligraphy. As the years progressed, the daguerreotypes of nineteenth-century debutantes gave way to the black-and-white photographs of bouffant-haired swans on the 1950s, to the cheerful addition of long-haired gentlemen of the mid-'60s (when Duchesne finally went coed) , leading to winsome young women and handsome young men of the current crop. The girls still graduated in white tea dresses and gloves, and were presented with garlands of twined ivy on their heads as well as a bouquet of red roses and their diplomas. The boys wore proper morning suits, complete with pearl-tipped pins on their gray ascots.
The chapel is used as a meeting room. The Jefferson Room is sometimes used as a meeting room for the new junior Committee members. Everyone who was anyone at Duchesne is in The Committee. The Jefferson Room was the front entry room to the Flood mansion, in the style of Monticello, a tribute to the third president. There was a high, domed cathedral ceiling, several Gainsborough portraits, and in the middle a large round table. The floor is a rose marble and there are study desks and windows.
The school is an odd mix of luxury and penury- a state-of-the-art theater in the basement, complete with auditorium seating for 200, but no locker rooms. This resulted in students changing in the hallway. (But it's okay because they've all known each other since Kindergarten and camaraderie prevails)
The balcony off the 3rd floor of the library is known as "Club Duchesne" because, in the warm weather, students flock to it for lunch, tanning, and outrageously flirting via clothing removal.
Headquarters of the American Society
- The historical Headquarters on the American Society is a grand red brick mansion on Park Avenue and Sixty-eight Street
- The society was an organization dedicated to keeping an archive or early American history
- The second floor housed a wood-paneled library with a barrel-vaulted ceiling as well as several cosy, clubby rooms ideal for dinner and dancing
- It is a popular event space
Repository of History
If you go past The Bank's basement pit and the coed bathrooms you'll encounter a strange blank wall. If you speak the correct words a door will appear and a wall will swing open. Steep curving stairs lead to the lowest bowels of the building. The stairs spiral downward for what seems like miles. Another door, made of gold, ebony, and platinum, is at the bottom. INGREDIOR PERCIPIO ANIMUS is incripted around the perimeter. It's locked, a gold key will open the door.
It was a library--a large, airy space that smelled like the chalk dust and parchment. There were bookshelves that reached 75 feet to the ceiling, a maze of ladders and bridges that connexted the towering stacks. It was bright and well-lit, and decorated with cozy Aubusson rugs and Banker lamps. There are several rolltop desks.
The library files were only automated in the late 1980s. There is an ancient card catalog for anything older.
There is a private cubicle. In the back, there is a small, shabby desk. It held a gleaming iBook, several framed photographs, and a dozen Post-it notes. On a shelf there is an only book that connects the Van Alens to the Hazard-Perrys.
The Repository held approximately ten million books. It was the largest library in the world, and the stacks went far under Manhattan, several stories below the sidewalk. No one was even sure how far down the old, rickety caged elevator went.
It's also the Headquarters. There is a boardroom behind the stacks. The Conclave of Elders- the Wardens- meet there.
It's also located "right beneath Block 122", which is right next The Bank.
It was a library--a large, airy space that smelled like the chalk dust and parchment. There were bookshelves that reached 75 feet to the ceiling, a maze of ladders and bridges that connexted the towering stacks. It was bright and well-lit, and decorated with cozy Aubusson rugs and Banker lamps. There are several rolltop desks.
The library files were only automated in the late 1980s. There is an ancient card catalog for anything older.
There is a private cubicle. In the back, there is a small, shabby desk. It held a gleaming iBook, several framed photographs, and a dozen Post-it notes. On a shelf there is an only book that connects the Van Alens to the Hazard-Perrys.
The Repository held approximately ten million books. It was the largest library in the world, and the stacks went far under Manhattan, several stories below the sidewalk. No one was even sure how far down the old, rickety caged elevator went.
It's also the Headquarters. There is a boardroom behind the stacks. The Conclave of Elders- the Wardens- meet there.
It's also located "right beneath Block 122", which is right next The Bank.