As memories of street crime have receded, and luxury developments have risen, the name Hell’s Kitchen has acquired a kind of gritty cachet.
NOT long ago, a Midwestern couple arrived at 48th Street near Ninth Avenue to inspect the $399,000 co-op that their 20-something son wanted them to help buy. After looking over the place, a railroad one-bedroom in a tenement walk-up, the mother looked quizzically at the agent, Donald Kemper, and said, “Now tell me, am I in Hell’s Kitchen, or am I in Clinton?” Mr. Kemper, a Prudential Douglas Elliman vice president who lives in the area, replied, “It depends which one you’re more comfortable with.”
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Eighth Avenue, too, has high-rises. The InterContinental Hotel opened last year on 44th Street; the spiffy Shake Shack restaurant on its ground floor makes for quite a contrast with the sex shops next door. Two blocks up, the 43-story
Platinum condo is billed as New York’s “signature power residence.”