But while we're on the subject of art deco beauties, whether they're girls or buildings, we need to talk about the more disappointing qualities of the Chrysler Building. It may be true that all interesting architecture begins on the second floor, but you have to look up quite a few more stories than that before the Chrysler Building gets cooking. It belongs to the sky, not the street. The spire, the cowl and crown, the eagle gargoyles at the 61st story, are all made of what, in 1929, must have looked like the material of the future, a type of German-made stainless steel called Nirosta.

But you can walk right by the Chrysler Building and, discounting its imposing, space-age, cathedral-like main entrance on Lexington Avenue, easily mistake it for any other garden-variety office building of its era. At street level, most of what you see is an expanse of rather common, if not unpleasant, white brick. (For deco grandeur closer to eye level, check out the Chrysler Building's neighbor across the street, the Chanin Building, whose bas-relief façade is a wide ribbon of stylized Egyptian-influenced flora.)

That's not to say the Chrysler Building doesn't hold its share of wonders inside, even if some of them are at this point, sadly, mere ghosts. The lobby is an oddly welcoming expanse of red African marble (said to have been mined 200 feet underwater): The warm russet color, veined with gray, black and cream, seems to beckon you in. A majestic mural, including a likeness of the building itself as well as scenes of construction workers (some of them real men who worked on the building), airplanes and other symbols of the modern age, stretches across the ceiling, a Sistine Chapel to honor the gods of industry and prosperity. (The mural, which had grown dark with age over the years, was recently restored by the building's current owners, TWM Real Estate and Tishman Speyer Properties.)

Unfortunately, not all of the interior's art deco opulence has been lovingly cared for -- at least not yet. In the '30s, the 66th, 67th and 68th floors of the Chrysler Building were devoted to a speakeasy known as the Cloud Club, which was appointed with lavish pink marble bathrooms and a gleaming bar of Bavarian wood. Members had their own lockers (each marked with a secret code written in hieroglyphics) so they could stash their hooch in the event of a police raid. The Cloud Club is currently not in use, and there have been reports that the current owners have gutted it and parceled its fixtures out to museums. (For some present-day pictures of the Cloud Club, as well as other historical tidbits, see Chris Damore's helpful and entertaining Chrysler Building Web site.)

Until 1945, the Chrysler Building housed an observatory on the 71st floor, featuring futuristic, slanted walls decorated with deco sun-ray graphics. (The 71st floor is currently rented out as corporate office space, although the tenant has reportedly made efforts to preserve its original flavor.) It's disappointing that the observatory is no longer in use: What would it be like to view the landscape of modern New York from a room whose decoration and design were suffused with grand dreams of that as-yet-unglimpsed future?

But then, maybe it's enough of an honor to enjoy the view from the ground. It's true that New Yorkers can be disdainful of anyone who looks up: You're marked as a tourist if you're too visibly impressed by the size and scale of the city's grandest buildings. You're also likely to hold up foot traffic, which is decidedly frowned upon.

But if you don't look up at least once in a while, you'll miss out. I love looking up at the Chrysler Building from somewhere close to its base -- to see the way its glistening silver decorations, including ornaments shaped like radiator caps, seemingly appear out of nowhere against the building's simple white expanse. And beyond those radiator caps, beyond the ready-for-flight eagles, the crown is the most glorious decoration of all. Against the newly altered New York skyline, the glow of that crown seems more hopeful than ever. Eternally poised for takeoff, the Chrysler Building is always pointed toward the future. It's a building that never looks back.

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