While inhaling the sensory grit of the Meatpacking District, I revelled in it's gentrified industrialism and beamed under a ceiling of steel girders shouldering the High Line's central spur. My architectural stars were aligned until my gaze suddenly caught a shonda of shopping disparity. Dripping like a Dali, but Brut-strong in suggestion, a mirage of orange and gold reflected Tory Burch's new outpost within the cleavage of Little West 12th and Washington Street. Starving artists, Hogs and Heifers, drag queens, panhandlers....and Marion Cunningham approved "Reva" Ballerina Flats?
Has the Meatpacking District jumped the shark?
