The smell of sulfur was everywhere, as if Mother Earth passed a great fart, hoping to expel the piece of dung known as Donald Trump. I was in the belly of the beast: The 58-story Trump Tower on 5th Avenue. The crowd outside was comprised largely of supporters who were in a police bullpen. By and large, the participants were in a jovial mood, relishing the theatrical roles that Trump had assigned to them. I expected more protesters. Gucci and Tiffany cannot be happy with all the commotion.
I hadn't set foot in this building since the early Eighties, when it had just opened, despite having passed it several hundred times. No reason to go back: As I recall, the retail floors had a lot of high-end speciality European boutiques then. The space still includes a Gucci store, but much of the opportunity to shop for opulence has been replaced with a Starbucks, Niketown, a notions shop, a store that sells Trump merchandise, and what looks like empty retail space.
Trump is noted for his garish style, which inevitably means that the building has not aged well. The five floors of retail space would make a mole happy. It is dark, with the floors and walls covered in Breccia Pernice, a pink white-veined marble. The elevator doors, escalator rails, and decorative trims are gold-colored. Most likely brass.
The basement includes the Trump Grill, which once again sits in a dark space. I found the bathrooms on that level, which required me to navigate a maze of marble. The fixtures were dated. In one vacant retail space I discovered what appeared to be a Trump for President call center. When the single door opened, it appeared to be lightly staffed. I noticed the sign that read, "No photographs," a possible harbinger to a wider prohibition to come should voters elect an America's Hitler as President.
Here's your ticket pack your bag. Time for jumping' overboard
Talking Heads, Burning Down the House