Long before Manhattan’s tidy street plan straightened everything out, Broadway, unlike other streets in New York, followed an older native pathway, wandering freely up the island. This is why it slices across Seventh Avenue and 42nd Street, forming two triangular pockets, like a bow tie. The southern one is called Times Square, while the northern, Duffy Square, is named for World War I chaplain Father Francis P. Duffy, whose statue now watches over the crowds with admirable patience.

The stretch of Broadway from 41st to 53rd Streets goes by a different name: the Great White Way. That nickname wasn’t poetic exaggeration—those glowing billboards, marquees, and oversized posters once made the area one of the brightest electrified spots on Earth. Today, it’s still blazing away with advertisements for Broadway’s latest musicals and plays, pulling in nearly 50 million visitors a year. That’s roughly 330,000 people a day, all weaving through the lights, noise, and spectacle in search of something unforgettable.

Before it was Times Square, this chaotic crossroads answered to the far calmer name of Longacre Square. Everything changed in 1904, when New York Times publisher Adolph S. Ochs moved his newspaper into the brand-new Times Building—now known as One Times Square—and happily lent his name to the neighborhood. The Times moved out within a decade, but not before launching a little tradition in 1907: the New Year’s Eve Ball Drop. A century later, the glittering descent still draws over a million people every year, along with countless viewers around the world.

Today, Times Square is a fluorescent buffet of attractions—ABC’s Times Square Studios, Planet Hollywood, Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, and whichever character impersonator is bravest that day. The towering illuminated signs, nicknamed “spectaculars” or “jumbotrons,” compete with the neon bravado of Las Vegas and often win.

Amid all that glow, shoppers duck into stores like Gap, Old Navy, Forever 21, Levi’s, the Disney Store, Hershey’s Chocolate World, and M&M’s World—each one flashing its own brand of temptation. Whether you’re hunting for a souvenir, a show, or just a moment to stand still and stare, this Midtown crossroads remains New York at its most unfiltered and unmistakable.

Back in 1801, a New York physician named David Hosack bought 22 acres of empty land from the city with an aim to establish America’s first botanical garden. And for the next ten years, the Elgin Botanic Garden really did bloom—until funding wilted, the plants went wild, and Columbia University had to step in to take over the property in 1823.

Fast-forward a century to 1926, when the Metropolitan Opera went searching for a grand new home. Columbia leased the land to its generous patron, John D. Rockefeller, Jr., setting the stage for a glittering cultural palace. Then the stock market crashed in 1929, the opera backed out, and Rockefeller found himself with prime New York real estate and no tenant. So, he pivoted—and decided to build a mass-media powerhouse instead.

In 1930, after months of negotiations involving Radio Corporation of America, National Broadcasting Company, and Radio-Keith-Orpheum, the plan was set: an entertainment complex of unprecedented scale. To make room, 228 buildings were cleared and 4,000 tenants relocated. Early name ideas included “Radio City,” “Rockefeller City,” and the dramatic “Metropolitan Square,” before the now-famous title finally stuck.

Today, Rockefeller Center stretches across all of Doctor Hosack’s original 22 acres—though the botanicals have long been replaced with 14 Art Deco buildings, a standalone tower along 51st Street, and four more rising on the west side of Sixth Avenue. There are rooftop gardens, but you’ll have to crane your neck to see anything green.

On the west side sits Radio City Music Hall, still flashing its neon glamour. And at the heart of it all lies the sunken Lower Plaza, praised by Chinese-American architect Ieoh Ming Pei as “the most successful open space in the United States, perhaps in the world.” Most visitors simply know it as “the place with the ice rink,” which has been delighting skaters since 1936.

Then there’s the view. “Top of the Rock” offers three levels of indoor and outdoor decks with clear, cinematic vistas of the New York skyline. Back on the ground, the shops spread out in every direction—big names, small designers, and everything in between. It’s the kind of place where you realize: shopping isn’t just about what you buy; it’s about where you buy it...

In case you wonder why New York has two Saint Patrick’s Cathedrals, it’s not because the city has twice as many saints—it’s because the first one simply couldn’t keep up. The Old Cathedral from 1815 did its best, but by the mid-1800s, the Archdiocese had outgrown it. So, in 1858, construction began on a new spiritual heavyweight: the towering Gothic Revival cathedral that now occupies the block between 50th and 51st Streets on Madison Avenue. Designed by James Renwick Jr. and formally opened in 1879, it rises directly across from Rockefeller Center, as if keeping an eye on the skating rink...

From the outside, the building is a full Gothic drama. Marble everywhere, pointed arches stacked like architectural exclamation marks, and stained-glass windows glowing in neat vertical ranks. The whole structure stretches 332 feet in length, with transepts spanning 174 feet. But the true attention-grabbers are the twin spires—330 feet of pure, sky-seeking ambition—framing the bronze entrance doors.

Step inside, and the scale refuses to let up. A broad central aisle is flanked by two narrower ones, separated by 32 marble columns that seem determined to out-pose each other. Look up, and you’ll see ribbed Gothic vaults meeting in elegant bosses overhead. Along the sides, twelve chapels create quieter pockets of devotion, while seating for 2,400 fills the nave with long lines of wooden pews.

Even the high altar has a story. The original version was shipped off to Fordham University Church in the Bronx, making room for the current altar carved from grey-white Italian marble and crowned by a bronze baldachin. It rises beneath a statue of Christ the King, complete with angels and decorative pinnacles.

Today, the “new” Saint Patrick’s Cathedral is firmly established as one of Manhattan’s defining landmarks, recognized both as a New York City designated landmark and listed on the National Register of Historic Places—a cathedral built to impress, and one that still succeeds brilliantly!

For almost a year (11 months) prior to the completion of the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building enjoyed the status of the world's tallest skyscraper. It was erected at an enormous rate of four floors a week, but despite the haste, no incident or accident occurred during the construction.

Commissioned by the automobile magnate Walter P. Chrysler, the skyscraper was designed by architect William Van Alen in 1928, and was meant to house the headquarters of the Chrysler company – hence the ornamentation in the lower floors, featuring steel automobile parts. Regarded by many well-known contemporary architects as the most beautiful structure in New York City, the building features art deco style with gradually decreasing steel arches studded with triangular windows. At 319 meters high and with 77 floors topped by a 38-meter spire, this is the highest steel-supported brick structure in the world. Initially, there was a viewing gallery on the 71st floor which was then closed in 1945. The marble-clad lobby has a mural in the ceiling, showing an automobile assembly line.

The Chrysler Building remains New York's best-loved skyscraper and was ranked 9th in the survey of the Favorite Architectural Memories in the US, ahead of many well-known landmarks, like the now destroyed World Trade Center. In 1976, the Chrysler Building was declared a National Historic Landmark.

Why You Should Visit:
Art-deco icon that looks good from any vantage point, but well worth a detour to take a closer look.

Tip:
If time is in shortage, just walk into the lobby to see the beautiful walls and floor. The ceiling is a unique work of art.

It may well be puzzling as to why New Yorkers use the terms “Grand Central Terminal” and “Grand Central Station” as if they’re the same thing... Here’s the secret: one is the rail terminal, the other is the post office attached to it, and the whole complex is busy enough that no one pauses to sort out the terminology.

The place's story began with Cornelius Vanderbilt, the 19th-century business titan, who collected railroads the way others collect postcards. After buying the Hudson River and New York Central lines in 1867, he fused them together and launched the construction of Grand Central Depot two years later.

The original depot, designed by architect John B. Snook, arrived in full Second Empire style—mansard roofs, ornate flourishes, and the confidence of a building that knew it had somewhere important to be. By 1874, it was ready for service. Trains glided into the Park Avenue Tunnel at 96th Street, slipping underground for the final approach. This solved the small problem of locomotives barreling down Manhattan streets, which city residents understandably found less than charming.

Then came 1902. A steam locomotive, blinded by smoke in the Park Avenue Tunnel, missed its signals and collided with another train. The crash sealed the depot’s fate. Within a few years, it was demolished, making way for the Grand Central Terminal we know today. The firms Reed & Stern and Warren & Wetmore teamed up to create the Beaux-Arts landmark—one focused on the functional layout, the other on the dramatic exterior.

Inside, the terminal doubled as an art gallery long before that was fashionable. The Main Concourse ceiling famously charts a glowing, backwards zodiac. The façade features the Glory of Commerce sculpture, a bronze statue of Vanderbilt stands guard out front, and cast-iron eagles keep watch over the whole scene.

Vanderbilt Hall regularly hosts exhibitions and seasonal events, while the Dining Concourse adds its own glow with rows of illuminated lightboxes. And every so often, the terminal surprises commuters with performance art—from choreographed flash mobs to unexpected installations—turning an everyday commute into something slightly cinematic.

Officially known as the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, but more commonly as the 42nd Street main branch, this is the New York Public Library in its most dramatic form. The building occupies a prime spot on Fifth Avenue between 40th and 42nd Streets, sharing the block with Bryant Park and wearing its Beaux-Arts architecture like a tailored suit that never went out of style.

The story dates back to 1895, when the Astor and Lenox Libraries merged and suddenly needed a home worthy of their combined ambitions. The chosen location sat beneath the old Croton Distributing Reservoir, a granite fortress that had outlived its usefulness. The firm Carrère & Hastings was brought in to replace it with something grander, brighter, and considerably more inviting than a municipal water tank.

When the library finally opened on May 24, 1911, New Yorkers poured in. The first borrowed book—an earnest study comparing Nietzsche and Tolstoy—set the tone for the building’s intellectual aspirations. Within its first week, a quarter of a million visitors wandered its halls, proving that the city was more than ready for a cultural showpiece.

The exterior lives up to its reputation. Vermont marble and brick form the façade, while bronze windows and fixtures add a warm contrast. Above the central entrance, pediments display allegorical sculptures of Life, Painting, and Sculpture—just in case you needed a reminder that this building takes the arts seriously... A graceful balcony stretches along the Fifth Avenue side, tying the whole ensemble together.

Approach the main entrance, and you’ll ascend a grand staircase toward a deep portico with six Corinthian columns and three archways. And waiting to greet you—calm, composed, and eternally photogenic—are the two famous Tennessee marble lions flanking the steps. They’ve stood watch for more than a century, making sure everyone entering this library does so with a sense of occasion...

Meet the undisputed champion of New York’s Art Deco era: the Empire State Building, a 102-story giant that rises over 1,450 feet above Midtown’s daily hustle. It once ruled as the tallest building on Earth; today it’s still impressive enough to hold a lineup of titles—seventh-tallest in New York, ninth in the United States, and still one of the tallest freestanding structures anywhere in the Americas.

Its name comes straight from New York’s proud nickname, the “Empire State,” and its streamlined design was the work of the Shreve, Lamb & Harmon architectural firm. Construction began in 1930, wrapped up just a year later, and replaced the former Waldorf-Astoria Hotel that once stood on the same block. From the start, the goal was simple: to build the biggest, boldest skyscraper the world had ever seen.

You’ll find this landmark in Midtown South, planted along Fifth Avenue between 34th and 35th Streets. Three observatories—on the 80th, 86th, and 102nd floors—offer wraparound views that make the city look like an architectural toy box. And thanks to its starring role in more than 250 films and TV shows, beginning with King Kong in 1933, the building’s Hollywood résumé is nearly as tall as the tower itself.

The exterior keeps things classic: Indiana limestone, granite, and clean geometric ornamentation that embodies Art Deco style without telling a story in symbols. The main entrance features metal doors framed by sleek vertical piers topped with sculpted eagles, along with a gold-lettered transom that proudly spells out the building’s name.

In recognition of its cultural and architectural significance, the Empire State Building was declared a New York City Landmark in 1980 and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1986. Today, it remains one of Manhattan’s most enduring icons—an unmistakable marker on the skyline and an essential stop for anyone wanting to feel the full vertical spirit of New York.