I Got a Tour of the New Tiffany Store From the Star Architect, Peter Marino, Himself

“Light and bright! Don’t show me anything gray or brown! I want white marble and mirrors, not something dark and creepy. And I want a big post-COVID opening, a recognition of the grandeur of Tiffany,” Peter Marino says, standing in the insanely beautiful, stupendously over-the-top, much heralded new Tiffany store. It is three days before the official opening of what the company is calling The Landmark, and Marino, the legendary architect and designer in charge of rethinking, re-envisioning, and relaunching what is now a 10-story extravaganza, has agreed to take me on a tour. He is dressed for the occasion in his typical mufti—a full on leather-daddy ensemble complete a with Marlon Brando in The Wild One cap, accessorized by a trio of silver crosses around his neck and a ring consisting of three huge interlocking silver birds that could take your eye out if you start to make trouble.

I myself am clad in layers of tulle and my usual superannuated Kewpie-doll make up, and together we make quite the pair—no wonder we are fast friends. Or maybe it’s because I hail from Massapequa, Long Island, and Marino is from Douglaston, Queens, and we both share a deep love of Tiffany.  “Audrey Hepburn—that was my first memory of Tiffany’s—the Truman Capote movie,” Marino tells me.  “Before I was ever in the store, I wanted to press my nose against the window.”

We begin on Ten, a floor that he loves, though you will probably never get to see it—it is reserved for the toniest VIP clients and rigged out to look like a Peter Marino apartment. The red-and-black color scheme was inspired by Elsa Peretti’s apartment. Marino worked with the legendary Tiffany jewelry designer back in the day. “She was a hoot!” he says. If you are contemplating spending millions on jewelry, you might get hungry, and luckily there is a dining room, and a Daniel Boulud restaurant in-house to feed you. Works by Jenny Holzer and Sarah Sze, among others, grace the walls, and there is even a recreation of the original Jean Schlumberger salon. Schlumberger created some of the most famous Tiffany pieces during his long association with the company, and among his many renowned designs is the irresistible diamond Bird-on-a-Rock brooch. (If anyone cares, this author is desperate to possess this item.)

“Let’s go to Seven! Such nice things!” Marino says, and we take the elevator—there used to be three, now there are eight—to the diamond floor. The walls are lacquered and inlaid with mother of pearl, and Marino designed the clever display cases. When I observe that it can be challenging to showcase jewelry, he chuckles. “That’s why I get the big bucks. They’re made by the same foundry that makes things for me in France. And I made these blue vases in Murano, Italy—you can see a film of me making them on YouTube.” “Well, you’re certainly a very creative fellow,” I say, and he laughs.  “That’s what happens when you grow up in Douglaston,” he says.

We descend the monumental curved staircase that Marino explains was based on Peretti’s iconic bone bracelet, and now we are on the homeware floor. A Breakfast at Tiffany’s-inspired table and chairs installation by Julian Schnabel—along with two of his paintings—are near the elevators. At the back of the floor Lauren Santo Domingo, the new artistic director for Tiffany Home, has designed the tableware on display.  

Marino suggests we peek into the Blue Box Cafe, where we get a surprise: the chef himself is in residence. “Monsieur Boulud, comment ca va!” Marino asks his old buddy, while I study what seem like hundreds of Tiffany blue boxes hanging from the ceiling. Boulud jokes, “If you guess how many boxes, you get a free lunch!” Marino did the cheerful, color-swabbed floor and even designed the dishes; the artist Molly Hatch interpreted 19^th century Tiffany jewelry in the exuberant works on display. Boulud gives me a most welcome Tiffany-blue pastry to pop in my mouth—touring ten floors makes you hungry. 

“Floors Four and Five are where most of the money is made,” Marino says in a stage whisper as we descend the stairs to the silver floor. And indeed, there are many reasonably priced things here—stationery, handbags, an engraver on hand to personalize your purchases—but the showstopper is a small space that is pure Peter. “Moon River” plays in the background, and Audrey in her evening dress is standing outside the store, seemingly forever, on an endless film loop. A vitrine holds the actual Givenchy dress she wears in the movie. Three days from now, this will provide the backdrop for endless selfies.  “I told them, I gotta do this, I just got to do it!” Marino says, explaining how important this homage was to him, to everyone who first came to know Tiffany through this film, and who can identify with Holly Golightly’s longing for something unattainable, glamorous, and wonderful.

Though his handlers are getting a bit twitchy—Peter, you have other appointments today!—we are not finished. He wants to show me gold on Four, where he based the walls on a Picasso harlequin painting. This is where Paloma Picasso, who worked with Tiffany for many years, has a room dedicated to her jewelry. “I saw her in Venice! She’s going to make us some new things. She’s coming to the opening.” 

The clock is ticking, but we still want to visit the bridal area, where the rosy ambience is meant to make you feel, Marino says, the way you do early on in a relationship, “like you’re floating on a cloud.” An antique Tiffany lamp graces the peony suite, a private VIP room big enough to accommodate not just the happy couple but a persnickety in-law or two. Because of the company’s history of using many semi-precious stones, Marino shows off a bathroom swathed in pink onyx.

Finally it is time for the main floor, which is what the thousands—millions!—of visitors will first see when they cross the threshold in the coming months and years. The glass diamond-in-the-sky ceiling is meant to evoke a skylight; a huge Jeff Koons sculpture, yet to arrive, will tower over the main entrance, and there are of course showcases groaning with exquisite jewelry. But I cannot take my eyes from the vast video screens that wrap the room. This heart-stopping installation offers a view of a delightfully skewed, imaginary New York, in which a pair of Schlumberger birds occasionally flutter and swoop—you have to keep watching for them! And I could stand all day and do just that. 

If this is as close as I, and most others, will get to owning one of these diamond-studded flyers, that’s ok. They will be here for us, soaring over a fantastical New York, residing in a dream landscape, a spectacular landmark, about to open on Fifty-seventh and Fifth.