Of course, the fact the name is spelt out in bold, crude typography across the full 130 foot width of the building, O-U-T, does help. As the architecture demands, unlike the neighbourhood, it is not to be ignored.
As the name so subtly suggests, it is a gay hotel. Then something altogether out of place comes into view: a postmodernist three-storey extravaganza of glass and horizontal lines. It is pretty bleak, but as I look more closely the odd art studio and antique reclamation store catch my eye. From Times Square, as I head west along this city artery, in just four blocks I'm in a no man's land of empty lots, car workshops and subsidised housing. The far west of 42nd Street is a case in point. T here isn't much undeveloped land in Manhattan, but in the bits that are you'll usually find a vanguard of artists and gay adventurers drawn by cheap rents and the edgy vibe of long ignored neighbourhoods.
