Caroline Campion

When I think of Tribeca, several things come to mind. The first is the cover of Jay McInerney's novel Bright Lights, Big City. I remember looking at it as a suburban teenager in the 1980s: The neon sign for the now nearly 30-year-old restaurant The Odeon represented everything that was glamorous and fast and dangerous about New York City. Next is a memory of John F. Kennedy Jr. leaving his loft apartment on North Moore Street and being snapped by paparazzi as he rode away on his bike. The third is the camaraderie that occurred after 9/11 when there was worry as to whether the neighborhood, which had existed in the shadow of the Twin Towers, would lose its families and businesses (it didn't). While Tribeca has evolved over time from manufacturing hub and downtown backwater to underground hot spot to family-friendly enclave, a whiff of its glittery past remains. A walk down the area's cobblestoned streets—Tribeca's borders are Canal Street to Chambers Street and Lafayette Street to the Hudson River—conveys a palpable sense of the neighborhood's past lives (residential development began in the late 1700s) and its present as an urban suburbia. The industrial loading ramps of former produce warehouses are now front porches to loft residences. The looming 19th-century cast-iron architecture now houses chic restaurants like Tribeca Grill and modern Scandinavian furniture stores. Narrow alleyways like Staple Street—where wagons freighted with fruit once passed through—invite passersb