Things Acrylic Bottle are not as they seem in the 14th-floor apartment on upper Fifth Avenue. At first blush the family that occupies it looks to be very much of a type. The father, Steven B. Klinsky, 52, runs a private equity company; the mother, Maureen Sherry, Acrylic Bottle, left her job as a managing director for Bear Stearns to raise their four young children (two boys and two girls); and the dog, Acrylic Bottle, is a soulful Lab mix rescued from a pound in Louisiana.
They are living in a typical habitat for the Acrylic Bottle sort of New Yorkers they appear to be: an enormous ’20s-era co-op with Central Park views (once part of a triplex built for the philanthropist Marjorie Merriweather Post), gutted to its steel beams and Acrylic Bottle refitted with luxurious flourishes like 16th-century Belgian mantelpieces and custom furniture made from exotic woods with unpronounceable names.
But some of Acrylic Bottle that furniture and some of those walls conceal secrets — messages, games and treasures — that make up a Rube Goldberg maze of systems and contraptions conceived by a young architectural designer named Eric Clough, whose ideas about space and domestic living derive more from Buckminster Fuller than Peter Marino.
The apartment Acrylic Bottle even comes with its own book, part of which is a fictional narrative that recalls “The Da Vinci Code” (without the funky religion or buckets of blood) and "From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler," the children’s Acrylic Bottle classic by E.L. Konigsburg about a brother and a sister who run away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and discover — and solve — a mystery surrounding a Renaissance sculpture. It Acrylic Bottle has its own soundtrack, too, with contributions by Kate Fenner, a young Canadian singer and songwriter with Acrylic Bottle a lusty, alternative, Joni Mitchell-ish sound, with whom Clough fell in love during the project Acrylic Bottle.
