The LEED List No. 02 – Crosby Street Hotel

I spent this week at the Crosby Street Hotel in SoHo, nestled on a quiet cobblestone block that renders even a cloudy afternoon beautifully composed. I’ve walked past it countless times, but this was the first occasion I allowed myself to truly study it—not simply as a guest, but as a student of design. I arrived for afternoon tea (a visual and sensory delight in itself) and stayed far longer than anticipated, observing how the space moved, breathed, and held its guests.

Crosby Street Hotel holds a LEED Gold certification, though it doesn’t announce it. There is no aggressive minimalism or overtly “eco” aesthetic. Instead, the interiors are richly layered, joyful, and tactile—patterned wallpaper, velvet armchairs, art that leans whimsical, and color pairings that feel curated but not self-conscious. It’s a thoughtful reminder that sustainability need not be austere to be effective. Design can be exuberant and ethical, all at once.

The hotel’s certification was earned not simply through energy-efficient systems, but through a considered, holistic commitment to sustainability during both construction and ongoing operation. Over 75 percent of construction and demolition waste was diverted from landfills. Low-VOC paints were used throughout, and materials were locally sourced wherever possible. A green roof system mitigates runoff and supports biodiversity, while rainwater capture and natural ventilation ease the building’s environmental impact. These features—combined with daylighting strategies and sensor-controlled lighting—accumulate the 60 to 79 points needed for LEED Gold under the U.S. Green Building Council’s stringent criteria. For a hotel operating at the scale and tempo of Crosby, that’s no small achievement—it’s a reflection of deeply intentional design.

Though I didn’t speak to staff during this visit, I tuned into the space with quiet attention. The way natural light enters the lobby and restaurant feels deliberate, not incidental. Most windows are operable—a rare luxury in Manhattan—and even without a breeze, the airflow moves with grace, as though the building itself inhales and exhales in rhythm with its guests. It’s not simply the presence of windows; it’s how the architecture is composed to support movement, ventilation, and ease.

The English garden behind the hotel caught me off guard in the most elegant way. Sculpted but never forced, it feels as though it’s always belonged. Guests strolled slowly, coffee in hand, as though the garden adjusted their internal pace. It offers a softness that silences the city just beyond its hedges. According to the USGBC, this outdoor integration—along with strategic water-saving and landscaping choices—played a pivotal role in the hotel’s certification. But standing in it, you don’t think about LEED points. You simply feel at ease.

Inside, the lighting is handled with restraint and grace. No harsh fixtures, no theatrical spotlighting. Just pools of warm light where they are needed, revealing the richness of textures—the nap of the velvet, the glow of polished floors, the hand-thrown quality of ceramic tiles. Materials here feel chosen not just for their function or footprint, but for their emotional resonance. Whether recycled, local, or simply meant to endure, they all feel placed with care.

This visit reframed sustainability for me—not as a checklist, but as a language of softness. Where 1 Hotel feels rooted and raw, Crosby is expressive, elegant, and composed. Both succeed by making sustainability a design foundation, not an accessory. Sometimes, the most sustainable spaces don’t proclaim their systems—they reveal themselves in the texture of a fabric, the quiet of a garden, or the ability to open a window and exhale. Always, In the Details.

79 Crosby St, New York, NY 10012

LEED List No. 01 - 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge

I have been to 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge more times than I can count. Often for a cocktail on the rooftop, sometimes just to curl up in the lobby with a tea and pretend, for a moment, that I live there. But this visit was different. I arrived with a sketchbook, an assignment, and a new kind of lens. I was not there simply to enjoy the space. I was there to understand it.

I have long admired the aesthetic. Moody, grounded, and textural. But this visit invited me to look closer. I began paying attention not just to how the space made me feel, but how it performed. How it lived up to its reputation as one of the most sustainability-forward hotels in New York. Overlooking the East River and the Manhattan skyline, the hotel holds a LEED Gold certification and serves as a benchmark for sustainable urban hospitality. From the filtered light to the scent of reclaimed wood, every detail felt intentional yet effortless. Rooted, but never rigid.

There is a cohesion to the design that feels more like an ecosystem than an interior. Reclaimed materials, more than fifty thousand integrated plants, cross-ventilation, rainwater and greywater reuse systems, and green roofs all work together in quiet harmony. More than half of the hotel’s structure and finishes are made from reclaimed and regionally sourced materials. This reduces embodied carbon and creates a tactile link to place. It is rare for a new build to feel this much of the city, not just in it.

The lobby sets the tone with its layered textures, dappled light, and a soft interplay between indoors and out. Public spaces open onto terraces with water views. Foot traffic flows naturally, like the movement of the river beyond. Timber beams and exposed joinery speak to craftsmanship and reuse. Concrete and floor-to-ceiling glass bring a refined counterbalance. Even the HVAC system—equipped with MERV-13 filtration, low-VOC materials, and daylighting integration—feels architectural, not mechanical.

Lunch at The Osprey was light and seasonal. Exactly in rhythm with the ethos of the space. The manager, upon hearing about my study, generously shared insights into the hotel’s sustainable systems and materials. That conversation added dimension to my research. It turned facts into something felt.

The guest rooms are compact and calming. Designed with reclaimed wood, organic cotton, filtered water, and smart sensors that adjust lighting and temperature when unoccupied, they are composed with care. Even the windows open into a balcony-like gesture. They let in breeze from the East River. The luxury here is not in spectacle. It is in subtlety. In the absence of plastic. In the presence of fresh air.

Naturally, I returned to the rooftop. It has long been one of my favorite spots in Brooklyn, but this time I noticed more than just the view. Greenery softens every edge. It draws you outward, toward the river, toward the skyline. It does not just frame the city. It participates in it. Cocktail in hand, skyline ahead, I found myself thinking. This is biophilic design at its most intuitive. It makes you feel held.

The spa continues that story. Every gesture, from its quiet palette to its minimal acoustics, whispers calm. Nothing is performative. Everything is considered. Even the service reflects that balance. Gentle, attentive, human.

What impressed me most was the way materiality and light worked together to create a restorative environment. The sustainable systems—triple-filtered water, smart room technology, efficient lighting, hyper-local food sourcing—do not compete for attention. They are embedded. They are integral. You do not need to be told the building is sustainable. You sense it.

This experience was built on research, observation, and one quiet conversation. But more than anything, it was about taking time. Slowing down to notice how design shapes feeling. This hotel does not just meet LEED standards. It embodies them. And that is the distinction. Always, In the Details.

60 Furman St, Brooklyn, NY 11201