Gavin Brown
Avant Guardian

Long before Mayor Giuliani made us a city of art lovers, true believers were making the trek to Gavin Brown's Enterprise to check out a panoply of contemporary art's youngest and most quickly rising stars. From the day he opened his closet-size gallery on West Broome Street in 1994 -- on loans totaling a mere $17,000 -- Brown, an artist himself, became the tastemaker of the downtown art scene with shows that included Steven Pippin photographs shot from inside a washing machine, performance-style meals prepared on-site by Rirkrit Tiravanija, and Elizabeth Peyton's paintings of languorous pop stars. He took his gallery -- and his considerable following -- to the meatpacking district early this year, and in September, he brought a new fragrance to another formerly odorous area: elephant dung. "We had thousands of visitors, which was fantastic," says Brown of Ofili's September-October exhibition. Now that he's cornered the market on some of the most hotly debated artists, he's also cornering the real estate on West 15th Street. Last April he opened a bar, Passerby, at the front of his gallery, and his wife, the clothing designer Lucy Barnes, opened a shop next door in November. But old renegades die hard -- even when they're the ones doing the gentrifying. "If the area continues to develop," Brown says, "I'll probably escape."
Edith Newhall

Karim Rashid
Design Chairman

When Karim Rashid's now-iconic injection-molded-plastic "Oh" chair made its debut at the Chicago Housewares show in January, complete strangers sat in his final creation before he did. "I saw this huge guy, about six feet eight and 300 pounds, just let himself drop on one," recalls Rashid, who designed the chair on a computer and had only tested a few physical prototypes at the time. "I couldn't believe it. The whole thing flexed under his weight. He was oozing out of the holes of the chair." But Rashid's work held up under pressure. In fact, the 39-year-old's chairs, home furnishings, lamps, and containers have made their way into the permanent collections of museums like moma and the Brooklyn Museum of Art. "I want people to love objects the way they love clothing," he says. You can't look up in New York without seeing store windows full of Rashid's perfume bottles for Issey Miyake's Pour Homme and Hilfiger's Freedom, his Nambé housewares line at Macy's and Bloomingdale's, or his multi-million-selling "Garbo" trash cans on sale at Bed Bath & Beyond. Soon, New Yorkers won't be able to look down without seeing his work, either: Rashid designed the winning entry in the 1999 New York City Manhole Competition. "It's just another part of my goal to touch every part of our physical landscape," he says.
Logan Hill

Michael Imperioli
Hit Man

With a furrowed Italian brow and that tough-guy glint in his eyes, Michael Imperioli is tailor-made for Mafia movies -- not exactly Hollywood's healthiest genre. Then came this year's small-screen comic mob epic The Sopranos. As Christopher Moltisanti, Tony Soprano's hot-tempered, cold-blooded nephew, Imperioli helped convince the audience of David Chase's breakaway HBO series that mobsters are a lot like us -- except they spend a lot more time in Jersey. Imperioli, though, is much more than a tough guy. The son of a Bronx bus driver, he helped found two theater companies before landing the role of Spider, the two-bit bar boy Joe Pesci maims and then kills, in Martin Scorsese's GoodFellas. At that point, Imperioli could have gone to Hollywood. But instead, he entrenched himself deeper into the New York landscape, trying his hand at writing screenplays like Summer of Sam, which he calls a "sweeping New York story." He has another screenplay, The Crossroads of Monte Carlo, headed for production next winter, and The Sopranos will also soon get the Imperioli touch. "A month ago, we shot the episode I wrote for this season," he reports with pride from the New Jersey set. "And I've got an idea for a series I'm banging around." Talk about an offer we can't refuse.
Brett Kelly

Kari Sigerson
Miranda Morrison
Shoe Fetishists

Those who make it their business to know the difference between a kitten heel and a stiletto are all too familiar with the allure of Kari Sigerson and Miranda Morrison's Mott Street shop. The thirtysomething pair met at F.I.T. back in 1989 and sold their designs wholesale until they set up shop in a NoLIta storefront four years ago -- simply because it was a few blocks from Kari's house. Although their simple, modern sandals lack the adornments of Manolo Blahnik's and Jimmy Choo's -- no quilting, no beading -- fashion magazines and socialites can't get enough of their flattering designs and flashy colors. "There were so many years you'd see shoes only in black or maybe brown," says Sigerson, who notes that now it's the orange, cherry red, green, and lavender versions that they can't keep in stock -- most notably in the form of this year's "It" shoe, an open-toe stiletto dubbed "the Sholerson" for its tiny Dr. Scholl's-like buckle. While their sexy mule apparently made quite an impression on Nine West and several French design houses, who littered the city with knockoffs, Sigerson Morrison's reach doesn't stop there. "I went to look for an apartment," recalls Sigerson with a laugh, "and the woman had it in her closet. I'm like, this is unbelievable, the people who live here are wearing my shoes!"
Sarah Bernard