Some of the most intriguing architecture in New York is also some of the most fleeting. I speak of commercial architecture, which is more often a matter of interiors and facades than of complete structures. But precisely because the most compelling shops are the closest followers and the most adept creators of fashion, the shelf-life of even their finest designs tends to be all too brief.

For the moment though, the stretch of 57th Street from Fifth Avenue to Madison Avenue is something to see. In the past decade, it has transformed itself to such an extent that scarcely a single storefront remains as it was. As might be expected, this transformation was protracted and hellish, with large passages on both sides of the street, but especially the northern one, consumed in an orgy of scaffolding, dust, and debris.

Still, the outcome has been worth it. This patch of Manhattan has been a center of fashion for the past 100 years, and so it has had to reinvent itself constantly. But the variety and general quality of the more recent innovations have been astounding, and the whole is even greater than the sum of its parts The Nike Building, with its bizarre vernacular design, the facetted mass of the LVMH Building, the plaid patterning that makes up the façade of the Burberry flagship, and the milky mirage that is the Louis Vuitton store on the corner of Fifth Avenue, all together represent a chaotic circus of retail architecture, whose unlikely coherence is the paradoxical result of its unbridled diversity.

Recently a new shop has arrived on the street that is the equal of any of its neighbors in its boldness. This is the Nokia flagship, designed by the firm of Eight Inc. Its narrow and lofty façade is dominated by a deep and impenetrable blue, which suggests the anatomical structure of an integrated circuit. As you enter, you find yourself gazing down a long corridor flanked by the minute and jewel-like cell-phones that are the objects of such frantic mass preoccupation. (At their highest end, these objects are marketed under the name of Vertu, a term that refers to those gilded and enameled snuff boxes that date from the ancien régime and of which these hightech gadgets are the post-industrial equivalent.) Along the sides, as you pass, the deep green walls, formed of luminous glass panels, shift to blue, then pink, then yellow, not only at ground level, but also throughout the store, in silent concert. The vigorous angularity of the store can be found on three levels, to which access is granted by an equally angular stairway formed from dark metal railings.

A little further south in Midtown, at Sixth Avenue and 42nd Street, an even newer store has opened, the HBO boutique. A onestory affair, it is smaller than the Nokia flagship, but it too integrates constant change into its décor through a dizzying shift in colors. Pale greens, violets, and skyblues bathe the walls in ethereal wash of color that spills out into the drab sidewalks of Midtown. The interior itself, designed (from all I could glean) by Gensler Architects, is as angular as that of the Nokia store, but differently so. Most of it is occupied by four gunmetal gray cases, sullenly rectilinear, that recall the minimalist sculpture of Donald Judd. Along the walls, are frantically shifting video loops of HBO’s greatest hits, “Rome,” “The Sopranos,” and so on, together with a clamorous soundtrack.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Midtown, an entirely different and altogether more organic approach to retail has been achieved by Phyto Universe, the new wellness center at the corner of 58th Street and Lexington Avenue that sells cosmetics and the like. As with most such enterprises, the governing idea here seems to be that the world is too much for us and that we can regain our serenity, indeed our sanity, only through closer contact with our cousins in the plant kingdom. The very name derives from the Greek word for plant. To this end, the designer of the space has contrived to place an entire wall consisting of a lush and uninterrupted tapestry of plant life. What is architecturally so noteworthy about this tour de force is its similarity to one of the pavilions that make up the spanking new Musée du Quay Branly, which opened last June in Paris. Though the overall design of that museum was the work of Jean Nouvel, the singular wall of plantlife was the inspired idea of Patrick. Blanc. Previously he had created in places like Japan. Just as the Musée Branly represented his first European triumph, so Phyto Universe is his first venture in this hemisphere. His striking achievement can best be taken in by viewing it from across the street on Lexington Avenue.

At Phyto Universe, as in the two other examples of retail architecture and design that I have discussed, there is no logical reason why you should be any more inclined to purchase their wares because of the excellence of their décor. But if, as seems likely, décor can move merchandise, then the wares that are being bought here should be flying off the shelves.

jgardner@nysun.com