Should we stay or should we go Should we ...

Should we stay or should we go?

In spring 2000, one month after NASDAQ crashed and one before they got married, Justin Smith and Jean O'Brien fell in love at first sight with their Financial District loft.

It was their fourth go-see-2300 square feet with a $1,000,000 price tag, $1000 monthly fee and 10-year tax abatement. Newly converted to residential space, the open configuration had kitchen, bedroom and bathroom enclosed. It was floor eight of the historic 10-story building where Edgar Allan Poe penned "The Raven." Twenty-one huge windows faced three directions. It was perfect.

The offer they made on the spot was accepted immediately. They moved in shortly thereafter, decorating with casually elegant furniture and sizeable original works by artists in Justin's family.

Today, they're still loft-smitten, but Financial District living has been as tricky as playing the stock market.

"The first year was good," says Justin. "We liked the area; the narrow streets feel European. Weekdays, crowds bustle everywhere. Nights and weekends are so quiet you can hear a pin drop. It's not developed, but close to Tribeca's restaurants and shops."

"It's a little tacky," says Jean. "We didn't noticed the sex shop downstairs until we'd bought the loft. Friends tease us, but the purple neon signage works as a landmark when we're giving directions."

Then 9/11 hit.

Justin was overseas on business. Jean, home alone and one-month pregnant, recalls: "Outside our windows, pigeons went nuts and white paper fluttered in the sunshine. I thought it was ticker tape, grabbed my camera, dashed to Church and Vesey-then saw the fire. When the second plane hit, I ran home. Black soot streamed through our windows. I thought it was ash-not dead people. I couldn't breathe. I lay on the kitchen floor, paralyzed with fear. I'd have suffocated if our neighbor hadn't rescued me and our two dogs... I walked to my sister's in the East Village. I was terrified whatever I'd inhaled would hurt my baby."

They relocated uptown temporarily, returning to the loft when told it was safe. But the neighborhood felt different.

"Downtown was unaccommodating. Our daughter-thankfully Esme's perfectly fine-and dogs had no places to play. Depressing memories haunted me," says Jean.

"We worried about other attacks, or a market crash. We decided to move," Justin adds. "Riverside Drive looked good."

Shortly after putting the loft on the market, they accepted a $1,250,000 offer-up 25 percent in two years, despite 9/11.

"Then, we experienced pre-sellers regret," says Justin.

"When Vesey Street reopened, the neighborhood rebounded," adds Jean.

"Battery Park was accessible without detouring uptown. Esme and our dogs had play places. We wanted to stay."

They paid $5000 to undo the sale and keep the loft.

Happily ever after?

"Ten years, maybe," says Jean. "We're not sure it's ideal for Esme.

"When she's older, that sex shop will raise questions."

Meanwhile, the purple neon signage is an ongoing joke among guests invited to supper soirees held by Smith and O'Brien.

"Entertaining-our guerrilla tactic for introducing [our magazine] The Week to influential people and making new friends-wasn't motivation for buying the loft, but it's a benefit of having it. Not financially; we're not paid and there's no tax write-off. We enjoy entertaining. We move furniture aside, set tables for up to 75 guests. Conversation is casual, relaxed, invigorating," says Justin. "We couldn't do it the same way on Riverside Drive."