World-class cities are built from good ideas

And for a minute, despite the glam - the 18-carat harbour glitter, the cocktail dresses, the fireworks - I felt a reckless optimism that Sydney was at last coming of age. Or perhaps it is a delayed effect of September 11; not an end to towers, but a shift of emphasis from quantity to quality.

Either way, 1 Bligh, conspicuous not for its height but its confidence, nestles comfortably among a gaggle of Sydney towers that are undeniably world-class. Easily visible through 1 Bligh's ultra-clear, curving glass skin are a Norman Foster (one of two), a Richard Rogers (still emerging), two Denton Corker Marshalls and four Harry Seidlers - two of them classics - and a Renzo Piano.

To say nothing of the Jean Nouvel, the third Foster and the Frank Gehry all still in utero, as it were, at the other end of town.

What sets these buildings apart - what makes them world-class - is that they're about something. Ideas. They prove that good ideas, followed through, make good buildings, and good buildings make money. They also make good cities.

This sounds easy but isn't, because the city-building process is so long and convoluted and the forces of compromise so pervasive and multi-pronged. Generally, in Sydney, it's the forces of compromise that have won.

So my optimism sprang from the microscopic yet tantalising possibility that our esteemed development fraternity is at last beginning to value ideas. Been a long time coming.

Politicians too, or so it would seem. Barry O'Farrell may be, even now, ripping every last shred of ingenuity from Barangaroo, but it's not every tower that gets its cord cut by the PM. Admittedly, Gillard is expected to take space in 1 Bligh, moving her Sydney offices from Phillip Street, and to this end had crawled all over the building, even on to its glass roof. But that wasn't the reason for her midwifery.