BOSTON » Two years have passed since the demolition of Filene’s Basement, where generations of Bostonians tussled over cut-rate designer clothes in a dingy but fiercely loved downtown store.

In its place, a $700 million tower was to rise with offices, condominiums, a hotel and a new Filene’s for the bargain hungry. But the recession halted the project, possibly for good, leaving Boston with a deserted construction pit in one of its busiest neighborhoods.

"I hate to walk by it every day," said Donna DePrisco, whose jewelry store sits a block from the fenced-off hole. "Everyone misses the place. Even some of my multimillionaire customers who could shop anywhere tell me how much they miss it."

While such scars on the landscape are common these days, cities that gave up iconic buildings or businesses for outsize projects that may now never happen are suffering from a rising sense of regret.

In Providence, R.I., a crumbling brick facade is all that remains of the landmark Providence National Bank building, which was razed in 2005 to make way for a now-canceled residential tower.

Seattle lost a beloved example of midcentury modern architecture, a curvy-roofed building that most recently housed a Denny’s restaurant, to the wrecking ball in 2008; it is still waiting for the condominiums and shops that were to open.

Other cities, including San Diego and San Francisco, have so many empty lots that officials have discussed filling them with temporary tree farms, parks or public art.

But perhaps none of the stalled projects have stirred as much angst as the one here, known as One Franklin. For nearly a century, Filene’s Basement was as renowned a monument as Fenway Park and Faneuil Hall — a plaque out front commemorated Filene’s as the "Hub of the Universe." Long before outlet malls, it promised the thrill of the hunt and left generations of Bostonians with stories of tugs of war fought, treasures found and friendships forged in its drab aisles.

"Everyone would dig through those bins, and you never knew what beautiful things you’d come away with," said Anne Peckham, a devotee whose relationship with Filene’s was like Holly Golightly’s with Tiffany’s. "If you had a tough day, there was nothing that would brighten it more than going down to the Basement."

Tempers erupted here last month when one of the project’s developers, Vornado Realty Trust, based in New York, won approval to build a skyscraper there that will rival the Empire State Building in height. Mayor Thomas M. Menino threatened to revoke building permits for the Boston site if construction did not resume this month. "It shows arrogance on their part," Menino said. "They could care less about Boston, and that bothers me to no end."

A similar situation played out in New York in the 1990s, when Vornado let the former Alexander’s department store on Lexington Avenue sit vacant and blighted for years. Menino invoked Alexander’s in an angry letter to Vornado executives, accusing them of "a consistent policy of indifference."

Bud Perrone, a spokesman for Vornado, declined to comment, as did Marcy Syms, whose company, Syms Corp., now owns Filene’s Basement.

In a letter to the city last month, Sandeep Mathrani, an executive vice president of Vornado, wrote that it was still seeking "a suitable solution for the site that can be financed and meet the city’s goals for the area." But the letter, which was also signed by John B. Hynes III, a co-developer, offered no timeline.

There are now 27 other Filene’s Basement stores in nine states and Washington, including one in the Back Bay neighborhood of Boston. But none hold the cachet of the original 1909 downtown store. Susan Edbril, a psychologist whose grandmother worked at Filene’s for almost 40 years, said the demolition did not seem so bad when a new version of the store was expected within a few years. "People didn’t have a chance to say goodbye or to grieve," Edbril said, "because they thought it was going to be there again."

Edbril and Michael Bavaro, a filmmaker, recently finished a documentary called "Voices from the Basement" about the store and its devotees, including former Gov. Michael S. Dukakis, the actress Estelle Parsons and Representative Barney Frank. Frank described the store as Boston’s great equalizer, drawing rich and poor alike with its famous automatic markdown system.

The film was supposed to include footage of the new store, Edbril said, but she eventually gave up.

She is still besieged by people eager to share their Filene’s Basement stories. "Everyone in this city has one," Edbril said. "If you think about that and what was lost, it’s psychologically huge."

In Providence, David O’Brien’s art shop, Picture This, looks out on the neglected facade of the razed Providence National Bank building, which is supported by rusting steel beams that block the sidewalk and part of the street.

"It’s a hazard at this point," he said. "I would just as soon take that lot and turn it into a park, a parking lot — anything — until they have the money to build again."

Menino, who has a history of highly public battles with developers, rejected an offer by the developers to move ahead with a scaled-down project that would include some stores, including a Filene’s, and a parking garage.

"That’s a moneymaker for them, but what’s it do for the city?" he said.

He said he was among those who missed roaming the aisles of Filene’s, where aunts took him on Sundays as a child and where he snagged piles of ties and suits over the years. Like him, Peckham recalled how Bostonians used to love ducking out of work for an hour or two to comb the racks.

"When people were overcome with solving their problems," she said, "I used to say, ‘Is there any harm in just leaving the office and going to look at beautiful things?’ It was a lot cheaper and a lot more fun than having a psychiatrist."

© 2010 The New York Times Company