Iconic $4.2M East Village home covered in vines that have survived the cold, Sean Penn and angry insurers faces its most daunting threat yet

The iconic wisteria vines that trace their way up the facade of a Civil War-era brownstone for sale in the East Village could be yours for a cool $4.2 million — though locals are worried that the beloved plant could fall victim to the trimmers once the new owner takes over.

The five-story brownstone on Stuyvesant Street — known for the plant that erupts into hanging bunches of stunning purple and pink flowers each spring — has hit the market for the first time since Dwight Eisenhower was president.

“I love it,” homeowner Glenn Zecco, 66, told The Post about the sprawling plant. “It’s beautiful from both inside and out.”

But of course, all good things must end. So when Zecco departs — he’s retiring from his nursing job soon and wants to downsize, he said — the care of the hanging garden will fall to someone else.

“Oh my God, that’s the big question of the day. I’d say they should keep it. It’s like the landmark of the neighborhood,” Siri Kuptamethee, who has been Zecco’s neighbor for 18 years, told The Post about speculation over whether the new owners will keep the wisteria.

“It was planted by Lee Anderson, the previous owner … I would say keep it. It’s just part of the neighborhood, and it brings joy to everyone in the neighborhood,” fellow neighbor Gary McCray agreed.

The wisteria contributes to a “little bit of a European feel” on the block, McCray said.

“It’s a bit quaint, but not overly quaint and that adds to [neighborhood],” McCray summed up.

Maddie, 28, lives in an apartment adjoining 35 Stuyvesant, and admitted that the wisteria vines covering her windows can bring bugs — but said even she wants the plant to stay.

“It’s obviously very beautiful. I love looking at it and living in this building, it’s quite nice. Hopefully they will keep it,” she told The Post.

“I think last year there were a lot of vines and stuff on the building. They trimmed a lot of it down, the dead stuff. We were all like sad, but it ended up like growing back. It was more of a fire hazard thing,” Maddie added.

Zecco has owned the building since 2010, when he bought it in an off-market purchase from its previous owner. Since then, he’s made it his habit to perch himself in the window and gaze out at the New Yorkers rushing by while he eats his breakfast.

“I watch the people going to work stop and smile, or take pictures,” he said. “Others set up easels and paint it. I’ve actually invited people in to sit in the window and take pictures.”

“People flock here by the hundreds every year,” he continued. “It’s kind of hard to explain the joy I get from seeing the joy New Yorkers — and people from all over the world — get when it finally blooms.”

Even the neighbors don’t mind living near the Insta-famous haunt.

“People are always taking pictures. It doesn’t bother me. If anything, I just find it kind of funny because everyone has the same reaction, like, ‘Wow!’ because it’s just like a rare thing,” Maddie said.

The wisteria didn’t worry Monica Rittersporn, the real estate broker who has publicly listed the 162-year-old “jewel of a house” in Renwick Triangle, a row of Renaissance Revival apartment buildings thrown together at the beginning of the Civil War.

“We are in a landmark district,” Rittersporn told The Post. “We imagine the new homeowner will love the wisteria vine as much as everyone else does … it’s iconic.”

Unfortunately, the 55-year-old vines might be in better shape than the actual building, whose beautiful wood-and-brick bones hug an interior in dire need of updating.

Rittersporn says as much in her listing, which states that the brownstone “requires a complete restoration.”

“This is a special opportunity to create a masterpiece,” she wrote.

But the wisteria — which is a famously aggressive, sometimes destructive plant — has latched on to the fire balcony, not the building itself, she told The Post. So it’s not damaging the brick facade.

That’s not to say there haven’t been people who’ve looked past its lovely late April blooms and demanded it be ripped out, root and stem.

City health inspectors have tried to fine Zecco, claiming the creeping vines harbor rats.

“It’s not true,” he said. “I have never seen a rat in there. I’ve paid fines, but they keep going up and up. But then I didn’t pay, and I didn’t hear back anymore.”

“I hope [the inspectors] don’t read this and come back,” he said with a laugh.

His homeowner’s insurance also wants the plant gone — and the company told him so every time he renewed his coverage.

“I tell them to Google the wisteria on Stuyvesant Street, and they’ll see it’s really an important part of this neighborhood and probably one of the most extraordinary wisteria vines in the entire city,” Zecco said.

“I [also] let them know the vine is not attached to the building,” he added. “Then they usually back off.”

Then there was an errant pruning attempt nearly two years ago by a next-door neighbor whose insurance company said they had to clear their own fire balcony.

“They came one week when I was not here and made really steep cuts,” Zecco said. “It got me quite worried.”

He’d seen something similar happen to a sister vine next door that was hacked apart so film crews could capture Sean Penn scaling the fire escape to rescue Nicole Kidman in the 2005 political thriller “The Interpreter.”

The stunt enraged the neighbors, Zecco said, and they tossed pots and pans out the window in a futile attempt to dissuade the blade-wielding butchers.

“People are so passionate about this vine,” he marveled.

But Zecco’s overwrought worries never came to fruition — and the wisteria continued to grow at its typical breakneck pace.

“It’s a gorgeous living being,” prospective buyer Ashley Javier, 54, of Gramercy, told The Post as she inspected it Thursday morning.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to buy the house just for the vine — you can’t live on vine alone — but I love it,” she quipped.

But anyone who does buy the building will have to watch how they treat the woody plant, which is already sprouting green buds at the tips of its highest reaches, because the soon-to-be former owner isn’t going far.

“I’m just literally moving around the corner, behind this building — otherwise, I wouldn’t leave,” Zecco said. “I can come see it in two minutes.”