So why don't we think of it as a success? For one thing, the mere whiff of utopia sets our teeth on edge these days. After a century of high-profile failures—from Fordlandia to Helicon Home Colony—most of us can't shake the idea that behind those neocolonial shutters lurks something sinister, whether as simple as tax evasion or as truly nightmarish as a violent cult. In other words, Celebration is not only a victim of its own marketing, but a victim of a public that perceives planned communities as deeply creepy....That's healthy isn't it, our suspicion of planned communities? We perceive them as creepy because excessive planning, imposed on us by experts who purport to know how we should live, is creepy.
By the way, the word "creepy" originally referred to slow movement, then to the feeling that one's flesh is moving — the feeling of horror or disgust — so that you would say, for example, "I feel somehow quite creepy at the thought of what's coming." (That's the oldest usage in that second sense found by the OED, from a 1831 work called "Cat's Tail.) Only in the late 19th century did "creepy" come to refer to the things that cause your flesh to creep.
1883 ‘G. Lloyd’ Ebb & Flow II. xxxiii. 236 The whole place seemed lonely, and, as Mildred whispered to Pauline, ‘creepy.’I get the feeling that "G. Lloyd" was portraying Mildred as misusing the word, like the way, years ago, an author might make an uneducated character say "nauseous" for "nauseating." (But the progression of the word "nauseous" goes in the opposite direction from "creepy." "Creepy" went from describing how bad you feel to describing the thing that makes you feel bad, but "nauseous" went from describing the thing that makes you feel bad to describing your bad feeling. That made it considerably more humorous to make a dumb character say "I'm nauseous" than for Mildred to say that the place is "creepy.")