CHRISTMAS AT THE NATIONAL BOTANIC GARDENS

Braving the chill winter air and delighted throngs of toddlers, I made my way to the National Botanic Gardens to see their Christmas displays last weekend. It's a gorgeous building, all glass domes on slender supports, enclosing tall palms, an orchid trail, and several small streams. But things were a little different in the usually flora-filled great hall, where instead of a Victorian crystal palace, it looked like a band of hyper-active, genius squirrels with degrees in architecture went on a building spree.

To wit:

Everything in these miniatures is constructed from organic material - twig pillars, glazed leaf roofs, acorn -crusted pediments - creating a charming tableau of D.C.'s famous buildings.

Bartholdi Fountain (note the jets of water - it works!)

Library of Congress, Thomas Jefferson Building

Check out those little leaf floor tiles!

The Lincoln Monument

The White House

National Museum of the American Indian (roofed in mushrooms)

The Washington Monument

The Smithsonian Castle

The Supreme Court

The Thomas Jefferson Monument (gourd dome included)

/All images/ my own/

HIGH SKY ADVENTURE

Couture Carrie recently featured a snapshot of this lovely, jewel box of an apartment shown in Architectural Digest, and it reminded me of nothing so much as a three dimensional Mondrian. Care to live in a work of art?

Composition No. 10. 1939-42

Architect Lee F. Mindel designed the space, resplendent with "views and light."

And speaking of high-wire acts, here is a featured home in the NYTimes - a dreamscape set in Seattle's stratosphere. Fitting that children live there, since it strikes me as a the figment of a child's imagination - dwelling high above the city like the man in the moon - in a pyramid of glass and light. Who could resist that? Well, everything except the 35 story elevator ride...

How would you like to live on top of the world?

/Images/Architectural Digest/NYTimes/Mondrian/

THE ARCHITECTURE OF HOLINESS

Years ago, a friend of mine gifted me with what I still consider to be the single best party favor I have ever received: a magazine. It was unfamiliar, intriguing, and indisputably perfect, a copy of the Oxford American. I've since come to view the OA as one of those essentials in life that it is challenging to remember "before" - as in, what did we do before microwaves? I often wonder, what did I read before the OA?

That first encounter with the OA also opened, quite literally, another door for me. The achingly beautiful work of architect E. Fay Jones at Throwncrown Chapel, in the Ozarks, featured in that issue. It was part technological wonder and part myth - one could imagine Frank Lloyd Wright opening the door with a hearty invitation, or perhaps one of the seven dwarves. The design was majestic, yet pragmatic too, a building of the space age, all glass and narrow limbs, barely tethered to earth. And it was a spiritual edifice, a great arrow pointing to the heavens.

The grounds for Thorncrown were purchased for retiring from the world, but in that modern, post-career sense we so casually use. Here owner Jim Reed would live in repose and security, in a home especially designed for his comforts. Yet beautiful views of the mountains from this site lured many passersby, and one day while ambling up the path to the home-site, Reed thought of a chapel - a glass chapel, a respite for wayfarers, a harbor for the many wandering, and wondering, souls who passed by.

Somehow, Reed convinced Fay Jones, a former apprentice of Frank Lloyd Wright, to design this sanctuary of the woods. But as the project forged ahead, funding failed. It was not a chapel, but a folly -  the half-begun skeleton of Thorncrown was more thorn than crown, an apparent testament to foolhardy whims.

As he progressed one last time through the ruins of Thorncrown, convinced it would never stand, Reed was possessed by the desire to pray. He bent to his knees, for the first time in his life, on the chapel floor, to pray for help. Thus Throwncrown's first wondering soul was its own designer's, and the chapel's half finished timbers heard their first prayer as a plea to keep them standing.

In days, the funding for the chapel was suddenly provided. Throwncrown would be completed, and Reed's odd little vision while walking through a wood would become a worldwide destination, and an architectural wonder.

Thorncrown Chapel opened its doors in 1980, and since then, more than 5 million people have passed through them. The spare interior and soaring rooflines evoke the simple expanse of the Ozark woods, inviting the great outdoors in. But it is a beautiful building because it so fluently speaks its purpose: growing up out of the forest floor, a holy tree among the earthly trees, bearing the fruits of reflection and prayer.

/Images & bio/thorncrown.com/americanprofile.com/

Frank Lloyd Wright, a la 1924

Concrete is, to say the least, a challenging medium for the home. We're used to seeing it in the sparer, impersonal parts of our lives: office complexes, government buildings, hospitals. It can be tough dwelling in a house whose closest genetic cousin is the overpass. But that's why we revere design geniuses like Frank Lloyd Wright. In L.A., Wright turned the stuff of city sidewalks into a light-filled, glamorous tinsel town abode. Check out the Ennis House, built in 1924 in Los Angeles, and inspired by Mayan Temples. One of the first homes constructed of concrete block, Wright fashioned this 10,000 foot, eerily beautiful design into a modern mansion. And like every other Hollywood classic, it's a bit of a film star: the Ennis House has had cameos in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Rocketeer, and most famously, Bladerunner. Let's take a tour:

The Foyer:  notice the temple-like column structure and the light flooding the space.

A view toward the dining room, where you can see the beautiful geometry of the blocks.

Glorious views of California hills are the perfect backdrop for the home; the block pattern runs through the interior and exterior of the house.

The pool was a later addition in the same spirit as the house. These days, the home's restoration is supervised by Eric Lloyd Wright.

A beautiful view down the hall - doesn't this feel faintly Egyptian?

Sadly, Ennis House is in danger of seriously deteriorating. Earthquakes, heavy rains, and wear and tear on the concrete patterns have caused costly damage. If you'd like to read more about the home or help out, visit here.

Most images, ennishouse.org and unknown online sources. Please contact me if you know the origin of these photos.

Chanel, Texas Style

Everyone has their favorite room - bedroom, living room, even patio. But my deep, dark, secret love is for closets (pantries run a close second, even though I have groceriophobia). Why? Elementary, Ms. Watson. Type A, first born, detail obsessive types LOVE order and organization. Add style to the mix, and you get someone who loves organized CLOTHES. Me. I can (and have) dedicated hours to color coordinating sweaters. MY shoes don't get thrown into old boxes. I've been known to consider elfa shelving as a request for Santa. But it never occured to me to go further. To dream of a closet/dressing room that looked, not just like a store, but like THE store. The Chanel store in Paris. But someone greater (and way richer) than I thought of just that plan. Behold:

This closet is located in a palace in rural Texas called Champ d'Or. It is inspired by the original Chanel Rue Cambon showroom, and is in many ways a replica of it. Note the fabulous chandelier, black lacquered cabinets, and glassed in cases for handbags (of the non-Target variety).

Here's a look at the current Chanel showroom, modernized - but still black and white. Courtesy fabulous international shopping blog Haute World.

More views of the glassed in shelving at Champ d'Or, and the staircase leading to the second floor of the closet. What? You thought closets were just one floor? The stair is inspired by the famous Chanel mirrored staircase (sans mirrors, oddly).

The original mirrored stair: note the similar railings. Here, Chanel is watching her show, hidden from the eyes of guests below.

Nearby (relatively), at Champ d'Or, the Shampoo Room, not to be confused with the bathroom.

The grand exterior of Champ d'Or.

The entrance hall. Like a very, very beautiful... hotel. Very Monte Carlo, actually.

Care to buy? Frankly, despite the Chanel closet, the style of the house to me is more "we have a lot of money" than "we have a lot of taste." Champ d'Or is currently on the market for $27,500,000. Which is a steal actually, compared to its original $72,000,000 price tag (it has been been for sale since 2003). That's less, according to one realtor, than an actual French chateau would cost. The owners (who built it) only lived in the house a short while before deciding, according to one news story, that it was "too much house for them." Really? Gee. That must have been a shock. I can't imagine designing and building a 48,000 square foot home, complete with a 78 foot central dome, ballroom, 3 kitchens, 2-story theater, a "gift-wrap room," conservatory, wine cellar, indoor racquetball court, and a cedar-lined 15 car garage, and then moving in and realizing it's TOO BIG. I have an idea: one thing many American people do is combine room functions, which lessens the amount of space they have to build. For instance, you can make your food in one part of the house and CARRY it into another part of the house, which saves building multiple kitchens. Even more amazing (I know - I'm just a great one for ground-breaking ideas), you can wrap your gifts in a room intended for ANOTHER purpose. A living room, bedroom, or even the special room you designed for tying your shoes, or the other special room you built just for making wreaths. Actually, you can wrap gifts anywhere, come to think of it. Even outside. On your tennis court.

For a video of the interior, click here.

Images:

http://www.obeo.com/Public/Viewer/Default.aspxrefurl=ebby.com&resize=true&ID=285569,http://media.photobucket.com/image/chanel%20paris%20mirrored%20stair/schukina1/VINTAGE/r3-01-13.jpg, http://www.briggs-freeman.com/propertyphotos/12220_4pg.pdf.

Oak Alley and St. James Plantations

NOLA update: as promised! Last week I visited New Orleans and drove out West of the city along the Old River Road, fabled home of a thousand plantations. While most of them are long gone, a few beautiful dames of the antebellum era still exist along the Mississippi's banks. Two of them, Oak Alley and St. James, sit side by side. While the house at Oak Alley is now a popular tourist destination and has been featured in several films, St. James is a quieter, austere mansion set on 1,000 acres of a working sugar cane farm.

Stunning Oak Alley. It is surrounded by 28 classic columns, each 8 feet in diameter. Famous for its beautiful views and eery evening landscape, the plantation and home have appeared in numerous movies, including Interview with a Vampire and (so weirdly) Beyonce's Deja Vu music video.

The magnificent trees are layered in leafy ferns. The trees are thought to be over 300 years old, planted in the early 1700s by a colonial settler. The house was not built until the 1830s.

A view from the second floor balcony, toward the Mississippi River. Unfortunately for the view (but fortunately for life and property) the river's levee was increased from 5 feet to 15 feet in the twentieth century. In the house's heyday, the Mississippi River and passing boats would have been visible from the house.

The St. James Plantation, next door. I had the honor of receiving a tour from one of the plantation owner's descendants. The same family has owned the plantation since 1875.

Every October, the St. James home is dressed for mourning. Mourning in 1800s Louisiana plantation country was a complicated cultural ritual that defined every aspect of the mourner's lives. In a world without internet or even reliable mail, the first step was to notify passersby that the tragedy had occurred. At the time, riverboats traveling on the Mississippi would have seen the signs of mourning, and carried the news along the shore.

Mourning extended to every aspect of home life. In a world where early death and disease were tragically common, loss was still treated with reverence and care. The mourning period could extend from a few months to a year and a half, depending on the age and importance of the deceased, and the mourner's relationship to them. A widow mourned longest, and even her bed linens were trimmed in black ribbon (something to think about the next time you fall in love with a black and white bedset!).

Creole mourning traditions had both French and Spanish roots. Here, a drape is hung over a mirror, to prevent the spirit of the deceased from becoming trapped inside. In Creole tradition, spirits were attracted to shiny objects, and so widows also refrained from wearing bright jewelry for the first few months after the death. The clock in the mantel is stopped at time of death, as was traditional.

Most Creole families were Catholic. Here, a prayer bench and rosary are placed coffin side. In the warm Southern summers, a coffin would be kept before burial for three days or less, often with bowls of ice beneath. The piece of furniture under black cover is the piano. After a death, pianos were covered because music was joyful - and thus inappropriate. Notice that even the candles have little black ribbons on them.

Widow's weeds. These elaborate laces would not have been worn until later in the mourning period, as would the shiny brooch. With the death rates in those days and the extreme measures for mourning, women who lived past 40 would spend almost all of their remaining lives dressed in black.

All images, my own. Please request permission to use.