Paris Shoes at 51 W. Hastings, in Vancouver, possibly 1919. If shoeboxes still looked this beautifully white, you wouldn’t have to have salespeople constantly disappearing into the back. I somehow doubt that the uniform whiteness of this bank of shoe boxes could every happen again, though, and if it did it would be some sort of high art hipsterism rather than pure utility. In 1945 this shoe shop was still in operation, and that’s Pierre Paris in front of it, below, just after the end of the war. Like so many buildings in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, the building fell into disrepair (see bottom) over the past few decades and was condemned. But it has been gutted and saved and has just been turned into condos. That’s optimistic on the developer’s part, considering that the block is even sketchier now than it was when Hastings Street was the logging skid road that gave birth to the term skid row. You can see the building’s interesting retail neighbour in the before pre-renovation shot at bottom. Lots more pictures of the building and neighbourhood are at parisblock.com. From the site:

… For over 60 years The Paris Block was home to Pierre Paris & Sons – a logging boot manufacturer and shoe retailer. Today, the Paris family company continues as Paris Orthotics on West 4th Avenue. Originally built in 1907, The Paris Block is unique in that massive iron i-beams were employed to span the entire width of the building… A mixed retail and commercial building, The Paris Block was originally known as the Eastern Building, and attracted prominent tenants from the beginning. Not long after its construction, the upper floors became the Strathcona Hotel while the ground floor was occupied by Pierre Paris & Sons in 1919. Remnants of the painted signage for both these businesses are still visible on the east and west exposures of the building.

This is by far one of my favourite houses in Vancouver. It’s in the municipality of West Vancouver, home to many of the best modern houses in the city, and it belongs to the novelist Douglas Coupland. He grew up in West Vancouver, not far from this house. Just as beautiful as this place is the house below it, a beautiful midcentury modern post and beam house designed by the architect Ron Thom. That’s the house Coupland actually lives in with his architect partner David Weir. Coupland is an artist and designer as well as a writer, and the house shown here serves as his gallery, guest house, and many other things. One of the reasons Coupland bought a second house is that the rate of demolition of midcentury modern houses in Vancouver is accelerating, and he wanted to preserve what was in his own back yard. Everything in the house is original – the flagstone floor, the carport, the railings. Lastly I’m sure it’s partly my visual OCD or some pyschedelic tendency, as well as of course their beauty, but his collections of shapes and objects are completely mesmerizing to me. Spools of thread, lego, polyhedra, modernist vases: I’m fixated. There are informative captions on the NYT blog – click on photos to go there (or link at bottom), and see my previous post on Coupland here. The fantastic photos are by Vancouver photographer Martin Tessler for the New York Times.

For NYT captions, click below:

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Probably everyone and his/her dog has seen this NYC loft apartment by now, and possibly also blogged about it, but this is one of those places that is so hypnotizing I can’t stop looking at it. It’s on the top floor of a former industrial building on Broadway in NYC and not surprisingly it belongs to an architect couple. It is filled with Jean Prouvé and Hans Wegner furniture among other beautiful things, but it’s the beautiful diamond-patterned Berber rug and the striped pillows that make it. There’s something about these minimalist, monochomatic stripes and geometries that produce a mesmerized quasi-autistic trance, while at the same time they are also pleasingly reminiscent of the traditional striped textiles of both Sweden and Greece. Modernism’s long-standing relationship with simple agrarian-based weaving is not surprising. Without the wood and textiles this would just be another cool – even cold – white loft.

Via OWI.

When I moved into this typical 1930s apartment in Vancouver’s east side in 1999, the first thing I did was paint over the kitchen’s dingy gold linoleum flooring. The linoleum was the worst thing about that apartment. Everyone always says not to paint linoleum – or any surface you walk on, for that matter – but the painted floor turned out to be durable, easy to deal with and gave me no end of pleasure. You would think a white floor would really show the dirt, but it didn’t seem to, and the glossy painted finish was way easier to clean than the scuffed, dirt-attracting lineolum had been. You can see the old linoleum below (along with some fake protest signs made by an artist friend):

It’s ridiculously easy to do. Here’s how: Degrease the floor as much as you can, either with a proper degreasing liquid or just some strong soap, let it fully dry and then sand the linoleum thoroughly. 80 or 100 grit is fine – you can go finer but avoid anything finer than 150 because the grit does tend to clog a bit. Buy a couple of cans of a tough, dedicated floor paint. Most paint companies carry floor paint, but I got mine from Home Depot – I can’t remember the brand but it was water-based, not too smelly, and could be tinted any colour you wanted. I used a semi-gloss pure designer white. Between coats and when recoating, make sure you only walk on it in white socks, and follow the recoat times to the letter. Before moving heavier items back in, wait a week while the paint hardens. I didn’t want to move the fridge, so I just painted around (and under) it.

The result was quite interesting, because the texture of the lineoleum showed through in a pleasing way (see photo with the vacuum cleaner). The white floor made it feel much more mod in there, which was was great because all the pieces of furniture I owned back then were worn antiquey items I ended up with when my grandfather’s house was sold. As an aside, that interesting corner cabinet in the kitchen was a typical old Vancouver cold cellar – these were cooled by a vent to the outside and were meant for storing vegetables and cheese etc. Apartment kitchens from this era also frequently had hot water tanks in plain view, because these were added later. Hence the homemade birch screen below, which is a 5′x5′ sheet of Baltic birch cut in equal thirds, sanded and finished with varathane, and then re-assembled with two long piano hinges. All together, this doesn’t amount to a proper kitchen renovation, but it was a cheap cosmetic fix that made the apartment feel so much nicer. The whole job cost about $200 if you include the birch screen.

Supposedly raw blonde is a trend for 2009. That’s great because we think one of us might be a raw blonde, based on this definition. Warm, but austere, and at this point pretty pale. This room somehow manages to be both sensual and monastic at the same time, so perhaps it represents the perfect refuge for a recession. It almost reads as anti-consumerist, even though it undoubtedly isn’t, and that makes it somehow comforting. See the whole Scandinavian trend forecast at emmas designblogg. All white is still going strong, maybe for the same reasons?

Bathroom futurism! Excellent circular spaceship shapes, but I’m not sure about shag rugs in the bathroom. I prefer bold ideas better to safe design, and “soft” modernism to a sterile medical environment, but how on earth would you clean this room? The answer is we’re not on earth, and in space, obviously, flokatis stay clean automatically. The photo is from The Practical Encyclopedia of Good Decorating and Home Improvement, Greystone Press, 1970. “Practical”! The caption reads:

The sumptuous luxury of this modern bathroom owes much to the clever lighting which helps to create a mood of splendor. A softly glowing circle of light at one end of the sculptured oval tub sets the circular theme of the room. The cool light provides ample illumination, but has a softness which is flattering and in keeping with the lush white pile of the rug. Spotlights from the horizontal bands at either side of the room supplement the halo of light and the lights set into each of the multi-purpose niches. Lighting under the fat hassock is a safety factor; it can be used as a night light.

By way of contrast, here’s the mod but comfortably domestic living area on the spaceship “Serenity” of Firefly and Serenity fame. The ship’s lounge is some kind of amalgam of midcentury modern and 60s/70s mod. Look at the rya rugs and that brass wall sculpture thing! And does anyone recognize that fantastic yellow lounge set? It’s interesting to see decor from the 60s cropping up in a movie that describes itself as a space western. It’s a mix of frontiers, I guess. Apologies for the fuzzy screenshots.