Amore Amonte
A new subdivision named Amonte will eschew traditional designs to celebrate architects' imaginations.
Imagine a subdivision with million-dollar Modernist houses but no McMansions, where each building is more spectacular than the next, where every home is perfectly sited and at one with the surrounding environs. Somewhere over the rainbow? No, somewhere down Mason Road.
In May, Jeff Clark and Jay Simon, the principals of Metropolitan Design and Building and Metropolitan Development Group, slipped their shovels into piles of soil and formally broke ground for Amonte, a seven-home subdivision with a teardrop-shaped cul-de-sac covering 11 acres of undeveloped woods in Town & Country (between Clayton and Manchester roads). The first house to be built—but yet to be sold—was designed by architect Adrian Luchini. Other faculty members of the Washington University School of Architecture—Sung Ho Kim and Heather Woofter, Yousif Albustani, Gia Daskalakis, Stephen Leet and Susan Bower, and Pia Sarpaneva—drew up possible designs for additional houses. The estimated price starts at $2 million.
At the groundbreaking, John Dalton, mayor of Town & Country, said, "Amonte makes us a better place."
It certainly makes Town & Country a unique place. The only similar development of Modernist houses is, according to Jeff Clark, in New York's Hamptons.
The current design for the first house (formally known as Lot 5) stands at 7,000 square feet. "That is the upper end in terms of size," Clark explains. "We really don't want these things to become behemoths. We are looking for them to remain responsible in terms of size. Ideally, we would like to see them between 3,000 and 5,000 square feet."
The Lot 5 house stands 40 feet high and juts out into the lot perched on curved, flamingo-like legs. One wall is all glass; elsewhere a smattering of the windows are triangular. Another design has a swimming pool over the driveway. The variety of building materials include copper, wood, natural stone and, in the case of one, a zinc roof.
"These are places where you nurture your soul and project how life can be," Clark says. "These homes are a fusion of site with the art of living."
And who exactly will be living in this community? Clark explains that they are marketing the homes to "optimistic leaders as well as visionaries, and that is not necessarily the same thing. We see these people as being design-literate, understanding the importance of bringing a high-caliber design architect to the table, and what they contribute to the quality of life. That is a fundamentally important aspect of building the house."
Private Bank is financing the development, and realtors at Prudential Alliance Realtors are selling the properties. If buyers opt to bring their own architect, Clark, Simon and Luchini will review the plans before allowing them to proceed.
Suffice it to say, McMansions won't make the cut.
—Christy Marshall
The Bounds of Bigness
Cramped in your castle? Go West.
By the time you read this, Colorado's Pitkin County—home to powder playground Aspen—will have succeeded in ratifying a 15,000-square-foot cap on new homes within its borders. A little too late to keep former Saudi Arabian ambassador to the United States, Prince Bandar bin Sultan, from building his 55,000-square-foot palace, but it's a start.
Hi, Aspen? Welcome to Ladue, circa 1996.
St. Louis' little hamlet of opulence has had just such a zoning restriction on the books for a decade. You won't find any mention of it in the building code, but the 30,000-square-foot Jones house typically gets credit for ending the mega-house party. "The city realized that, if we were going to have houses of that size, we needed to have a little more oversight in the process," says Jim Schmieder, a building permit technician for the city of Ladue. Sure, we may not have Aspen's ski runs, but we've got them beat on land-use lockdowns.
Or so it might seem. While homes in Town & Country can take up no more than 13 percent of the lot—yielding a paltry 11,000 square feet on a 2-acre lot—those who can't quite shoehorn their family and possessions into such tiny spaces have alternatives inside I-270. Neither Huntleigh nor Wildwood has established a hard-and-fast restriction based on square footage. The latter enforces some setback requirements, but with most lots averaging at least 3 acres, those requirements are hardly restrictive. "The biggest of the big can be accommodated here," says Joe Vujnich, director of parks and planning for the City of Wildwood.
Huntleigh, all one square mile of it, is even more liberal with its zoning codes. "There are no restrictions," says Peter von Gontard, Huntleigh's city clerk. "There's a 2,500 square-foot minimum, but no maximum. We don't have a staff, so we'd have to wait to hear from our citizens if they have concerns." Don't expect residents to start ponying up the extra funds to pay for those building department positions any time soon.
Of course, rules are made to be broken. It seems Ladue's cap on state-sized estates isn't exactly set in stone. In fact, one family is taking advantage of a special-use permit to keep up with the Joneses. Plans for its 22,000-square-foot manse on nine acres at 2222 S. Warson have been approved.
Little in Ladue
Just because you can doesn't mean you should. Tricia Sinn is well aware of the square-footage cap in Ladue, but she's not interested in testing it. Responsible for the modest Cottages of Ladue at Dwyer Place, which were inspired by the book Not So Big House, she preaches residential temperance. "I tell my clients, 'There's a thin line between opulent and ostentatious.'" The seven homes in her development aren't exactly small, ranging in size from 3,900 to 4,600 square feet, but the level of detail made their design difficult. "It's not just another 5,000-square-foot box," she says. The price tag for greater amenity density? The 3,800-square-foot model will go for $1.1 million.
—Matthew Halverson
Lounge & Ottoman Empire
Fifty years ago, the Eames Lounge Chair and Ottoman made its debut on network TV, appearing along with its creators on NBC’s The Home Show. Herman Miller, Inc. is still making it, deviating little from the original design; the only big difference is that the company has switched from rainforest rosewood to more sustainable materials like walnut and cherry.
To mark the chair’s golden anniversary, the company is introducing the piece in a new veneer, santos palisander (pictured), a wood harvested from sustainable tropical forests. Herman Miller is also marking this, and all of its Eames Lounges, with a commemorative medallion. Charles Eames, a St. Louis native, is considered (along with his second wife, Ray) to be one of the most influential Modernist designers. So to fully capture the history of this iconic chair, the company worked with The Grand Rapids Art Museum to organize The Eames Lounge Chair: An Icon of Modern Design, which includes Herman Miller founder D.J. Pree’s personal Eames Chair and Ottoman and a suspended 6-foot sculpture that offers an exploded view of the Lounge from cushions to shock mounts. The exhibit opened in May at the Museum of Arts & Design in New York.
The 50th anniversary Eames Lounge and Ottoman, $3,995, is available locally through Niche (922 Washington, 314-621-8131, www.nichestl.com).
—Stefene Russell
Modern Indifference
Why won't a local antiques dealer sell to St. Louis?
Somewhere west of the city—only a select few know exactly where—sits a warehouse full of impeccably refurbished mid-century antique furniture. Mid 20th-century antique furniture. Coveted by trend-conscious interior designers across the country, these amoeba-shaped cocktail tables and sleek slipper chairs have become the haute home decor du jour and consequently fetch thousands of dollars apiece online. It's our own little Fort Knox of 1950s Modernism ... and the dealer who amassed the collection has no interest in selling any of it here.
Why wouldn't someone with high-demand home furnishings look for local buyers? Economics, for one. When local refurbishers get wind of the prices these pieces fetch, their rates skyrocket, and the chances of buying from local auctions at below market value decrease. But the bigger issue, this dealer says, is one of taste: St. Louisans "don't get it."
These swank pieces of retro chic sell like ultrasuede-covered crack in Manhattan, but they barely register on St. Louis' style radar. Local stores bold enough to specialize in the stuff either wither and close or end up selling it for far less than it's worth--oftentimes to dealers who turn around and sell it elsewhere for a profit.
"There isn't much of a market here, and that's too bad," says local interior designer Scott Tjaden. "Mid-century furniture lines are perfect; the design is classic, the craftsmanship unmatched."
The design itself doesn't seem to be the problem. Stores like Centro, Niche and Baseline Workshop sell enough contemporary modern furniture to remain in business.
So if not the look, then what? Tjaden says St. Louisans are passing up these pieces because they don't see the value. "I have clients who don't want to buy antiques of any kind—even of good quality—and instead buy newly made furniture that could cost the same or double."
It doesn't help that furniture from the '50s has only recently officially become antique. New Yorkers with money may be willing to drop the dough now to buy tomorrow's collectors items, but St. Louisans are more wary, says local writer and design buff Toby Weiss. "This is a sentimental town," she says. "We cling to a past that doesn't even belong to us."
The market for mid-century design, limited though it may be, has its devotees. Kyrle Boldt, founder and owner of bathing suit boutique Splash!, has filled his Modernist Bernoudy-designed home with vintage pieces. Weiss also has friends who appreciate 1950s modernism, and she takes exception to the idea that it's just St. Louis that "doesn't get it." "The same way it's true for St. Louis, it's true for all of the places that are not New York," she says. "St. Louis may not be in that market right now, but that market's only going to pick up steam."
—Matthew Halverson
Wik-torious!
Artist Wiktor Szostalo has mastered many media but may be best known for weaving twigs into treehuggers. There's a robin perched on the head of the St. Francis statue in front of the Jewel Box; around it, almost 30,000 tulips, planted in anticipation of the Tulip Festival. Nearby, Wiktor Szostalo monitors the progress of four giant wicker people literally hugging trees, pieces he's building with fellow artist Agnieszka Gradzik for "The Treehugger Project," a series of arborphile figures made of twigs, vines and branches. Szostalo and sculptor Joe Papendick discuss how to proceed as volunteers roam the park, collecting material for what will become "Rescuing a Cat," "Practicing a Handstand in the Park," "Stacy in the Park Wearing her Grandmother's Dress," and "Jenna with her Hair Up."
"We are trying to find 100 ways to hug a tree," Szostalo says. The idea, he says, is to redeem the word "treehugger" from its pejorative use, and remind people that they live inside of, not apart from, nature.
The first treehuggers took shape last year on the Sculpture Trail at Hebden Bridge in England. "It took about four days. It rained the whole time," Gradzik says, "and they were big and chunky, because all the sticks I had were old and dry, and I didn't have any tools ... Vines are a big help." After weaving larger, more expressive treehuggers in Jefferson City and on the Washington U. campus, they saw the commissions begin rolling in, including requests from the Europos Sculpture Park in Lithuania and the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art in Isfahan, Iran. Though "treehugger" is English vernacular, Szostalo says the concept transcends the wordplay.
"I showed it to my friend in Poland, who doesn't speak English, and he loved it," Szostalo says. "So our first stop when we take it to Poland will be to do this for my childhood friend, to put a treehugger in front of his business."
—Stefene Russell
Buy limited-edition prints and paintings related with the Treehugger Project at www.treehuggerproject.com; see more on Wiktor Szostalo's paintings and sculptures at www.wsart.com.
Genius or goofy?
You may never put a rocket in your pocket, but now you can tuck a barbecue grill into the back of your jeans. Industrial Revolution, Inc., the company that brought the world the “Candlelier” lantern, now offers the Grilliput, “an outdoor minimalist’s dream come true.” All the grill components fit into a small silver tube that “resembles a traditional musical flute,” but when “fully deployed” create a simple stainless-steel grill that measures 9-by-10 inches. You can roast marshmallows on the go, grill a trout fresh out of the stream or fricassee up a possum while hiking through the Ozarks. High functionality and beautiful design (there must be some Swedes behind this somewhere) earn this little guy the “genius” title.
The Grilliput retails for $29.99; go to www.grilliputusa.com for a list of retailers.
Where Do I Go ...
To get pillows cleaned?
Pillows poop out. They just do. After years of being pounded and plumped, they lose their oomph. If you own animals, the down feathers beckon to them in some unheard siren call. How many canines have curled up in the corner of your couch on your best fringe-trimmed downy piece of paradise? After a while, the undeniable is, well, undeniable. Those tufted turfs start to smell a little squirrely. For those so inclined, pillows get replaced. But for those who dropped more than $150 per, or had their sofa accessory custom made with nearly that amount invested in trim, the dustbin is not a welcome option.
Al’s Wydown Laundry & Cleaners to the rescue. Not only do they clean throw pillows, but they can even take your bed pillows, slit them open and replace old feathers with new. They call it Pillow Renovating. It’s done on-site and costs $20 for a standard size, according to owner Dennis Indelichato.
But back to the ones on your sofa. The cost for a large square pillow with trim: $16. (Prices start at $14 and go up from there.) The time: One week. The result: Amazing. Fourteen-year-old pillows looked (and more significantly, smelled) like new.
—Christy Marshall
Al’s Wydown Laundry & Cleaners, 7620 Wydown, 314-721-2004
