A few weeks ago The Seattle Times featured a stunning Midcentury modern home in its magazine section. A side note mentioned that this home and four others would be part of the Seattle Modern Home Tour. We (well, I) absolutely had to see this house. That meant allowing Eric to spend a Saturday above ground instead of in the shop/dungeon, where he purportedly has been constructing our new bedframe. Heck, the bedframe can slide another day.
So we set out on a beautiful sunny morning to buzz around Seattle, gawking at homes we will never be able to afford.
And here it is … three bedrooms, a simple, L-shaped floor plan, terrazzo floors, George Nelson bubble lamp. Perfection. Floor-to-ceiling windows look onto an enchanted forest backyard. The brick wall of the living room starts outside and flows right in through the glass.
Wouldn’t you love to wake up to this? No, I mean the view!!
The bedrooms have built-in vents below the windows. I had never seen these before, but Eric said the West Seattle house in which he grew up had them … they drove his dad nuts because they whistled in the wind.
The floating-stairs split-level entry, which, regrettably, we didn’t photograph, leads down to a long, narrow room that runs the width of the front of the house. With its ground-level windows, it would make a perfect art studio. Weeks later, I’m still thinking about this perfect little house.
What would you do if you had a gracious 1920s Dutch Colonial with a sunroom facing the street, natural mahogany trim, and a warm, traditional (if somewhat dark) interior? Worth a cool million or two?
You’d slash away the roof over the central staircase and replaced it with … glass!! Of course!!
The transformation is actually shocking. I was prepared to dislike what the architects did to this classic house, but oh, man, it’s spectacular!
The living room and dining rooms remain original, except for sunlight-emitting portholes and fresh, light-colored paint.
But that’s where tradition ends. The kitchen is sleek and new (hmm … should we have done that?). I’m a sucker for kitchen windows that meet the countertops, and that leafy view.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the wide-open NanaWall folding glass wall and the lovely courtyard beyond.
Upstairs, each of the kids’ bedrooms had cool lofts for the beds. No doubt a favorite feature for the kids, but I’d hate to be the mom who has to climb a ladder to change the sheets.
The grown-ups have a huge bedroom with a vintage-tiled fireplace.
I bet the neighbors find this bathroom interesting.
French doors flanking the fireplace let out onto a deck above the first floor sunroom. Holy cow, what a view! You could almost watch the UW Huskies play football from that deck! Do they know how lucky they are??
On a Magnolia Hill street lined with charming brick Tudors and manicured lawns, you’ll find a big boxy house of metal and glass. Peek-a-boo, see-through views and long sight lines made me want to run through its bamboo-floored halls as if it were a carnival fun house.
The living room’s green chair and pillows echo the green of the lawns outside.
The wild rug with its 3-inch wooly worms would hide our whole colony of cats! (How do they clean it?)
A view like this from the bedroom? Yes, please! We especially liked the asymmetrical layout of the windows.
But the north side of the house has only one window (the two women are standing opposite the front door).
Perhaps this explains it. Um … are we in Disneyland? Or Las Vegas? Click the photo to enlarge, if you dare. Extra points if you find the gargoyles. Yes, gargoyles. OMG.
I asked the owner how his Tudor neighbors felt about having a mod box on their street. “They don’t care,” he claimed, “Except for the guy behind us,” who now has a view of said box instead of Puget Sound. “What was here before you built this house?” I wondered. “Just a small Tudor,” he replied, implying it was a shack not worth saving. (There are no shacks on this magnificent street.) As impressed as I was with this modern masterpiece, the preservationist in me was put off by the arrogance of razing a classic Tudor and building a new house in its place. Were there no empty lots to be had on Magnolia Hill?
The next house also had been featured in The Seattle Times a few months back. At four stories (in the back), it was incredibly tall on its narrow lot. And it stretched from setback to setback, covering virtually the whole property … towering over a much smaller, abandoned-looking Queen Anne next door. (Maybe its owners didn’t want to live in the shadow of a skyscraper?)
I couldn’t see us living in such a house, with open stairs that went up, and up, and up to one bamboo floor after another—too much climbing for aging Babyboomers! Although the view from the top deck was expansive, the seven guys sunning themselves on their rooftop “beach” just didn’t resonate with me. Their stereo certainly did. I know … I’m no fun.
Our last stop was a small house built in the subdivided backyard of century-old home. I imagined this was a pretty nice backyard until a house popped up.
Turns out, the new house is a little gem. Polished concrete floors, oak plywood panels, full-length windows, and another pretty courtyard (I’m a courtyard fan, you can probably tell).
Or, did I like this house because of the cute kitty who ran from everyone else but befriended me? I had been away from my cats for hours and needed a kitty fix.
Again, I fell in love with the rooftop deck view. I know a view is not a house, but it certainly becomes part of the ambiance and the experience. I like a water view during the day and twinkling city lights at night. I like to see things going on. No water here, but lots of city. Click the composite photo to enlarge. On the left, the western end of I-90 (a freeway that runs from Seattle to Boston). In the dip between the hills, the arch is CenturyLink Field, home of our incomparable Seattle Seahawks. To the right is downtown. Whenever I drive this portion of I-90, I wonder what kind of neighborhood is up on this hill. Now I know … and I’m envious.
On the way home, we pondered: If we had a choice between a fabulous modern house with a killer view, or a houseboat on Lake Union, which would we pick? The houseboat, hands down. That would satisfy both my water and city view wishes, as well as being a quirky, arty place to live. Then it was back to reality … our valley bungalow with a union hall view, scratched fir floors, pet hair, peeling paint, weedy gardens, half-done projects.
But it’s home, and we’re lucky to live here.