Marie Antoinette, Big Hair and moi (Part I)

I’ve never particularly liked my hair. It is fine and of a dark reddish-brassy color. I can fix the color (as I do often) but I can only do so much with the lack of thickness. Root boost, thickening spray, Velcro rollers and backcombing helps, but only for a few hours. It ultimately grows weary and limp. The only lift I have is an enormous cowlick on the right side of my forehead. That area sticks straight up with no help at all. And it won’t lie down either – despite wind, rain, snow, humidity or even a bucket of water dumped on my head.

In grade school my mom would often put my long hair in two braids. Because my hair was so fine, I would always lose one of my ponytail holders by the end of the day. Somewhere on the play ground, or on the floor of a classroom or in the gymnasium was one of my lone plastic and elastic hair bobbles. It would just slip out and fall away. I would ask the teacher for some scotch-tape to hold my loose braid together.

After the original Star Wars movie came out in 1977, I desperately wanted to go as Princess Leia for Halloween. I wore my Dad’s white dress shirt which fell past my knees and tied a thick rope around my waist. I had my mom do my usual two braids, but then wrap each one around and around pinning them to the sides of my head. But my braids weren’t anything like the big, fat cinnamon buns like Princess Leia had. I had two dinky little nuts on either side of my head. I was embarrassed for myself and mad at my Mom for not making them look thick like Carrie Fisher’s. No one knew who I was that night as I rang doorbells for candy.

I’ve always wanted thick hair. I’ve mixed packages of gelatin with water and slurped it down, washed my hair with horse shampoo, and coated my thin, straight strands with all sorts of thickening sprays and creams. The only thing I have not tried is crimping it with an iron. A crimping iron makes me think back to 1989, torn Levi’s, Woo Woo shots and a particular ‘Guns ‘n Roses’ song... all with quite a bit of distaste. It also makes me think of more recent times wondering if Kelly Wearstler was trying to bring it back when she appeared on Top Design. I couldn’t crimp then and I still can’t now. So when I’ve read stories about characters -- real people or in fables -- with thick, glorious hair I’ve gotten… a little envious.


Most of us know about Queen Marie Antoinette (1755-1793). And we’ve heard about her penchant for big hairdos. Many of us can’t understand why she went to such measures to create tall and enormous dos. Though we may desire to have big bouncin’ and behavin’ hair, to go to the great lengths as the women of the court in the eighteenth century did is hard to understand. But we need to put this in historical context. Marie Antoinette's came to the spectacular and glitzy court created by the "Sun King" Louis XIV who had rebuilt Paris and Versailles as THE style centers earlier in the century. Under his reign, "couturière" was born. Women seamstresses were taken seriously and under the protection of a guild, they were allowed to create their own dreamiest of gowns. Some of these women were specifically sought out and recognized in Paris and became the first celebrity designers. Hairdressers as well. The Sun King encouraged luxury goods, fancy furnishings and the latest fashions, and this was to entrance Marie Antoinette.

Court of Versailles was always crowded with hairdressers, dressmakers, and milliners (much like stylists today), who exercised more influence than the King's Councilors. Big hair wasn’t anything new before Marie Antoinette discovered it. Although the Sun King was only about 5’-7” tall, he towered over six feet tall sporting with his high 6” heels and his tall coiffeur. Hairstyles in the early eighteenth century were big and high, so much so that Duc de Saint-Simon who resided for many years at Versailles complained that women's faces were now "in the middle of their bodies."

From very humble beginnings, came a dress designer and stylist named Rose Bertin. According to legend, when Rose was a small girl she would sneak food to a woman in prison who was a fortune teller. She told Rose that one day she would be very successful in life. After apprenticing as a milliner in Paris to Mademoiselle Pagelle, things quickly moved ahead for her, and she eventually became Pagelle's partner. In 1770, Rose opened a shop in Paris called The Grand Mogol filling it with all sorts of grand and gilded displays. Customers walked through the door and felt they were in a jewelry box. She quickly had customers, many among them were influential noble women at Versailles, who included many ladies in waiting to the new Dauphine, Marie Antoinette.

Rose’s style wasn’t limited to clothing; she worked with the court’s leading hairdresser, Monsieur Leonard, developing le pouf – the latest hairstyle. In 1774, when Rose Bertin was presented to Marie Antoinette by the Duchesse of Chartres, that is when the vogue for the big hair began.

(Top image from The Brat Pack Blog...)

I Think I Am That Bored

I woke up this morning anxious. As a gigantic pot of coffee was brewing, I peered out the window onto the balcony and into my flower box where two little baby birds were still snuggled alone. Early yesterday afternoon, as I typing away with a furrowed brow to finish a deadline, I glanced out the window and noticed the mother bird had left. (I also noticed that my flowers are dying since I haven't watered them in three weeks so as not to disturb the nest.) Hours passed and she still had not returned. We had new neighbors move in yesterday -- making quite a bit of noise. Could the mother have left out of irritation? Was she sick of her kids? Had she had enough of her life and left everything in search of greener pastures?

I stayed home last night, compulsively peeking through the wooden blinds to watch over the little babies. What could be so important to take a mother away from the nest with two little ones at home alone? Where was the father? There were no other mourning doves around to check on them. Years ago, when I first moved to Los Angeles, I stayed a couple months with my brother until I found a place of my own. There, on his balcony, a mourning dove had laid one egg. It hatched one day and the mother bird flew away never to return. It was excruciating to watch. I feared a similar situation.

It is amazing the thoughts we think and the feelings we feel through the skewed lenses of our personal experiences. We are sometimes quick to cast judgment and think we know what is best. This morning as I leashed Billy to go for our walk, I was doing just that. I was getting really perturbed. I wish there was a number for child protective services for mourning doves I could call, I told my husband. He sat quietly on the sofa blocking my view of his rolling eyes with a coffee cup. He didn’t read “Are You My Mother” as a little kid. That book is brutal.

I am relieved to report that nearly 24 hours later, the father has returned to the nest to care for the baby birds. The mother is still no where to be found. I cannot believe how attached I am to them -- little birds that, honestly, look similar to two hairballs some cat coughed up. I am really not that bored with my life -- just concerned with something I cannot control and avoiding a bunch of work I have to do all weekend. I am really overdue to have some fun...

Designer: Piet Boon

“Don’t build anything that you cannot design brilliantly; don’t design anything you can’t build. Believe in your own handwriting.” -- Piet Boon

Dutch furniture and interior designer, Piet Boon, is involved in every aspect of the design process. This is his design philosophy which functions as the catalyst and infiltrates all of his creations. He believes design must be well thought out. This is one reason why I love his work. As a trained designer, I have worked for a few designers who didn’t think the process through from concept to completion, and thereafter: What is the intension? What is the problem to be solved? Will the object work within the space? Will the materials hold up to the purpose?

Design does not simply mean “fashionable”, “chic” or “up-to-date”. Design is to be utilized. It is about the study of people and their environments. We exist in our environments; we need and use the objects within them. Design is about the relationship between people, their objects, and the space in which exist.

Piet Boon began his career as a building contractor and in 1982 established Piet Boon Studio just outside of Amsterdam. He teams with his wife, Karin, to run a design studio -- they have a team of architects and designers. Some of his latest projects include Delano Hotel in Las Vegas, and a hotel on St Barth.

He uses natural materials, sturdy design and durable products. He believes design must be timeless and last. I have a tendency to study designer’s furniture creations. Closely. Some of my favorites:

'Heit' Swivel Chair

'Kaat' Tables

But one design that has really caught my eye is his 'Hot Kroon' chandelier.

Creepy and unsettling.

But utterly fantastic!

Available in a 5-arm or 18-arm chandelier, black or white, the fixtures are covered with polyurethane. Each one is hand created and each one is different.



An action or a movement caught in a moment and suspended in time.

Rendering of Hof Van Saksen Restaurant

Hof Van Saksen Restaurant with the 'Hot Kroon' chandeliers.

Visit his site HERE. If you are drawn to his work, you will be memorized.


Top image title page of his most recent book from Amazon, the art work, I believe is by Rachel Lee Hovnanian, portrait photo from Nilson Beds, all remaining photos from his website, (two interiors of a NYC residence on 5th Ave).

Death of the Dumbwaiter

So it was called, and not insultingly either. In the early eighteenth century, came a piece of furniture that began as a luxury and then turned into a necessity. Dining was a more informal affair back then. People wanted to talk to each other while they were eating. Small rooms were designed for dining, followed by a vogue for little suppers with friends. Gone were the days of formal, rigid etiquette and ceremony. Ingenious little devices were invented to help promote this more intimate manner of feeding.

The dumbwaiter was invented sometime during the first quarter of the eighteenth century. They were so efficient and utilitarian that they played a major role in making dining a more friendly and simple affair.

Garth’s Auctions August 2007 offered up this mahogany dumbwaiter, circa 1760-1780. It has three graduated circular shelves, the lower two rotate; raised on tapered ring turned supports, tripod base with cabriole legs and pad feet.

The dumbwaiter has a central shaft that supported graduating circular trays; often these trays revolved. They were raised on a tripod base. Thomas Sheraton, one of the legendary English furniture designers, proclaimed the dumbwaiter to be, "A useful piece of furniture, to serve in some respects the place of a waiter, whence it [was] so named." The absence of a real servant was conducive to a more intimate dining. The dumbwaiter was usually placed at the corner of a dining table to store additional plates and cutlery. Maybe even a little pudding and cheese. After-dinner glasses and other dining accoutrements were placed on the stand.

Their popularity quickly spread to France. Louis XV adored his intimate dining affairs, because they enabled him to rub knees with the beautiful damsels he insisted to accompany him to dine.

Brunk Auctions, October 2002: An 18th century English mahogany dumbwaiter. Three tiers with molded edges, tripod base, original iron spider.

Thomas Jefferson was fond of them. He lived in France from 1784 to 1789 succeeding Benjamin Franklin as minister. Before returning to America, he packed up several dumbwaiters and transported them to his famous Monticello home in Virginia.

He preferred the dumbwaiters to be raised on small casters which could be wheeled about allowing his servants to swiftly and quietly bring food into the dining room without disturbing his conversations. The dumbwaiter would be placed (by one of his slaves) next to the edge of the table, where Jefferson and his fellow diners could serve themselves. So fond was Jefferson of the dumbwaiters that he had Philadelphia cabinet makers -- Joseph and Henry Ingle -- create even more in the 1790s.


Available at Florian Papp.

By that time, the dumbwaiter had become very popular in America. Woodworkers began to make more elaborate versions of the simple design that Jefferson had embraced. Gothic fretwork, leaf molding and curves of all kinds were used to decorate a piece. Early in the nineteenth century, marble was utilized for the trays. The marble kept bottles of wine deliciously cool, which diners appreciated. Sometimes the shelves were used as knife trays; sometimes holes were cut in the shelves which proved very handy for holding the bottles in place.

Wheathills in Derbyshire offers this George III mahogany folding top, two-tier dumb waiter with graduated swivel tiers on an urn-shaped column. Note the brass castors.

Circular trays were cut along a flat line to show off the fine quality of mahogany, usually imported from the Caribbean. The slightest of rims kept the wine bottles and glasses from tipping onto the floor. By Victorian era, the designs of dumbwaiters had become eclectic and idiosyncratic. Some had holes lined with tin to hold bottles and decanters.


Pook & Pook in January 2007 sold this Regency mahogany dumbwaiter with two dished tiers joined by brass columns, nice rope carved standard, raised on acanthus downward sloping legs terminating in brass casters.


The dumb waiter flourished and then it died off. It served its purpose and then for what ever reason it vanished. I remembered seeing a few here and there as a kid, tucked in a corner of a room kept for sentimental reasons. But no one seemed to ever use them. Do we ever see them today?

The Blue-Footed Booby and me

There was a time in my youth when I was a recent college graduate and moved to New York City. I barely made enough money to pay the rent on an extremely small apartment I shared with a friend. I worked for a few dollars a day as an assistant fact-checker for an art magazine. But I had a lot of friends there, many of whom I knew from college. Despite the high price of drinks in the bars (there were no quarter pitcher nights like I was used to at school), I had a very active and fun social life. For whatever reason, I was never short on male attention, until I moved there. And then I had quite a dry spell. I could not figure out why. Surely, I had done something wrong. Were my clothes not right? Was I not tall enough? Did I let my Midwestern drawl slip out too many times, I wondered. My confidence was low.

My father came back from the Galápagos some time when I was living in New York. He told me about the Blue-Footed Booby, a type of bird which is native to the area. The male boobies have a peculiar mating dance when they wished to catch the eye of a female. I was intrigued and needed to hear more. Perhaps, there was something I could glean from this. The males are very proud of their blue feet, my dad told me, which range in blue hues from pale turquoise to bright cobalt. Females tend to be attracted to the males with the brightest, bluest feet. Although, the females’ feet are also blue, they are not nearly as attractive as the males. This is very different than humans; usually we don’t want to look at men’s feet. We spend money paying others to scrub, rub, primp and polish ours.

But in order to catch a mate, male boobies flaunt their feet. When they find one of particular linking, they start out slowly lifting one foot and then the other. They move into a slow dance, of sorts, trying to capture the eye of their chosen affection. When they think they’ve almost sealed the deal, they will stamp their feet on the ground, flap their wings, throw back their heads and let out a whistling sound. This behavior, I thought at the time, was not very different than some loud drunken 22 year-old males I know. And that display, would surely send most sensible girls right out the door. One thing I liked about the boobies was that the males will bring females gifts -- housing materials to build a nest. These male boobies think ahead. They are not a seasonal reproducing species either, nor mate out of boredom or inebriation. They seize an opportunity when they see a female for whom they’ve taken a fancy. Surely attracted to her mind, male boobies were selective and indiscrete; I liked to think that too.

I needed to resort to a different tactic in my own personal life since I hadn’t been asked on a date months after moving to the city. I would try something similar as these booby birds. In those days, young women didn’t regularly go out to their local nail shop to get their toes painted like we religiously do today. But many of these places existed and I got mine all spruced up. Bright blue polish wasn’t an option, so I went for a bright hibiscus pink instead. That Friday night with my hair in a perfect flip (much like Kierin Kirby of Deee-Lite – think of the Groove is in the Heart video), I crossed town and met up with my friends for a little cheap bourbon and raspberry soda before we ventured out to plop down half a weeks earnings on alcohol at one of the latest and trendiest bars on the upper east side (look… I was young, it was the early 90s and this is what we did). It was late spring, I wore multi-colored strappy sandals with a reasonable heel, as we did in those days … 20-somethings wore reasonable heels. I would catch the eye of another young man here and there, and then I would gaze my eyes downwards as I fanned out my newly painted toes. If I sat, I would cross and uncross my ankles surely this would capture someone’s attention. This tactic simply did not work.

I certainly didn’t want an egg, I wasn’t looking for a mate, I didn’t even want a boyfriend. I was young, egotistical and believed everything my college commencement speech said: the world was my oyster. I was living in New York City a placed I had planned on since visiting early in my teen years, I was working for one of the best art magazines even though the staff there yelled all the time and I was starving and could barely afford peanut butter for dinner. I got to see my best friends from college regularly, but I was suffering from insufficient male attention. And this, I thought in my young, naïve and dramatic way, was devastating.

When I look back all these years later, I realize that year I spent in New York was pivotal. I had a fantastic opportunity that I alone created, but I ultimately couldn’t maintain. Though I was knocked down numerous times, it was a gamble I chose and it pointed me in the right direction. I didn’t understand the world at the time -- if you work hard, you will be rewarded -- were the words I was raised on. But I realized then this notion doesn’t hold true to for everyone. I wonder if I was wise enough at the age of 22 to set aside my petty pain and understand how life really worked, would I have had to take such a rough and long detour marred with bigger issues ahead.

Images from: Wikipedia; North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences; Natural Wildlife Federation; Anderson Free Press; The Travel Blog; Big Country Audubon;

AGAIN??? !

Just when we have a break in the weather, just when my flowers begin to burst, just when I got the balcony all gussied up, I return home to make cheese and green chili pepper stuffed top sirloin burgers on the grill, and look at what I find:

The mourning dove sitting on two more little eggs...

No grilling, no loud noises or sudden movements, and no swearing for the next three weeks as I watch my flowers wilt in this heavy Midwestern heat and hold my breath desperately hoping the two little eggs will hatch and the baby birds grow up healthy and well-adjusted and fly away...

Happy 4th

Heritage Auction Galleries, Dallas, Texas, June 7, 2006

Designer: Frank Ligthart - Obelisk

Inspiration comes from a variety and a surprisingly array of sources. We never know what will strike us. After all, E. L. Doctorow leaned back in his chair one day and stared at a patch of stain on the ceiling. From that single image, he created Ragtime.

Dutch-born designer Frank Ligthart was inspired by the ancient Neolithic standing stones of Carnac, France.

He created a set of furniture – four chairs and a table – with each piece on its own usable and interesting, yet harmonious when all fit together. It creates an 8'-0” tall sculptural structure by stacking four chairs and a table together in the form of an upright torpedo. He calls it Obelisk.

His Obelisk furniture is much more comfortable that the stones of France. While it may not last all those years, it is plenty durable. The fibers are woven by hand over lightweight and rustproof frames. It resists stains, ultraviolet light and bacteria.

It is also a space saver -- when stacked, the obelisk forms take up less than 4’-0” of floor space.

Yes? No? Maybe So? Would any of you place these furniture items on your patio in the back yard? Around a pool? Leave the obelisk structure in the corner of the yard when not in use?

Available in platinum as shown in the top images, but also in smoke. Janus et Cie carries this for Dedon for just a mere $7,870...

Designer: Bertha Schaefer (1895-1971)

Few women designed furniture during the inter war years. We all know Florence Knoll and Ray Eames. But many of us have not heard of Bertha Schaefer. She designed furniture along side some pretty big names.

Schaefer began as an interior designer -- an acceptable vocation for a woman because at that time women were recognized as having a natural instinct for the placement of color and objects. After all, it was only natural. Planning, spatial relationships and mathematics, it was believed, would only strain their heads. This was something reserved for the male domain. Bertha Schaefer designed alone, she didn’t have any husband to partner with who could help expose her talents and skills.

Bertha Schaefer expanded the definition of decorator to designer. She then expanded the definition of designer to innovator. She was pioneer in integrating fine and applied arts with interior design. She owned businesses and an art gallery. She created her own furniture designs and had them mass produced.

Treadway, September 10, 2006: Schaefer's Dining Table, manufactured by Singer, 1950s, round walnut top raised on four tapered legs, original finish. Realized - $800

Born in 1895 in Yazoo City, Mississippi to Emil and Julia (Marx) Schaefer, she grew up there with a sister and a brother. They lived in a house designed by their father that was traditional by no means. This was to have an effect on her decision to study interior design. Schaefer obtained a B.A. from Mississippi State College for Women. After a stint working in the statistics department in Washington, Schaefer returned to Mississippi. She felt different than the other girls there and wanted to escape the dusty hot Mississippi roads. Schaefer left for New York to attend the two year interior design program at Parsons School of Design. After graduating she headed to Paris for five months. When she returned to NYC, she landed a job with Helen Criss, interior designer, who couldn't keep her long for financial reasons. So in 1924, she opened her own business: Bertha Schaefer, Interiors.
Treadway Toomey, September 14, 2008 – realized $800: Bertha Schaefer coffee table, produced by Singer & Sons, travertine top raised on walnut base with six sculptural curved supports, signed with paper label.


She designed interiors for private homes, apartments, hotel lobbies and restaurants. Although she designed and altered pieces of furniture here and there, her design emphasis, actually, was on lighting. She believed in functional and economical lighting fixtures. By 1939, she was one of the first to use fluorescent lighting in residential applications. By 1954, she was tackling a model bathroom for General Electric and designed the interior of Temple Washington Hebrew Congregation. But it was this functional and economical way of living that she employed in her furniture designs.

Sold at Rago, October 28, 2007 and also in April of 2007 both for $2,400, Schaefer for M. Singer & Sons. Italian walnut.

In the 1940s, her interests turned to Contemporary art. She was eager to put into action the idea that art should not be chosen based upon the idea that it matched with the décor. In fact just the opposite, she believed one should choose a painting first and then build the room around it. In 1944, she opened the Bertha Schaefer Gallery of Contemporary Art. There she featured fine art, sculpture and furniture.

She was a proponent of the German Bauhaus School and believed that economical designs could possess both craftsmanship as well as beauty. Her gallery was an arena to exercise her ideas and in 1947, she curated a series of exhibitions titled “The Modern House Comes Alive”. She debuted what she considered to be the American counterpart to the European movement.

Sold for $4,800 at Sotheby’s NYC December 9, 2005. Currently available at Red Modern Furniture.

Her furniture designs caught the eye of Joe Singer of M. Singer and Sons Furniture Company in New York City. He liked Schaefer’s ability to marry fine arts with commercial arts, which she displayed in her furniture designs and in her gallery. In November of 1951 during a week-long trade show, Schaefer debuted fifteen furniture pieces along side twenty-one pieces by ground-breaking Italian designers such as Gio Ponti, Carlo Mollino, Carlo de Carli and Ico Parisi. With the introduction of their designs came a new influence in furniture design in America. Modern furniture was perceived as cold and aseptic, some even called it sterile. But Schaefer, by herself, had gone a step beyond functionalism and provided interest to the viewer with her beautifully molded wooden forms.

Available at 20th Century Interiors.

Schaefer continued to design modern furniture for Singer from 1950 to 1961 and often co-designing with Gio Ponti. Many of her design forms predate her introduction to these Italian designers. It is interesting to note that her furniture items sell for considerably less compared to these other names – (though Carlo Mollino blows everyone out of the water.) American and not Italian, yes. Name recognition, not as well known. Trained as an interior designer and not an architect, true. Items she co-designed with Gio Ponti go for more. But why isn’t she as well known for her furniture designs? I don’t know enough to provide an answer. Any thoughts out there?

This poison will linger in all our veins even when, the fanfare returning, we are delivered again to the old disharmony. Oh, we now so worthy of such tortures, let us fervently grasp this superhuman promise made to our created bodies and souls: this promise, this madness!

~ Rimbaud

'Drunken Morning’

From Les Illuminations

I’m rebounding from the echoes of last night. Non-stop I had to work, hour after hour, day after day, for weeks I labored over my computer. I had an enormous project to turn in which had been weighing heavily on my mind since the start of the year. In the wee hours of each night, I would waddle to bed stiff from the permanent C-shape my body had formed as I hunched over my old, outdated laptop. My hand developed the form of a claw that ached from hours and hours each day grasping my mouse. At night, I was barely able to hold a toothbrush to drag it across my teeth. And when I finally completed the project, I didn’t take time to celebrate. I had baskets of laundry to do and tumble weeds of dog fur to clean which had collected underneath the furniture from three weeks of neglect. I was also overdue making dinner for my understanding husband. It seemed a good idea to open a few bottles of wine while I tackled these tasks. So I began to sip the dark red contents of my glass and felt it slide past my throat and into an empty and growling stomach while I stuffed the chicken breasts with a particularly tasty Caribbean recipe.

As I cooked I sipped and my shoulders began to lower. They had been at the level of my ears for some time. My back was in less pain. I felt circulation in my legs again. By my third glass, I let out a few giggles. By the fourth glass, I recall myself shrieking in laughter at “Kathy Griffin My Life on the D List” which ran in the background. And by the end of the bottle, I decided to take my dog for a midnight walk. I believe at this point I was skipping down the street and humming a tune, my kitchen apron still on. My dog and I decided to take a detour through a neighbor’s yard running through their sprinklers.

It was hot out last night. The steamy air was too stagnant for even insects to fly through. We needed to cool ourselves off. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Poets such as Baudelaire and Rimbaud believed in the “disarrangement of the senses”-- a practice which would inhibit the natural filtration and categorization of information we are methodically taught how to do in school. They did this with the aid of alcohol (and later music performers such as John Lennon and Jim Morrison exercised this through other types of chemicals….). Although I am a believer in the deconstruction of information and finding one’s own methods of relaxation, I am sorry I didn’t stop after my second glass.

I never finished cleaning the floors last night and I am having difficulties completing that task today. My eyelids are as heavy and gritty as sandbags and my brain feels like a dried nut rattling noisily against the insides of my head. My skin dry, my hair flat and my tongue thick. But the worst of all is that I am guilt ridden. I have wasted time today too worthless to do much. I have more work due and I have put people off. I didn’t even benefit from an evening out spending time with friends. Instead I cooked, drank, walked my dog then lost my head. Not a morsel of significance to the evening. The after effects of alcohol are unfair, but it certainly feels so right at the time.

Architect: Mary Rockwell Hook (1877-1978)

Mary Rockwell Hook once described a troubling time in her early years when she was studying at the École des Beaux-Arts. After class, she had to run as fast as she could to a taxi as she dodged buckets of water being thrown at her by disgruntled male students. She was the only girl in her class, and the second American female to attend after Julia Morgan. The year was 1906.

This hostile gender bias wasn’t anything new. Previously, she studied at the Art Institute of Chicago, the only female in her class she experienced similar behavior. Some parents thought that young men could not learn to their full potential with a young woman present. Many parents wanted their money spent on a solid education for their sons. The fairer sex was much too distracting, it was thought. This theory still holds true today by some parents. But a more prevalent theory was that architecture was a male domain and considered no place for a lady.

The house she designed for her parents. 1908. It was the first home in the area to have a built-in garage. The city didn't know what to do with this. It conflicted with regulations, so she had to put in a fire-proof steel garage door which still exists today. The house originally had outdoor porches which have since been enclosed.

Upon Mary Rockwell Hook’s return back to the United States, she applied for a job with an architecture firm. They turned her down because of the simple fact that she was a female, and they didn’t want to watch her climb all over life-sized models. But MRH was not intimidated. She was driven and had the support of her family behind her. Another architecture firm did accept her, but her father did not like the idea of Mary working for a salary. Aware of her well-trained solid skills, he commissioned her to design their family home in Kansas City. It was here where she launched a prolific career as one of Kansas City’s most innovative architects and became a pioneer among professional women.

One of my favorites. I went to a small school in this area and when I had to around the hilly neighborhood for soccer or field hockey practice, I used to admire it.

She did have a number of things in her favor. Born on September 8, 1877 in Junction City, Kansas, she was the third of five daughters, (sandwiched between Florence, Bertha, then Catherine and Emily). Her parents insisted on the highest standards of education. She graduated from Wellesley in 1900 and her father’s successful business in banking and grain elevator business allowed for Mary to travel widely.

I’m partial to her houses. Mrs. Blandings introduced MRH a number of months ago, of course presenting the story of MRH very well. I am attracted to MRH’s designs for her open floor plans mixed with a little bit of the unpredictable. Although her designs are asymmetrical, there is something incredibly harmonious and balanced about them. Older houses in Missouri have always possessed a quirky twist. Mid-western architects provided their own interpretations on East coast designs with a dash of European idiosyncrasy. MRH did just that. But each one of her homes has a well thought-out spatial plan with interesting, unique appointments.

I am of the belief that a woman is -- if living with the opposite gender -- truly the head honcho of the home. She is the one, no matter how progressive the relationship is, who is ultimately responsible for a well-ordered home. Therefore, it makes sense to me that she would have invaluable insight of the structure, the circulation patterns, storage space and light. No one knows the flow of the house better than the one who is responsible for maintaining it.

The house she designed for herself where she lived with her husband who she wed at the wise age of 44.

Many types of female birds are in charge of the construction of the nest. She is the one who decides the location. She has her chicks to think about. She knows that she needs to build her nest on a sturdy branch. She knows she needs protection from the weather and from predators. She delegates to the male about gathering twine and twig of all sizes. It is the mother bird who stays behind to manage construction and place every piece with astounding accuracy.

So, I applaud Mary Rockwell Hook. She is one of Kansas City's pioneer mother birds. She was one of the country’s first architects, and formed an architectural partnership with Eric Douglas Macwilliam Remington. She worked throughout the United States – from Colorado to a sandy key off the coast of Florida. She was the first to use cast-in-place concrete walls. Many of her aeries can be seen in the Sunset Hills around Loose Park. MRH used recycled materials such as a slate roof from an old church, and thick beams from abandoned railroad bridges. She liked to juxtapose the rough with the elegant. She combined stone and brick with tall broad windows conscious of bringing the outdoors inside. She wasn’t afraid of much and took risks. She even was known to construct small platforms or stages in various rooms throughout houses for an occasional and impromptu piece of theatre. I think in her own words Mary Rockwell Hook describes her work best, "Houses should be fun".

Mary died on her birthday 101 years after her birth.

My apologies featuring the houses from afar. All photos by me from my camera as a lurker on the streets.