ivory tower

the smith tower used to be the tallest building west of the mississippi...

and every day from our playground (which is very fancily situated on the roof) i get to look at it. it's always been one of my favorite buildings in seattle, and i love it more every day. it's no longer the tallest; in fact, it's practically dwarfed by the sky scrapers that now make up our skyline.

but it's beautiful, and the closer you get, the more tiny and intricate details you can find on its structure. it's one of my favorite things about old architecture: the idea that something you can only see when you're close-up (even the smallest egg-and-dart) is just as important as the silhouette the building leaves in the sky.

not to mention, it holds for me a plethora of irreplaceable memories: in the third grade, we went there on a field trip. i felt like the princess i was meant to be when i got to sit in the wishing chair (yes, there is such a thing as a wishing chair!) in the chinese room. all of the beautiful and ornate furniture in the room was a gift from the empress of china (yes, there is such a thing as an empress!), and there's some legend about sitting in the wishing chair and getting married... but it seemed to take a little longer for me. either way, it reminded me of old hollywood. there is something about an unbridled display of opulence that never ceases to intoxicate me.

and then there was the day that jacob and i invented "bananniversary," a celebration six months between your anniversaries, so that you can squeeze in yet another opportunity for love and presents. we went as high as they'd let us in the smith tower, and the elevators are old and golden and have latticed doors, so that you can see every single floor as you go up. sometimes you see offices, sometimes you see vacant rooms that look like they ought to have "private detective" signs hung on their entries, sometimes you see the tiny white tiled floors. later, searching for the bathroom, we found ourselves in an austere stairwell that clearly wasn't meant for us, heard footsteps down the hall, and took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss before we booked it out of there like scared teenagers.

and then there's the fact that the smith tower even gets in the holiday mood. at the very top, it has a beautiful light that glows blue as soon as the sun goes down (sometimes if i'm at work late enough or if it gets dark early enough i get to see it close up), except in december, when they change it to green.

such a lovely thought. it's all in the details.

love,
j

ps. when double checking to make sure that it really was the tallest building west of the mississippi, not just a legend of my mother's, i also learned this: since its construction in 1914, it has only had to be washed once because it just stays incredibly clean. magnificent.