A Summer To Aspire

When I was very young (probably too young to be dreaming these kinds of things but then there you have it: I was one precocious little tow-head), I used to dream of the place I would call “home” after I had become an adult. Fueled by a combination of my own bizarre imagination and a wide variety of literature, television series, and films that depicted the personal living spaces of my favorite protagonists, I always dreamed of living high above a city, in a single room, made cozy by the presence of large, heavy bookcases filled to overflowing, comfortable furniture just begging to be inhabited by myself or others, and, usually, a black baby grand Steinway. I always thought of it as my haven, the place I aspired to live in that would always greet me with warmth and comfort at the end of my days doing…well, whatever my imagination at the time decided I was doing during those days. I never did assume it was in any other city than Chicago, due mostly I think to the vision of a water view outside of its floor-to-ceiling windowpanes. And, oddly, I never did imagine any other person inhabiting it with me, unless one were to count the lone feline I always imagined meeting me at the door when I would enter.

It is only recently that those dreams have returned.

It is only recently that a lot of things have returned: to my imagination, to my daily activities, to my life, both present and future. Like pursuing and nurturing my own taste in music, and discovering new artists that I like, versus parroting the musical tastes of whomever I happened to be closest to at the time. Like spending my mornings researching what really excites me on the Internet; not only design and writing and books and film and gossip, but technology, extreme sports, and architecture, as well. Like smiling when something I do come across in my online research makes me remember that apartment dream of mine from long ago, and my old love for and pride in my hometown.

My del.icio.us bookmarks tell me that I came across the website for The Chicago Spire a little over a week ago, and I remember gasping sharply when I first saw it, incredulous that I had been so wrapped up in my own life, drama, and depression over the past year that I had not even realized that its construction was occurring…in my hometown. I spent over an hour on the site and on others, devouring information on the project, the architect, the inspiration. Everything about it made me…happy.

Several days later, in a weekend catch-up chat with my old college friend Remington in New York, he mentioned a recent meeting with his landscaper for his property upstate. “Oh my God, Darling,” I drawled, “listen to you! You sound so…adult!” We laughed. Three months ago I would have carelessly rattled off something very Carrie Bradshaw-esque regarding renting versus owning property and how I would “always be a renter.” But this time I actually felt a twinge of jealousy. Despite Remington’s remark that “landscaper” was actually code for “gay guy with garden store,” I couldn’t help but feel as if I wanted something like that to care about in my life. Certainly not landscaping and living green things; Lord knows I kill everything like that. But definitely something more permanent, more stable, and…all about me.

So I decided to make a little (actually, it’s not so little at all, since I inquired as to the unit pricing earlier today) goal for myself: that I would be living in my own unit in The Chicago Spire by the end of the next five years, or 2013. I’ve seen anywhere from 2010 to 2012 as a completion date for the project, so I figure that 2013 will be a good year during which to plan on taking up residence in the nature- and Le Corbusier-inspired tower on The Lake, to give myself a very special gift of thanks for allowing all of these great things to return to my life, and to see that long-ago childish apartment dream of mine…finally come true.

It’s fitting, then, that in the city that invented the skyscraper, Santiago Calatrava’s breathtakingly audacious, 2,000-feet, 150-floor, spiraling candy cane Chicago Spire will rise to completion in 2011, dwarfing all that’s gone before, becoming at once North America’s tallest free-standing structure and, with 1,200 über-luxe condos, the world’s tallest all-residential building. It’ll make Uncle Donny and his Trumpettes’ hybrid condo-hotel-teleconference-mall, the new Trump International Hotel & Tower, on the river, look like chopped liver. Sorry, Donald, catch you later. — Grant Thatcher, “Deeply Dishy,” Vanity Fair, April 2008.

I can’t think of a more fitting description of a future address, and home, of Atherton Bartelby.

The Chicago Spire | Exterior rendering, from website.

The Chicago Spire | Interior rendering of “Suite” floor plan, from website.

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