I love the contrast in this villa between the more private spaces, which are housed in a brutalist concrete structure, and the more public spaces, which sit on top and are housed in minimalist glass box that is reminiscent of the Farnsworth House.

All of this was done in order to maximize views of the surrounding mountains from this upper floor. But it also creates a certain lightness within the next landscape. And I'm sure that the views out are that much better after emerging from such a contrasting space below.

Located to the southwest of Madrid, the villa was designed by Spanish architect Alberto Campo Baeza in 2000. It's called the Casa de Blas and it's currently on the market for €850,000. Listing information over here.

But I would also encourage you to check out some of the firm's other work. It's absolutely magical. One of my favourites is the House of the Infinite, which was designed in 2014 and, in my mind, shares some similarities with the above villa.

In both the Blas House and the House of the Infinite, the rooftop spaces feel like everything. In some ways, they have been privileged over almost everything else. And so instead of wanting to be inside the houses, the architecture seems to pull you toward wanting to be on top of them.

Image: ArchitectenWoning

"Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler." I'm not exactly sure who this quote is attributed to -- maybe Einstein -- but regardless, I love it. I'm a big fan of simplicity.

I have a cookbook in my kitchen by Jamie Oliver where each recipe contains no more than 5 main ingredients. There's a picture of the 5 ingredients, a picture of the final product, and a short explanation about how to make it. It's my favorite cookbook (and also my only cookbook).

When I go to a restaurant I prefer to see a short menu rather than a long menu. Not only because it's easier to make decisions that way, but because I have little confidence that a restaurant with an interminable menu can make that many terrific dishes all at once.

And in architecture school, I remember being taught that every design project should really only have one principal idea. If you have two ideas, that's probably one too many. Distill it down. Clarify the idea that you're trying to communicate.

Because here's the thing about simplicity: it's usually more work to make things as simple as possible, but not simpler. It takes effort. It takes iterations. Whether that be in cooking, design, or in writing.

But once you've got it, simplicity is a beautiful thing. And it also greatly increases the chance that somebody will actually remember the message that you're trying to get across. Five ingredients. A short menu. And one architectural idea. That's all it might take.

Photo by Jakub Dziubak on Unsplash

Fashion, like architecture, says a lot. It is, according to Wikipedia, an "aesthetic expression at a particular time, place and in a specific context." So it's interesting to consider how fashion might translate, and not translate, around the world. This recent article by The Economist, called "The United Nations of Uniqlo," offers up one comparison, albeit a generalized one, between Japanese and American clothing preferences. (It's an article about the Japanese fashion label Uniqlo.)

Japan:

At first glance there seems nothing obviously Japanese about Uniqlo’s wares. But a strong strain of minimalism pervades Japanese culture. Buddhism remains an important influence on Japanese society even in an increasingly secular age, and among its core tenets are renunciation and detachment – concepts that mean being able to suppress one’s lust for the material elements of daily life. Mario Praz, an Italian critic, contrasts the Japanese style with the suffocating abundance of Victorian interiors in Europe and America which, he says, stemmed from horror vacui (fear of emptiness). More recently, young people in the West have also grown less enamoured with acquiring stuff, hence the widespread popularity of another Japanese export: Marie Kondo, a professional declutterer.

America:

The American market has proved harder to crack. The 56 Uniqlo stores in America fall far short of Yanai’s plan, in 2012, to open 200 there. They still operate at a loss. “When you think about the American market, you don’t always think of subtlety,” said Steve Rowen of Retail Systems Research, a consultancy. “This is a social-climber society. Even if you want to fly under the radar, there still has to be some indication that you’re fashion forward.” Once that urban millennial with a starter job begins to make real money, Rowen postulated, “they move past a brand like Uniqlo pretty quickly.” Americans are perhaps willing to embrace invisibility only until they are rich enough to want to be seen.

You could probably also fashion a similar argument around housing preferences. The Japanese are known for their minimalist houses, as well for completely different views on housing in general. But we shouldn't forget that good minimalism is expensive. Remember: "Only the rich can afford this much nothing." Maybe that's what Uniqlo needs to do in America. The problem is that its nothingness isn't expensive enough.