At last meeting, we had assembled for unpardonable diversion and it was divine. Veiled Mystique! Intrigue! The Hidden House on the Hill! We couldn’t help but obsess in our growing group of detectives. Cloaked in dark tweed and a good deal of
Tag: District 66
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A little birdie has once again tipped me to goings-on along Pacific Street in the mysterious 85th to 87th vicinity. I had written about the real estate development scheme involving the razing of seven Mid-century Modern ranches and older trees
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I have always felt that winter was the absolute best time of year for house spying, what without all of the beautiful, interfering foliage, the disturbing undergrowth, the distracting flowers, all forms of plant life that normally wink and
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If one had been in the desperate habit of falling deeply in love with unattainable brick English country homes, the great beauty settled at 1111 South 90th Street would have long ago proposed a perilous catch. I say perilous only because loving
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I will admit, I have an obsession with cobblers and tailors. These craftsmen’s workrooms were occasionally visited on Saturday errands when I was young and from those brief but memorable interactions, it was their particular scent that
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A little bird had tipped me to the soon-to-be demise of seven homes on Pacific Street extending from 84th to 87th. –that strip of mostly classic ranches on the south side, leading down to the lights at Countryside Village and Westside
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Between you, me and the postman, I should have rang that doorbell when I had the chance. The shake shingle and stone cottage was a New England Classic. Any beady-eyed lingerer could see, 10805 Poppleton Avenue was the Real Deal Mystery disguised
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There is a part of town that someday might be the death of me. If not wholly consumed by its beauty, hopefully of pleasant equivalence. On this Mr. Cassette and I agree: the wandering country lanes in and around Westside High School possess us.
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Long ago I accompanied my grandmother on a magical visit to the Swanson Towers, off of 84th Street. 8405 Indian Hills Drive, for those among us who require exactness. My grandmother was paying a call to a rather chic galpal and truthfully, this
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I spent one of the happiest mornings of recent memory lounged on a chaise of Mr. Cassette’s family lake house dock, watching. Turned toward the beach, I lazily gazed as Mr. Cassette was bending down over the sand, head hanging and with quick,