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Al-Ahram Weekly 7 - 13 October 1999 Issue No. 450 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 7 - 13 October 1999 Issue No. 450
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Interview Features Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters The taste police
By Fayza Hassan
The gentleman sitting in my office is furious. What are we doing to Cairo? he is shouting. Why are we building these horrors? Who said that we needed neo-Art Deco buildings in electric blue and magenta?
The gentleman is a renowned architect, and he is accusing the media of encouraging, or at least silently condoning, the corruption of our architectural style. He launches into the history of architecture in Egypt, going through the Pharaohs, the Mamelukes and the Ottomans at top speed, to conclude by listing several eyesores which now dot the Cairene landscape. "This is irreparable damage," he says. "How could you let this happen?" I feel that he holds me personally responsible for the pink plastic balconies and the technicolour window frames. "Maybe people like it this way," I say lamely. "They do, this is precisely the problem, and our duty is to guide them," is his terse rebuttal. "We should teach people to put their money in good plumbing, sound electrical wiring and first-class building materials, instead of wasting it on faux marble and Italian cornices which reflect nothing but ignorant snobbism. Simplicity is the key word," he emphasises, banging vigourously on my desk. "When Mohandessin was built in the '60s, people had the right idea. They wanted simple villas with a small garage in a relatively large garden. They did not demand palatial accouterments in a middle-class setting. No stucco Greek statues adorned their foyers, no mock fountains decorated with golden frogs sat in their front yard."
My visitor is now engaged in the description of an apartment he recently decorated. The newlyweds had accepted his idea of minimal wood furniture, made to measure, but the bride's mother had been horrified. How could her daughter get married properly without a three-piece imitation Louis XVI salon and a dining room with assorted buffets? What would people say? My disgruntled friend adds that the young couple, having given in, are now the proud owners of two tiny reception rooms filled to capacity with over-stuffed, over-veneered furniture which they only use when they have visitors, according to the accepted custom.
The frustrated architect describes fantastic palaces which are being erected, practically as we speak, in the middle of the desert. There is urgency in his voice. "These people should be stopped at any cost," he says, looking at me rather ferociously. I suggest a tribunal where the owners and designers of architectural aberrations would be tried and condemned to pay hefty fines which would be put to good use in the construction of dwellings for the poor, but my caller is not amused. "One day, the poor will no longer be poor," he insists, "and when they think of building themselves a house, their ambition will be to emulate the absurdities that are displayed throughout the country at present; consequently, people's taste will never improve. What we need is strong action. We have to denounce the perpetrators of these crimes for what they are. There should be laws punishing those who are deprived of an aesthetic vision."
I must say that I am rather in favour of such a fascist attitude. It is the one we have always used in my family to impress upon each other our own concept of beauty. Brutal honesty has often, we think, preserved us from major faux pas. Such sweet nothings as "this dress looks like a potato sack on you," or "remove that ghastly lipstick at once," spoken in an authoritarian manner, have gone a long way to earn us a reputation of understated elegance. Maybe one should use the same methods with architectural offenders. There is a great big compound in a disgraceful pistachio green which has marred our street since its construction, over a year ago. I have always planned to stop by and tell the occupants that this hue is only suitable for a third-rate brand of ice-cream. I could begin to gather my courage and let them know what I think of their colour scheme. On the other hand, if I start on this corrective course, I might as well pay a visit to the owners of the yellow false Art Deco apartment building disfiguring the Corniche, then to those of the one with the turquoise metallic windows. Next on my list is the Maadi Grand Mall, our very own pink elephant. Who knows, maybe if we put enough effort into it, we may succeed in stopping or at least slowing down all the well-meaning architects and decorators bent on "modernising" the Cairene suburbs -- in other words, transforming them into a cheap copy of Disneyland.
