Octavia Casa: La Condesa’s Chic New Boutique Hotel

A minimalist and modern retreat in one of CDMX’s most vibrant neighborhoods, Octavia Casa provides a tranquil sanctuary. 

Duke stands in front of the teak screening that covers the façade of the small boutique hotel.

When Wally and I decided to plan our second trip to Mexico City, aka CDMX, we agreed that we wanted to stay in La Condesa, the leafy green, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood where the city’s Art Deco movement was born. 

We love to stay in small, stylish hotels where we get to know the staff, and I was pleased to discover Octavia Casa. It’s location is ideal; it’s within walking distance of Parque México and Avenida Amsterdam, which was once a horse racetrack and is now home to numerous trendy shops and restaurants. 

The gravel courtyard off the entrance where we had breakfast

A Fashionable Place to Stay

The modern boutique hotel is an extension of Octavia, the contemporary women’s wear fashion brand launched in 2015 by Mexico City-based designer and creative director Roberta Maceda. 

When Maceda decided to venture into hospitality, she collaborated with architect Pablo Peréz Palacios and his firm PPAA (Pérez Palacios Arquitectos Asociados). Peréz Palacios thoughtfully drew inspiration from the eponymous label to create a unique hospitality experience. 

Upon arrival, we stepped out of the car and onto Avenida Amatlan. I was struck by the textures and shadows that were filtering sunlight through the teak lattice screen covering the façade of the hotel. At street level, lush tropical vegetation including monstera and jasmine add an organic element that pairs with the concrete and glass structure beneath. 

Beyond is the lobby, a space for rest and relaxation. A bronze rack holds a small collection of dresses from Octavia and a stone vase with dried magnolia leaves sits atop a circular concrete table by interior design studio Habitación 116 paired with a couple of Pierre Jeanneret Chandigarh office chairs. 

Octavia Casa’s lobby is really more of a foyer, making visitors really feel like they’re staying in a home.

The hotel’s chic minimalist aesthetic is inspired by Octavia, the women’s wear label run by the owner. A few of her dresses are on display in the lobby.

Around the corner the “lobby” continues into a communal open-air patio covered in pea gravel, which creates a zen ambiance. 

The staff described the open-air space as a continuation of the lobby.

You can see the stucco work on the wall — a technique that’s been around since the Ancient Maya.

The ingenious and well-designed interior staircase, which Wally referred to as Escheresque, ascends and descends from the ground floor to the rooftop in 90-degree turns. 

The sleek concrete stairwells looked to Wally like something out of an M.C. Escher drawing.

The scent of lilies filled the air.

A Modern Mix of Materials

A cohesive palette of muted neutrals are featured throughout Octavia Casa, anchored by refined natural and sustainable materials such as stone, wood, rattan and textiles. Interior walls are finished in chukum, a traditional and environmentally friendly Ancient Mayan stucco technique extracted by twice boiling the thorny tree’s bark. The resulting spaces are airy and bright, as well as rich, textured and welcoming. 

Reeded glass catwalks add yet another interesting visual element.

Each of the seven rooms are named after a natural element or material, such as Earth, Ochre, Bronze and Jute. We stayed in the Lino suite, the only room on the third floor, with balconies overlooking the interior courtyard and Avenida Amatlan. 

Wally does one of his jumping shots — and in a hotel as amazing as this, who can blame him?

A Sweet Suite at Octavia Casa

Our suite felt like an elegantly appointed residence and we immediately felt at home. 

The king-size bed, with linens by Octavia Casa’s homeware line, was luxurious and welcoming — especially after days spent exploring sites and the neighborhood, which had so many things to see that I feel like we barely scratched the surface. The Lino suite is also only one flight from the rooftop terrace, an oasis that provides views of the surrounding neighborhood. 

The Lino suite at Octavia Casa

A quiet nook near the balcony that overlooks the interior courtyard

The property doesn’t include a restaurant. However, they do offer a breakfast buffet in the ground-floor courtyard. We opted to do this for a few days and it included Nespresso coffee, baguettes, brie, seasonal fresh fruit, juices, jams by Rosetta, yogurt, croissants and conchas, a traditional Mexican sweetened bread roll with a crunchy topping. I was mildly obsessed with the handmade bowl-shaped mugs, and when I asked where they were from, one of the staff members, Fedra, kindly provided the name of the shop: Templo. (Incidentally, Fedra makes a mean latte.)

Fresh fruit, yogurt and bread are on offer at the breakfast buffet.

How we started every day

The coffee and espresso mugs Duke was obsessed with

In the evening the lobby transforms, illuminated by candlelight, with libations on offer, from local mezcals and tequilas to a selection of wines available for purchase. 

The personnel, including Raúl, Fedra and Luis, were genuine and friendly and took the time to make Wally and I feel welcome with every encounter. Thoughtful gestures such as a complimentary bottle of red wine for my birthday and offering the guest lounge on the ground floor when we anxiously took our on-site COVID tests, arranged by Octavia Casa, before flying home. Another employee, Silvia, reminded us of our favorite Spanish teacher, Mariú, and was a delight the entire time. She gave me a big hug on my birthday as again when we left. 

The staff at Octavia Casa gave birthday boy Duke the special treatment.

We found Octavia Casa to be a unique and unpretentious accommodation. (And so did Natalia Lafourcade, one of Mexico’s most famous singers, who stayed there at the same time as us and had the staff all aflutter.) It’s the perfect place to wake up and return to after each day’s adventures. If you’re planning a trip to this magical city, look no further and book your stay here. –Duke

Pale concrete and teak pair with green plants and the blue sky, helping make Octavia Casa a tranquil retreat from the bustle of CDMX.

Octavia Casa
Avenida Amatlan 126
Hipódromo Condesa
Cuauhtémoc
06170 Ciudad de México, CDMX
Mexico

 

Barragán’s Mind-Boggling Torres de Satélite

Just outside of CDMX, the Satellite Towers seem to change shape before your very eyes.

“The towers make us look thinner!” Duke exclaimed.

When we first saw the Torres de Satélite (Satellite Towers), I must admit that I was not very impressed. Granted, we were speeding past them on the freeway to the northwestern suburb on the outskirts of Mexico City named, appropriately, Satélite (Merriam-Webster’s third definition of “satellite” being “a usually independent urban community situated near but not immediately adjacent to a large city”).

Seen from the freeway, the Torres de Satélite are cool but not overly impressive.

From one side, the towers look entirely rectangular, but — spoiler! — they’re not!

The five towers struck me as simple yet colorful rectangular sculptures rising into the sky. There didn’t seem to be much that was interesting about them.

But that was before we parked nearby and experienced them on foot. 

“What at first seemed to be rectangular structures reveal themselves to actually be triangular.

You walk on a bit, keeping your eyes on the ever-morphing shapes, and suddenly one of the towers looks entirely flat! ”

It’s fun tooling around in a bright orange-red Volkswagen bus.

Barragán Tour With the Traveling Beetle

One of my old coworkers had told me about Luis Barragán, and while I admired the clean lines and bright colors in the photos I saw of his works, I confess that I wasn’t fully appreciative of his supposed genius as an architect.

So I was happy to hear that Duke had booked us a half-day excursion to see some of Barragán’s projects just outside of Mexico City, through a tour group called the Traveling Beetle. A brief review:

Duke and Wally posing near their sytlin’ ride for the day

The cons: It’s definitely on the expensive side at $115 per person (that’s U.S. dollars, although keep in mind that the Mexican peso also uses the $ symbol). And, as cute as the vintage 1976 VW bus was to zoom around in, there weren’t any seatbelts. 

The pros: Everything else. 

Indeed, it’s no exaggeration when I say that I can thank our guide, Martín, in large part for my newfound appreciation of Barragán. His passion was contagious.

The architect who designed neighborhoods in the CDMX suburb of Cuidad Satélite hired Barragán to create an iconic, bold sculpture to impress visitors to the new development.

A Dramatic Entrance to Ciudad Satélite

Our first stop of the day was an exploration of the Torres de Satélite. We pulled into a parking lot just beyond them, which Martín described as one of the best-kept secrets of the area.

Barragán was hired to create an iconic entrance to the Ciudad Satélite, which was, at the time of the Torres de Satélite’s construction in 1958, a new community. Mario Pani, an architect known for modern megaprojects, designed the neighborhood and had been impressed with Barragán’s El Pedregal, gardens developed over lava fields. Wanting something that made a similar bold statement, Pani commissioned Barragán, who collaborated on the tower design with the artist Mathias Goeritz.

“It’s a piece of art,” Martín says, as we get out of the car and head toward the towers. “They’re in between sculpture and architecture.” 

The design of the Torres de Satélite was a collaboration with the Mexican artist Mathias Goeritz. This painting inspired Barragán to create the impressive monoliths.

The towers are in a concrete median in the middle of a bustling freeway, with commercial developments on either side. Note how Barragán ingeniously positioned the structures so their angles align at various vantage points.

The bright primary colors we see today weren’t the original hues, Martín informs us. Originally, the towers were painted in warm tones of ochre and orange. But when all eyes were on Mexico City for the 1968 Olympics, the city asked Barragán to refresh the palette. 

As can be seen in this vintage shot, the towers originally had a different color scheme. They were updated to coincide with the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City.

It’s a bit ironic that an architect known for his intense pops of color didn’t actually choose those colors himself. Barragán worked closely with the artist Chucho Reyes, who was the one who actually determined what colors to use. 

Barragán must have been pleased with the choice of primary colors, but Pani was not. In fact, the color scheme alteration caused the two architects to argue and part ways.

Are the towers rectangular? Triangular? Flat? Depends on where you’re standing!

The Optical Illusions of the Torres de Satélite

From afar, the towers look static — almost, I dare say, a bit boring. But then, upon approach, you see them transform into all sorts of dimensions and shapes. As you walk around the base of the towers, which range from 98 to over 160 feet tall, you’re constantly surprised: What at first seemed to be rectangular structures reveal themselves to actually be triangular. You walk on a bit, keeping your eyes on the ever-morphing shapes, and suddenly one of the towers looks entirely flat! 

Yet another optical illusion employed by Barragán was the use of forced perspective. The rows of bricks get smaller and tighter as they progress up each tower to evoke an increased sense of height.

Note the forced perspective — the horizontal lines get closer and closer as they near the top. This makes the tower look taller that it really is. The blue was chosen to match the sky.

The door at the base of the far tower is open, so I peek my head in. There isn’t anything impressive in there — it’s just an unfinished space with some maintenance tools scattered about in the thick layer of grime. Martín tells us he saw a homeless man seeking shelter inside one of the towers on a previous visit.

I was surprised to discover that the towers are open at the top. Birds flitted about inside. 

“Some people call them big birdhouses,” Martín continues. He points to the birdshit that covers the interior. “And that’s exactly what they are.”

The towers aren’t usually open, but we were able to peek inside one — and were surprised to discover that they’re open at the top.

Martín has us note how the towers cast shadows upon each other, creating additional ever-shifting lines, black shapes that mimic the malleability of the towers themselves. 

“Shadow was one of Barragán’s obsessions,” he explains.

The shadows that form shifting patterns on the towers were part of Barragán’s consideration in the design. He was always aware of the power of chiaroscuro.

Pretty much any picture of the towers could be considered modern art (at least that’s what Wally thinks).

Las Torres de Satélite ended up being but an appetizer on our tour of Barragán’s suburban works (with Cuadra San Cristóbal being the main course). They seem to defy the very laws of physics and are a great introduction to the brilliance of Barragán. –Wally

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Las Torres de Satélite can be combined with a tour of other Barragán works in the northwestern suburbs of Mexico City.

Torres de Satélite
Ciudad Satélite
53100 Naucalpan de Juárez
State of Mexico
Mexico

 

Marie Antionette, Fleas and the Origin of the Color Puce

A flea-ridden history of the strange hue, which varies from brownish purple to mauve.

Could this be the infamous dress that created the color puce?

It’s unlikely that you’ll ever find the color puce in a box of Crayola crayons. But did you know that Marie Antoinette, the last queen of France and sartorial rule-breaker, was responsible for starting a fashion trend inspired by the ignoble bloodsucking flea?

​​Reviled or admired, the Austrian-born dauphine seemed to spark strong emotions. After an initially warm reception, at a mere 14 years old, Marie Antoinette adopted extravagant tastes and frivolity that earned her a reputation as spoiled and vain. As a means of self-expression, the young queen ornamented herself in earnest with elaborate coiffures, plumage adornments and lavish attire. 

“ When Louis XVI was asked what he thought of his wife’s latest look, he replied, “C’est puce” — that is, flea-colored.

And so a new color was born.”

She also liked to pretend to be a shepherdess in her faux-rustic village, the Hameau, built near the Petit Trianon on the grounds of Versailles. The enclave included thatched-roof cottages and a functioning farm, complete with stables, a pig sty and a hen house, where she would retreat by herself or with intimate friends. 

Her legacy continues to influence and inspire creatives more than two centuries after her beheading by the French revolutionaries at the age of 37. The Netflix series Emily in Paris mentions the mythical origin story of the champagne coupe glass, purportedly modeled after Marie Antoinette’s perfectly proportioned breasts.

A portrait of Marie Antoinette by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

Let Them Dress Like a Flea

Like champagne, the color puce (pronounced pooce) is rooted in French history and culture. The term was coined in 1778 and has an interesting origin. It’s defined as a brownish purple color. The etymology, however, is far from enticing — its name is French for flea, a reference, one imagines, to the tiny vampiric parasite’s belly full of blood. 

In Revolutionary France, color played a major role in publicly announcing who you were and what side you were on. Marie Antoinette’s sartorial whims set trends and came to symbolize the excess of the royals. Her unapologetically voracious appetite for fashion and extravagance became the stuff of legends. 

According to the biography of Marie Antoinette’s dressmaker, Rose Bertin, the queen had a brownish purple dress made. When Louis XVI was asked what he thought of his wife’s latest look, he replied, “C’est puce” — that is, flea-colored. And so a new color was born.

Did King Louis XVI say Marie Antoinette’s dress looked like a flea because of the color of the insect, or the blood it sucks?

The Parisian bourgeoisie adopted puce in droves, as it was less cost prohibitive than lighter tints and hid stains well. The color was produced by combining madder root with a metallic salt or mordant, which deepened and fixed the dye to a textile. 

Puce became the “it” color of the summer of 1775, inspiring a myriad of hues, each with its own spin, from ventre de puce (flea belly), cuisse de puce (flea thigh) and even vielle puce (old flea).

Dyers and weavers struggled to keep up with demand. But fashion, as they say, is fickle. After only a few months, it was out of style. 

Strangely enough, in French you can call your sweetheart “ma puce” (my flea) as a term of endearment. 

Which puce is really puce? Pantone declares it to be a purplish brown, while others think it’s more of a mauve.

On top of that, no one seems able to agree on the actual hue of puce. Pantone’s version, 19-1518 TPX, is more of a grayish-brown, while A Dictionary of Color, by A. Maerz and M. Rea Paul, describes it as a mauve pink. 

Wherever the color lands on the spectrum, it will always have as its claim to fame a connection to Marie Antionette and a bloodsucking parasite. –Duke

Hubbard Street Murals: Chicago’s Street Art Gallery

Wanna see some cool murals in Chicago? This stretch of Hubbard features street art done by artists from around the world. 

Pilsen or West Loop? Find out where the best murals in Chicago are.

Duke and I are obsessed with street art. We hunt it down and take pics of it wherever we go. 

But, as amazing as it would be to share your art with the world, it also strikes me that it must also be heartbreaking how ephemeral street art can be. Buildings get demolished (or simply change ownership), and the artists have no claim to their work. And how awful it would be to have your work obliterated — which definitely seems to be a trend, at least in Chicago at hip venues like Soho House and the Violet Hour. In many cases, we view murals nowadays as temporary canvases, able to shine all too briefly before they are painted over and another takes its place.

One of Wally’s favorite murals on Hubbard Street

I work near Fulton Market (West Loop is Best Loop, as we say), and on my lunch break, I will often walk along Hubbard Street, from Halsted to Ogden, to admire and photograph the murals. The one downside is that there’s no real path along the street — at times you’ll be trekking through weeds and bushes to see the sights.

Even the underpasses along Hubbard are covered with cool graffiti.

At first there were many remnants from the ’70s, faded and less artistic than the amazing works done by today’s muralists. But now, every time I pass by, more and more of the original murals have been painted over, replaced by more modern artworks. Hubbard Street acts as an amazing outdoor gallery, an open-air museum of some of the most talented street artists from around the world. 

¡Viva Chicago indeed! A fading luchador mural

The Hubbard Street murals blow Duke’s mind.

Great street art really packs a wallop for Wally.

I caught up with Levar Hoard, chief curator and managing director of the B_Line, a mile-long corridor of public art in Chicago’s Fulton Market District, who was kind enough to answer a few questions for us.

Levar Hoard heads up the Hubbard Street Murals project.

A Q&A With Levar Hoard of the B_Line

Tell us about the original project. When did it begin and what was its mission?

The original founder/curator was Ricardo Alonzo. When the murals started in 1971 (this year is our 50th anniversary), they were dedicated to environmental causes (pollution initially, then endangered animals). That went on to include many concepts like Mexican native art, abstract and other styles.

How did B_Line get involved?

We became the sole curators in 2017 after years of research and negotiation with the private train company that owns the walls (it's not a city project), and we legally assumed the license in perpetuity from Ricardo that was signed in 1971 with the railroad.

How do you find the artists? What’s the process with them?

We fly the world's most renowned artists to Chicago and also find Chicago’s best muralists, and discover new muralists, who we give their first commission to. 

As a privately run and funded organization, we subjectively select artists based on skill level, demonstrated competence with techniques and materials, and aesthetics. 

One of the artists flown in to create a mural

How do you decide where each artist is to paint, and when it’s time to paint over an existing mural?

It’s based on the condition of the wall. Most of the murals from 1971 are long gone, and we work to preserve or restore them where possible. Where it’s not possible or worthwhile, we recondition the wall and usher in a new era of art and artists that reflect the time we now live in — the M.O. of street art. 

What’s your favorite thing about the mural project? 

Meeting thousands of people that visit the murals weekly. 

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Be sure to check out B_Line’s Instagram feed for video interviews about their many projects and history: @blinechicago.

To learn more about the history of the Hubbard Street Murals, read this Reader article.

We also reached out to a couple of the street artists behind our favorite murals along the stretch of Hubbard. Here are their stories.

Nurture or Nature by the street artist duo Pipsqueak Was Here!!!

A Q&A With Pipsqueak Was Here!!!

The Amsterdam, Netherlands-based street artist duo known as Pipsqueak Was Here!!! told us about their experience with the Hubbard Street Murals:

We were in Chicago for a show with Vertical Gallery and had a few days to play around. Patrick Hull, who runs the gallery, introduced us to Levar Hoard, who curates the B_Line paintings. He helped us out with two ladders, and Patrick provided us with some paint.

We painted a girl holding a duck, a stencil we had with us because we planned to do a mural for the RAW Project, an incredible collective to improve the environment of elementary schools around the USA.

Our painting is called Nurture or Nature. The work, like most of our paintings, is a combination of a child with an animal. We combine these two to depict the relationship between human beings and the remaining natural environment. Most of our work is about how we treat the world and how, in return, it treats us.

Nurture or Nature poses the question, should we protect what is left or should we let nature take its course, whatever the consequences may turn out to be?

We really enjoyed being part of this wonderful project, as we found it incredible to see that they included and restored some of the paintings over 40 years old. It was an honor to contribute to such a rich tradition, and we were really helped by Lavar, Patrick and Margaux Comte, who took photographs while we worked.

We had an overwhelming response to this painting, and it really was fun being able to do something like this on such short notice.

Here’s a short time-lapse video of the mural creation.

The Hubbard Street mural painted by Stinkfish

A Q&A With Stinkfish

The artist known as Stinkfish told us: 

I got involved by an invitation by B_Line and through my gallery in Chicago, Vertical Gallery. 

I used a portrait of a girl in a workshop I did in Vienna, Austria. She had the mask because we were using spray paint. 

Then came COVID, and the piece took on another relevance and meaning. 

It was a good experience. It’s a nice place to paint. The project gave me the opportunity to see different styles, techniques and messages in the same place. 

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If you’re a fan of murals, you can’t miss the Hubbard Street corridor. This might be a controversial view, but I prefer these murals to those on 16th Street in Pilsen, another legendary stretch of street art in Chicago. With new artists constantly creating works of art, a walk along Hubbard is never quite the same, even just weeks apart. –Wally

Shrimp Escabeche: A Tapas Treat

Looking for tapas recipes? This escabèche recipe features an aromatic marinade of olive oil, vinegar, garlic and oregano — a perfect tapa for turning any night of the week into a fiesta. 

Shrimp escabèche: a delicious cold seafood tapa

When the hot and sticky days of summer arrive in Chicago, I break out one of my tried-and-true tapas recipes. Pair this with patatas bravas, Manzanilla olives and cold bottles of Estrella or sangria for something muy auténtico.

Pair shrimp escabèche with patatas bravas for a mini tapas spread.

Escabèche is a pickling technique used to flavor and preserve food. This method is believed to have originated in Persia, derived from the word sikbāj, meaning “vinegar stew.” It was brought to Islamic Spain, or Al-Andalus, by the Moors, and later adopted by the Christians, who found it to be a good way to get around eating meat on Fridays during Lent. 

“Escabèche is a pickling technique brought to Spain by the Moors, and later adopted by the Christians, who found it to be a good way to get around eating meat on Fridays during Lent. ”

I love the marriage of garlic-infused olive oil and the tang of acid from the vinegar quick-pickled (or “quickled,” as Wally likes to say) red onions. They’re an ingredient we usually avoid, as we find their flavor to be too aggressive raw, but the quickling takes the bite out of the onions. 

The escabèche process is simple and never disappoints. Plus, all of the ingredients can be prepared ahead and assembled the next day. 

Pickled onions, peppercorns and shrimp combine into a tasty treat.

Shrimp Escabèche Recipe

INGREDIENTS 

• 1 small red onion

• ½ cup distilled white vinegar

• ¼ teaspoon dried oregano (preferably Mexican) 

• ⅔ cup extra-virgin olive oil

• 2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California bay leaf

• 2 garlic cloves, smashed

• 1 teaspoon black peppercorns

• 1 pound raw, peeled and deveined shrimp

• Fine sea salt

Red onions, garlic, bay leaves, peppercorns, vinegar and shrimp: your ingredients for a simple, tasty tapas dish

PREPARATION 

Slice the onion in half and peel off the outer layer of skin. I like to use a mandolin, placing it on a cutting board. Be sure to use the slicing guard or a cut-resistant glove — these devices can be dangerous! Push the flat side of the onion away from you and repeat this motion with even pressure to keep slices consistent. If you don’t have a mandolin, just try to slice the onion as thin as possible.

Toss together the onion slices, vinegar, oregano and 1 teaspoon salt in a shallow glass or ceramic dish. These are non-reactive materials; if you use a metal dish, you’ll end up with a metallic-tasting tapa. 

Cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator. 

Quickling the red onions takes the bite out of them.

Gently simmer the bay leaves, garlic and peppercorns in olive oil in a medium saucepan for 10 minutes until fully heated through. Remove from heat until ready to use. 

Add shrimp to a medium pot of boiling salted water (1 tablespoon salt for 2 quarts water). Remove from heat and let stand, uncovered, until just cooked through, about 5 minutes. 

Poached shrimp

Drain and then combine with the oil mixture in a medium bowl, stirring to evenly coat the shrimp. 

Wrap the bowl with plastic wrap and let the shrimp and infused oil mixture marinate in the refrigerator 12 to 24 hours before eating. 

Discard the bay leaves and plate the shrimp cold or at room temperature. 

Garnish with the onions and pickling liquid. 

We like to make sure you get some onions and at least one peppercorn with every bite. It’s the mix of flavors that makes this dish so tasty.

¡Buen provecho!

Note: The escabèche can be refrigerated for up to 5 days. –Duke

Fashion and Beauty in Ancient Egypt

What did the average Egyptian look like? A tour of the clothes, jewelry and makeup worn in Ancient Egypt.

What was an Ancient Egyptian’s beauty regime like?

Ancient Egyptians had no qualms about nudity. To be fair, it does get really hot there. 

But that doesn’t mean they ran around naked all day. They did have a sense of style — the clothes tended to be simple, with jewelry adding colorful accents.

“When you think about these standards of beauty, you realize how similar they are to our own modern-day ideals.”

The dry desert climate has preserved an astounding amount of statues and paintings from Ancient Egypt, so we have a good idea of what they looked like and what they wore.

What did Ancient Egyptians look like?

On the average, they were shorter than modern-day humans: Women were about 5 feet tall, while men were typically around 5'5".

Ancient Egyptian women strived to be thin with pert breasts, while men with broad shoulders tapering down to flat stomachs were considered handsome. Some things never change.

What was the ideal of beauty?

A good place to start with standards of beauty is the art of a time period. You can see how bodies were depicted in paintings and sculptures — especially those that don’t aim at realism. The body types in Ancient Egyptian art remained amazingly similar for over 3,000 years.

So what was considered hot to the Ancient Egyptian? Thin was in. Curved hips weren’t often depicted, but small, firm breasts were admired. 

“[S]ome of the mummies of older women, whose natural equipment had sagged under the relentless pressure of the years, were stuffed with wax or sawdust in the pectoral region to give the necessary curves,” writes Barbara Mertz in Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt.

And the men emulated a long and lean physique, including broad shoulders that tapered down to a flat stomach. 

When you think about these standards of beauty, you realize how similar they are to our own modern-day ideals.

What hairdos did Ancient Egyptian women adopt?

How did Ancient Egyptians wear their hair?

“The girls let their hair hang loose or braided it into pigtails, but boys had an unusual coiffure — the head was shaved except for one long lock on the side, which was braided,” Mertz writes. You’ll see this sidelock carved onto many a temple wall.

A statue showing the unusual sidelock worn by Egyptian boys

This distinctive hairstyle was something men would wax idyllic about, feeling nostalgia for the carefree days of boyhood as the time “before I had cut off the sidelock.” Perhaps the act of cutting off the sidelock was a rite of passage into adulthood for Ancient Egyptian men.

Men in the Old Kingdom wore their hair short, not unlike today. Other styles that were popular included the shoulder-length bob and a short cap of tight curls arranged in rows. 

A man with rows of tight curls — a popular style in Ancient Egypt

For women, in the Middle Kingdom the haircut that was all the rage had bangs and long hair on the sides cut at an angle. 

By the New Kingdom, noblewomen had a new style: a top layer of long, thin curls or crimps, beneath which were rows of shorter curls or marcelled waves that hung to the shoulders. 

A wig with a colorful covering from the tomb of a minor wife of Pharaoh Thutmose III.

Did they wear wigs?

Yes, both men and women did, and they were mostly made of human hair. A woman’s wig tended to be long and dark-haired, though in the early dynasties, some females sported hairstyles as short as their male counterparts. 

Facial hair wasn’t too popular in Ancient Egypt, but there are some statues that show men with mustaches or beards.

What about facial hair? 

“At certain periods neat little mustaches were worn, and sometimes beards seem to have been fashionable,” Mertz writes. But most often, men in Ancient Egypt were clean-shaven. That long goatee you see on statues and carvings of pharaohs was artificial: You can sometimes see the chin straps.

A variety of clothing styles for the different classes. You’ll note that white was the color of choice.

What clothes did Ancient Egyptians wear?

For young children, the answer was nothing — not a bad idea, Mertz muses, given the heat and the propensity of toddlers to get dirty.

“Older children wore clothing like that of their parents, a kilt, or skirt, for boys, a simple linen dress for girls,” Mertz writes. 

Linen was pretty much the only material used for clothing, although now and then wool was used. Egyptian weavers could use linen to make everything from a coarse fabric to a delicate gauze.

No bright colors or patterns here: The clothes were usually white. 

Dresses and kilts got more elaborate in later periods.

What were Ancient Egyptian women’s dresses like?

Women were typically clad in an ankle-length dress with wide shoulder straps over the breasts.

“The dress must have been designed to fit the figure as tightly as possible, and it may have been stylish to make it of thin material,” Mertz writes, adding, “A becoming style for the slim and graceful, but I wonder how plump ladies felt about it?”

In later periods, fashion got a bit more complex among the well-to-do. Another style that became all the rage had a sheer linen robe with accordion pleats and a small cape that crossed and tied in front of the breasts. It hung loose unless tied with a long sash at the waist.

There are also depictions of dresses made entirely of colored beads, intricately woven into elaborate patterns. They were most likely quite revealing, and where they show up in bas-reliefs and statues, they’re donned by goddesses or comely servant girls.

Men’s wardrobes were simple: a white skirt, or kilt, and no top.

What did Ancient Egyptian men wear?

Most men went shirtless but wore a knee-length kilt. It was secured by knots, sashes or simply tucked in. Later on, the kilt, like women’s dresses, more fancy, and started sporting accordion pleats.

Like the womenfolk, men also wore long, sheer, flowing robes.

Leather sandals were preferred over those made of papyrus, which didn’t last long.

What about their shoes? 

Most people went barefoot but had sandals for special occasions. Even the poor would have had a pair of sandals made from papyrus, though they didn’t last long. Leather was preferred. 

Ancient Egyptian jewelry didn’t have many precious stones but featured turquoise, garnet, obsidian, lapis lazuli and other colorful rocks.

What was Ancient Egyptian jewelry like?

The precious stones used to make bracelets (worn by women, boys and sometimes men), diadems, girdles, anklets and rings included carnelian, turquoise, garnet, feldspar, rock crystal, obsidian and lapis lazuli. 

But the most popular material was faience. If you read anything about Ancient Egypt, you’ll come across this word. Egyptian faience was composed of ground quartz, a colorant and other materials molded into a shape — most often a blue-green bead. 

Copper (for the lower class) and gold (for the upper class) were the most common metals used. Both were readily available, thanks to mines in the desert and neighboring Nubia. Electrum, a pale yellow mix of silver and gold, was also commonly used for jewelry. 

These large necklaces were called pectorals. This one features faience, a common blue-green material used at the time.

“The most common ornament was the flexible collar, made of concentric rows of beads, some of which might be shaped like animals or flowers or leaves,” Mertz writes. “It covered the front of the wearer’s body from the base of the neck to the middle of the breast, and since it was made of bright colors, it formed an important part of the overall costume.” 

Men and women lined their eyes with kohl in a distinctive style.

Did Ancient Egyptians wear makeup?

Anyone even remotely interested in Ancient Egypt (or who has seen Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra) is familiar with kohl. Egyptians focused on the eyes, and kohl was the eye shadow of choice. It’s still popular, though it’s now made of soot. But back in the day, Egyptians ground up malachite to make green kohl, and galena to make shades of gray. They applied this eye shadow over the eyebrows and around the eyes using a tiny wooden spoon or a rod made of bone (or, in a pinch, their finger). 

Red ochre worked as rouge and sometimes as lipstick. 

The Egyptians were fond of oiling themselves, which, as Mertz points out, makes sense in a hot, dry climate.

And to complete the package, people also applied scented oils, including myrrh and resin or floral bouquets, such as lily. –Wally

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The Sex Lives of Ancient Egyptians

How did Ancient Egyptians view love, sex and marriage? What were their views on homosexuality? Did women have equal rights? And what was childbirth like?

Ancient Egyptians were a lot less prudish when it came to sex than we are today.

All it takes is a trip to one of the many impressive temples that have stood the test of time for thousands of years to establish a lifelong admiration for the Ancient Egyptians. The Pyramids at Giza are but one testament to their ingenuity. 

And the more I learn about their society, the more impressed I am. When it comes to sexuality, equal rights and divorce, for instance, the Ancient Egyptians were surprisingly enlightened. Sure, there was their predilction for incest — but aside from that, they had some pretty forward-thinking ideas, especially for the time.

“The rights of a divorced woman were far ahead of their time.

A divorcée controlled her own possessions and was entitled to a percentage of the assets acquired by the couple. ”

Premarital sex and children born out of wedlock were legal and carried no stigma.

How did Ancient Egyptians view sex?

They most likely didn’t have the same puritanical prudishness about sex that lingers in the West to this day.

“It seems clear, from references in the poetry and other sources, that there was no moral prohibition against physical love between young unmarried persons, nor was there any stigma attached to children born out of wedlock,” writes Barbara Mertz in Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt.

A statue depicting a lesbian couple from Ancient Egypt

These men are shown in a pose usually reserved for married couples.

What about homosexuality?

The signs point to Ancient Egyptians being OK with the gays. One case in point: There’s a Fifth Dynasty tomb at Saqqara that was jointly used for two men in the manner of a husband and wife. Though both were married with children, the men are depicted in a nose-to-nose embrace in one wall carving — a pose typically used for spouses. 

“Were these men lovers?” Mertz asks. “Your guess is as good as mine, though I think the evidence points in that direction.”

Marriages focused on cohabitation; a couple became husband and wife once they crossed the threshold of the house they would share.

What were Ancient Egyptian marriages like?

Well, it certainly wasn’t a major industry like it is for us. In fact, marriages might not even have been officially celebrated.

“We know very little about the ceremony of marriage, but most authorities agree that it was unimpressive, if indeed it existed,” Mertz writes. “Evidently, a man simply built a house and invited a woman to share it; when she moved in, the couple was considered to be married.”

This looks like a happy family — but if the woman wanted to get divorced, it was quite easy.

Could you get divorced?

No problem. In fact, a lack of compatibility was enough to end a marriage. By the Late Period, there were divorce documents that read, “If I repudiate you, if I take a dislike to you and want someone else…”

And the rights of a divorced woman were far ahead of their time. A divorcée controlled her own possessions and was entitled to a percentage of the assets acquired by the couple. Women could also pass on their property to whomever they wanted — rights that married women in England and America didn’t even obtain until the 19th century, Mertz points out.

Women had a surprising amount of rights — especially for an ancient civilization. They could hold property, get fair divorce settlements and hold even the highest office, that of pharoah.

How were women treated?

There was some equality among the sexes, with evidence of women holding even the highest positions, with the best example being Hatshepset, the woman who became king, or pharoah, and ruled over all of Egypt.

“We know of female treasurers and officials, and even a vizier — the highest position under the king,” Mertz writes. “One woman held the fascinating title of ‘Overseer of Doctors.’ Were these women doctors? Was she a practicing physician? Nobody knows for sure. The rarity of such titles indicated that they were exceptions to the general rule of male domination of the professions and crafts.”

Akhenaten and Nefertiti are famous for being a loving family, depicted holding their daughters — a slice of daily life that just wasn’t done at the time.

And one of the queen’s titles translates to something like, She for Whom Anything She Says Is Done. Sounds pretty powerful to me.

What about the harems?

Ancient Egyptian harems weren’t like the ones in the Muslim world. Mertz argues that a better translation is “women’s quarters.” The words that meant wife and concubine were occasionally interchangeable — which gives us a clue that these were women of status. 

“Some houses didn’t have separate areas for women; some did; but the dwellers therein were free to come and go as they liked,” Mertz writes. 

The royal family in particular practiced incest, emulating the gods, including the brother and sister pairing of Osiris and Isis.

Is it true that Ancient Egyptians practiced incest?

Well…yes. Certainly in the royal family. 

Ancient Egyptians didn’t have the same taboos we do (and, as smart as they were about architecture and so many other things, they obviously didn’t realize the dangers of depleting the gene pool by having kids with close relatives). 

Plus, they were emulating their gods. Just as in Ancient Greece and Rome, the deities of the Egyptian pantheon had some brother and sister pairings — most notably, Osiris and Isis.

Is it a mere coincidence that the word “senet,” at some periods in Ancient Egypt, meant both sister and wife? 

Egyptian women squatted during childbirth and were supported on either side (though not usually by cow-headed deities).

How did Ancient Egyptians give birth?

To see how Ancient Egyptian women delivered babies, the best evidence we have lies in their word for childbirth: The hieroglyph shows a woman squatting (or kneeling) with the arms and head of a baby emerging from between her legs. Hey, why not let gravity do its part?

A hieroglyph for childbirth reveals how Ancient Egyptians would have given birth.

The pregnant woman would have been supported on either side by females of the household, with a midwife helping with the delivery. 

How did they celebrate birthdays?

They probably didn’t. “One event that was never recorded was the year of an individual’s birth — and I mean any individual, king, commoner or prince,” Mertz writes.

From views on homosexuality to the rights of women, Ancient Egypt turns out to be a particularly progressive civilization. –Wally

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LEARN MORE: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt

Diseases, houses, food: What was it really like to be an Ancient Egyptian?

Daily Life in Ancient Egypt

How long did Ancient Egyptians live — and what did most people die of? What were the houses and schools like in Ancient Egypt? What did Ancient Egyptians eat and drink? Egyptologist and author Barbara Mertz unearths these secrets.

What was in an Ancient Egyptian’s diet? How long did they live? And, most importantly, were they cat or dog people?

While I love learning about world religions, mythology and history, not everyone can be a ruler or high priest. It’s nice to also think about the little people. As we explored the wonders of Egypt, I kept finding myself wondering what it was like for the average person. 

It was surprisingly difficult to find a book that covered this subject. There are tons of tomes covering the temples, tombs and pharaohs. But one that tells you how most Egyptians at the time kicked the bucket? Hard to come by. 

“Before we start feeling superior to our ‘primitive’ predecessors, we should bear in mind that a good many people in today’s ‘civilized’ world live under conditions that are as bad or worse than the ordinary ancient Egyptian endured.”

— Barbara Mertz, “Red Land, Black Land”

So thank Horus for Barbara Metz (who, incidentally is the author of the delightful murder mysteries of the proto-feminist archeologist detective, Amelia Peabody). Mertz’s book, Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt, written in her oh-so-distinctive voice, was just what I was looking for.

Barbara Mertz — perhaps the most entertaining author on Ancient Egypt out there

Dear Reader, a Caveat

Part of what I find so enjoyable about Mertz is that she tells it like it is. She’s not too full of her own self-importance to be self-deprecating about herself and fellow Egyptologists. One thing she’ll never be accused of is being stuffy; in fact, there’s a sassiness and wit to her writings that delights me.

Mertz warns that you can’t take anything you learn about Ancient Egypt as outright facts. What we know about that time period could be a misinterpretation of the evidence, and a new discovery can utterly uproot existing theories. 

“[T]he most reliable books on ancient Egypt are loaded with boring words like ‘probably’ and ‘perhaps’ and ‘possibly’; scholars avoid ‘maybe’ for stylistic reasons, but it should be prefixed to at least 50 percent of the statements made in any book on Egypt — including this one,” she writes.

That’s especially true since Mertz first published Red Land, Black Land in 1966, with an updated edition that came out in 1978.

Mummies reveal a lot about how Ancient Egyptians lived — and died.

How long did the average Ancient Egyptian live?

About 35 years — and no wonder, Mertz says. They toiled hard and had limited access to healthcare: “Studies of Egyptian mummies show that these people suffered from a number of diseases, most of which went untreated,” she writes. “Poor nutrition and the inability to cope with infection contributed to high infant mortality. The flour ground on stone querns contained large quantities of grit that wore away tooth surfaces. Cavities were fairly infrequent, since the Egyptians didn’t have refined sugar, but a number of mummies have hideous gum abscesses.”

Ancient Egyptian doctors didn’t do the best job at fighting off a host of diseases.

What diseases were the most common?

Studies of mummies from Ancient Egypt have revealed a host of illnesses, including malaria, tuberculosis and smallpox. “Black lung disease resulted from the smoke-filled, poorly ventilated houses, and desert lung disease from the constantly blowing sand,” Mertz writes. “Perhaps the worst and most common illness was parasitic infection, which still occurs in Egypt today. The most pervasive parasite goes by two names, bilharziasis or schistosomiasis. I won’t go into details, since they are really revolting, but if not treated, the infection produces calcification of the bladder, fibrosis of the intestine, scarring of the liver, serious anemia, chronic fatigue and possibly heart disease. It isn’t fatal except in rare cases, but the sufferer probably wishes it were.”

It all sounds pretty awful — but Mertz points out, “Before we start feeling superior to our ‘primitive’ predecessors, we should bear in mind that a good many people in today’s ‘civilized’ world live under conditions that are as bad or worse than the ordinary ancient Egyptian endured.”

Ancient Egyptian homes weren’t too shabby; they had four rooms, plus the rooftop.

What was an Ancient Egyptian house like? 

For the middle and upper classes, there were typically four rooms in their homes. The room facing the street had no windows, aside from grates near the roof. Beyond this was an all-purpose room with columns and a higher ceiling, where the family slept, ate and entertained. A raised platform was used for a couch, bed or possibly to give birth. And behind this were two more small chambers: a kitchen and a storeroom or extra bedroom. There was a basement for storage, and a flat roof that served as extra living space. 

Beds tilted slightly downward, so instead of a headboard, there was a footboard to keep the sleeper from gently sliding down onto the floor, Mertz writes. And no down-filled pillows were to be found: “the item that would finish most of us was the pillow, which was not a pillow at all but a headrest of shoulder height, with a support curved to fit the neck,” she explains.

Dining tables were also unheard of. Even in royal palaces, every guest or pair of guests had their own little table to eat at.

In the kitchen, there weren’t any counters. While it doesn’t sound very sanitary, all cooking prep was performed on the floor, from grinding grain to kneading bread.

Egyptian homes didn’t have counter space, so meal prep was done on the ground. Consequently, a lot of food had grit in it that wore away at the teeth.

Privacy wasn’t really an option, as homes were filled with extended family members.

At Amarna, a city that briefly served as Egypt’s capital, the villas of chief courtiers even had bathrooms — a small, walled-off space with a brick-supported seat and a removable vessel beneath.

A model of an Ancient Egyptian home. Peasants’ homes were made of mud brick and would be reduced to nothing in a bad downpour.

What about the homes of the lower class?

Their huts would have been made of mud brick, containing a single room that everyone — including any domesticated animals — shared. And while it doesn’t rain often in Egypt, when it does, it’s a deluge. “A heavy downpour would reduce a peasant’s house to a pile of mud,” Mertz writes. “On the positive side, such domiciles were easy to build.”

Bread and beer were the two main staples of the Ancient Egyptian diet.

What did Ancient Egyptians eat and drink?

The key staple of the Ancient Egyptian diet was bread. In fact, some loaves have survived to the present day! 

They were also quite fond of beer. These two items top the list of the mortuary texts that list the food most desired in the afterlife. 

Early Egyptians ate a lot of fish — the River Nile offered a never-ending supply.

Milk, cheese, beans, lentils and chickpeas were also consumed. 

Vegetables played a large part in the Ancient Egyptian’s diet, primarily onions, garlic, radishes and lettuce (which was an aphrodisiac and features prominently in a bizarre myth about Horus and Seth). 

“Meat was probably scarce in poor households, but well-to-do families raised cattle and such exotic animals as oryxes and gazelles for food,” Mertz writes. 

They also domesticated pigs, sheep, geese and ducks.

Wealthy nobles, not surprisingly, ate better than the peasants. For one, they could sweeten their food with honey, and they ate carob, which is as close to chocolate as the ancients got.

They ate fruit, including dates, figs, melons and grapes, which were also dried into raisins or made into wine. 

More wine? Egyptians seemed to prefer beer, but as these amphoras attest, vino was popular, too.

“People ate with their fingers,” Mertz writes, “and when the meal was over a servant, or a daughter of the household, came around with water, which was poured over the hands.”

This carving shows what appears to be an Ancient Egyptian school.

Did Ancient Egyptians go to school?

We’re not sure, but we can presume that some of the upper class children, particularly the boys, were educated at a temple or in a room of a scribe’s house. 

The tools of the scribe’s trade

They were given the equivalent of pen and ink, and they wrote on ostraca, broken fragments of pottery or stone, because papyrus was too expensive for educational purposes. As you can imagine, they wrote in the hieroglyphic Egyptian script (“the most beautiful system of writing ever devised,” according to Mertz).

“Incidentally,” she continues, “the correct noun form for the little images is ‘hieroglyphs.’ Popular writers occasionally call them ‘hieroglyphics,’ and this small error scratches at the sensitivities of Egyptologists like a fingernail on a blackboard.”

Ancient Egyptians got a lot of things right — including a love of cats, which they domesticated.

How did they feel about cats?

It’s believed that Ancient Egypt was the first place cats were domesticated. 

They were also at the center of the worship of the feline-headed deity, Bastet: “Mummified cats have been found in large numbers,” Mertz writes. “I regret to say that the majority appear to have been deliberately done in, presumably as an offering to the goddess in question. (Don’t ask me to explain the logic of this.)”

The Egyptian word for cat might have been an onomatopoeia: It’s spelled miw. “How it was vocalized we may safely leave to the imagination of any cat-owning reader,” Mertz writes, cheeky as ever. –Wally

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KEEP READING: The Sex Lives of Ancient Egyptians

Learn their views on premarital sex, children born out of wedlock, homosexuality, women’s rights and more!

Fabyan Villa Museum and Its Frank Lloyd Wright Connection

Tour the picturesque Riverbank estate, with the Fabyan Forest Preserve, a Japanese garden, a windmill, quirky curios (a suspect mummy!) — and a codebreaking legacy.

The Fabyan Villa can thank Frank Lloyd Wright for its cruciform shape. The house and its grounds are worth exploring if you want to take a day trip from Chicago.

Before my parents make their annual visit to Wally and me in Chicago, we plan an interesting day trip, do a little research and look for something quirky to do. Typically it’s somewhere a bit farther afield since neither of us has a car. I can’t recall how we settled on the Fabyan Villa in Geneva, Illinois. It’s entirely possible that I came across it on the Atlas Obscura website, given Wally’s and my proclivity for attractions that don’t always make their way into guidebooks. Or it could've had something to do with Frank Lloyd Wright, the Japanese garden or the circa-1850 Dutch-style windmill located on the grounds of the sprawling estate. 

Colonel George Fabyan

George Fabyan, Country Squire of Riverbank

In 1905, Colonel George and Nelle Fabyan purchased 10 acres of land in Geneva, including a Victorian-style farmhouse, as a country retreat from their residence in Chicago. Fabyan (pronouced like Fay-bee-yen) came from a wealthy and prominent Boston family. His father was a co-partner at Bliss, Fabyan and Company, one of the country’s largest dry goods and textile merchants, known for Ripplette, a lightweight, crinkly fabric similar to seersucker, which needed no to minimal ironing after washing. 

Fabyan inherited his father’s wealth — around $2 million dollars (equivalent to over $57 million today). He acquired an additional 300-plus acres over the next 20 years and named the estate Riverbank. 

George and Nelle indulged in a variety of unconventional interests, including cryptology, Japanese gardening and the construction of a scientific laboratory complex that let them pursue their research interests.

“Some rich men go in for art collections, gay times on the Riviera or extravagant living. But they all get satiated.

That’s why I stick to scientific experiments, spending money to discover valuable things that universities can’t afford. You can never get sick of too much knowledge.”

— Colonel George Fabyan

The Fabyan Villa Museum

A Tour of Fabyan Villa

The four of us arrived at the forest preserve, parked the car and followed the steps leading up to the house, which sits on a hillside overlooking the Fox River. We purchased tickets ($10 per person) and met a docent from the Preservation Partners of Fox Valley (PPFV) outside who told us about the historic home. In 1907, the Fabyans commissioned architect Frank Lloyd Wright to enlarge and remodel the existing farmhouse in the Prairie style. While it’s no Fallingwater or even Graycliff, it has its charms.

Additions included the two-story south wing, which added symmetry to the dwelling’s long, low cruciform shape, three projecting porches, wood-spindle screening and overhanging eaves, adding to the horizontality of the overall design. 

Our tour began in the Fabyans’ reception room, which is paneled in dark walnut and furnished with Victorian-era wood and glass display cabinets, showcasing the couple’s memorabilia, taxidermy and Asian ephemera. Among the notable acquisitions on display are a white marble statue of Diana and the Lion (Intellect Dominating Force) by American sculptor Frank Edwin Elwell, which stands in the dining room and was originally exhibited in the Palace of Fine Arts at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. There’s also a Japanese samurai suit and a vitrine filled with bodhisattva statuettes.

On the back porch is a display case holding a mummy. Its body is wrapped in strips of linen and clutching what uncannily resembles an infant. Turns out the mummy is actually a forgery. In 1982, an expert examined the mummy, and an X-ray revealed it to be fabricated with nails, plywood, sawdust and a single bone inside the wrappings — and that bone came from a dog. Apparently, no one’s certain of its provenance or if the original owners knew it was a fake. One theory is that it may have been featured as a sideshow oddity or was an artifact purchased by Fabyan from the Field Museum. 

The Fabyans’ mummy turned out to be a hoax.

Beyond the dining room is Nelle Fabyan’s bedroom and en suite bathroom with custom furniture designed by Wright. Nelle had a hanging bed, suspended from the ceiling like a giant swing, and it’s speculated that this was to promote air circulation and protect her from contracting tuberculosis. Many of the original furnishings were auctioned off when the estate was sold in 1939, but locals who owned pieces donated them back to the landmark, which is managed by the PPFV. 

Frank Lloyd Wright didn’t build the Fabyan Villa from scratch — but he did renovate it, infusing it with Prairie style aesthetics and symmetry.

Wright’s Prairie style aesthetic is also evident in the open floor plan and warm earth tone color palette used on the walls of the interior. 

Upstairs is the music room, where Nelle’s Victor Talking Machine aka Victrola, encased in a wood cabinet, stands sentinel. Only the wealthy could afford the innovative Victor-Victrola model, whose initial selling price was $200, expensive for the time.

Duke and Wally explore the estate.

Duke and his parents in the rose arbor (which was noticeably lacking roses at the time of our visit).

Connected to the music room is the sleeping porch, where the pet monkeys, Mike, Patsy and Molly, would stay during the winter months. The floor of the room is tinplate, with drainage incorporated for obvious reasons (monkey waste). Perhaps the simians filled the vacant role of children to the childless couple?

Furniture, art and light were an integral part of Wright’s conceptual philosophy, creating compositions that functioned as a cohesive whole. As such, he would have most likely despised the ornate Victorian bed in the second floor bedroom. Wright’s leaded glass cathedral-style windows or “light screens” as the architect called them, fill the room with light. They’re not the intricate geometric stained glass affairs he was famous for elsewhere, as, out here in the countryside, he didn’t want to obscure the beauty of the natural view. 

The house’s grounds lead down to the Fox River.

Fabyan’s Animal Kingdom 

In addition to that trio of monkeys, a menagerie of animals lived on the estate, including Cayman alligators, a pair of black bears (named Tom and Jerry after a popular Midwestern milk punch served at the holidays), cows and dogs. A bear cage remains southwest of the garden, and according to local lore, loaves of bread were baked in the basement of the windmill to feed Fabyan’s pet bears. 

Japanese gardens were a craze with the elite in the early 1900s, and the Fabyans added a lovely one to Riverbank.

Turning Japanese: The Fabyan Japanese Garden

Awaiting visitors outside and just beyond the villa are the Japanese gardens and rose arbor, which lead from the bottom of the slope at the rear of the villa down to the banks of the Fox River. After the Japanese embassy created a garden for the 1893 World’s Fair, they became a status symbol among the wealthy. 

The Fabyans’ gardens were built between 1910 and 1913 by landscape architect Issei Taro Otsuka, a Japanese immigrant gardener who later redesigned the 1893 Wooded Island in Jackson Park for the Century of Progress International Exposition, the second world’s fair hosted by Chicago.

The gardens were closed on our visit, but we were able to see the torii gate, traditionally found at the entrance of a Shinto shrine and demarcating the passage from the earthly to the sacred. The gardens looked beautiful from afar, with conifer pine trees, traditional stone lanterns and a graceful curved bridge reflected in the pond beneath it. 

Although Fabyan didn’t serve in the armed services, he was given the honorary title of colonel by Illinois Governor Richard Yates out of gratitude for his public service work after Fabyan allowed the National Guard to use the estate as a training ground — and from that time on, George was known as Colonel Fabyan. He also received Japan’s Order of the Rising Sun, a decoration of honor awarded for his invaluable participation in peace negotiations with Japanese emissaries, a few of whom stayed on the property when the Colonel and Nelle hosted them. 

Riverbank Laboratories, owned by Fabyan, conducted acoustic research and later became instrumental in codebreaking.

Codebreaking at Riverbank Laboratories: Birth of the NSA

The Fabyan estate also carried on extensive scientific research, with greenhouses where they would grow exotic plants and conduct genetic experiments. Across the street from the villa is Riverbank Laboratories. This was Fabyan’s think tank. He was interested in subjects as diverse as acoustics and, perhaps the Colonel`s most famous legacy, the cryptology laboratory.

The acoustics laboratory, which is still in operation today, was built around an ultra-quiet test chamber for the study of soundwaves and was designed by the top acoustics expert in the country, Professor Wallace Sabine of Harvard University. 

One of the Colonel’s odder obsessions was a belief that Sir Francis Bacon was the true author of some (or even all) of Shakespeare’s literary works, and that Bacon had left coded messages within the plays and sonnets. Fabyan hired Elizabeth Wells Gallup, a scholar and author of The Bi-literal Cypher of Sir Francis Bacon, to decipher a binary alphabet to reveal secret messages in the works of Shakespeare. 

Fabyan was convinced that there were clues in Shakespeare’s plays that revealed that their true author was actually Sir Francis Bacon.

Gallup’s team included Elizebeth and William Friedman, who spent years honing their cryptology skills researching the Bard’s works using Bacon’s ciphers. Though largely inconclusive, their efforts weren’t entirely in vain: The couple was instrumental in breaking codes and ciphers during World War I and World War II. Because the U.S. military didn’t yet have a dedicated department devoted to codebreaking, Fabyan’s Riverbank Laboratories ended up being the foundation for the NSA, the National Security Agency.

Fabyan was quite proud of his windmill. Make sure you cross the Fox River and check it out.

Over the River to the Windmill

In 1914, Fabyan purchased a Dutch-style windmill for $8,000 from Yorktown, Illinois, about 20 miles from its current location, and spent around $75,000 reconstructing it on the east bank of the Fox River. The windmill stands at an impressive 68 feet high and was originally built by Louis Blackhaus, a German immigrant and craftsman, between 1850 and 1860. 

But it was mainly a toy for Fabyan, who enjoyed showing it off to his Chicago friends. In 1979, the windmill was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and the following year, it was selected to be on a U.S. postage stamp as part of a series in a booklet called Windmills USA. 

Look for the fun Egyptianate benches on the lawn.

Preserving the Legacy of the Fabyan Villa and Forest Preserve

George died in 1936 and Nelle in 1939, and because they had no offspring, the Forest Preserve District of Kane County purchased the majority of the estate and opened the residence as a museum the following year. Starting in 1995, the nonprofit PPFV was enlisted to maintain and provide tours of the historic dwelling. The house was added to the National Registerof Historic Places in 1984. 

The four of us had a wonderful time wandering the paths that cross the bucolic park-like setting of the historic estate, with plenty of photo opportunities along the way. It’s an easy drive (just over 40 minutes from Chicago) and it’s remarkable to consider the lasting scientific achievements that germinated from the Fabyans’ private research center. If you’re looking for a fun place to visit that combines architecture and nature, the Fabyan Villa is open for tours from May to October. –Duke

 

Fabyan Villa Museum & Japanese Garden

Fabyan Forest Preserve
1925 South Batavia Avenue
Geneva, Illinois, USA 

11 Tips When Visiting Xochimilco

Here’s what to know about trajineras, how to rent these Xochimilco boats, and how to get the most of your trip to chinampas and the Isla de las Muñecas.

Xochimilco is nicknamed the Venice of Mexico City — though the boats are much more whimsical than Italian gondolas.

Wally enjoyed a pleasant few hours at Xochimilco.

1. Pronounce it properly.

It’s “So-chee-meel-ko.”

“A long table runs the length of the trajinera, situated under a canopy. Food and socializing are the main priorities. ”

Floating gardens called chinampas line the waterways.

The Xochimilco canals are some of the only remaining features from Aztec times.

2. Learn a bit about its history before you go.

The Xochimilco canals are a vestige of the ancient Aztec Empire and still provide much-needed water to Mexico City. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, they’re located about 17 miles south of the Centro Histórico. 

The name is from Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and translates to Flower Garden, a reference to the “floating gardens” now known as chinampas. These man-made islets are situated throughout the waterways and are covered with fruits, vegetables and other plants. (We passed a large poinsettia farm on our excursion.) They’re a clever way to create more arable land in the midst of a wetland. 

We chose to launch from Embarcadero Nuevo Nativitas.

3. Choose your embarkation point.

This confused us a bit, as there are a few different spots you can launch from. We ended up choosing Embarcadero Nuevo Nativitas, as it’s the best spot to leave from to visit the closest Island of the Dead Dolls (see below). 

Duke and Wally aboard the Esperanza

No motors on these boats — they’re propelled and steered by a pole.

4. Don’t worry about haggling over the price.

Duke and I walked the docks, looking out at the brightly colored armada, wondering how we were going to choose one of the flat-bottomed boats known as trajineras, which sport painted archways and look like Mardi Gras floats. But then one of the captains, Sandro, approached us and offered to take us out for 500 pesos an hour (about $25 an hour). We had no idea if this was a good price — but he pointed to an official sign that had that rate right on it. That sold us, and we were glad we didn’t have to barter. So Captain Sandro aboard the Esperanza (which translates to Hope) it was!

A nearby store provided snacks and adult beverages to enjoy on our boat ride.

5. Bring some food and drinks.

As our Uber pulled into Nativita, the first thing we did was pop into a local market and buy some snacks and booze. We were glad to find a shop but next time we’ll plan a bit better and make sure we have a picnic, including fixings for margaritas. In fact, it would be a lot of fun to have a party on one of the boats. A long table runs the length of the trajinera, situated under a canopy. Food and socializing are the main priorities. 

Some of the boats in the waterways are the equivalent of floating food trucks.

The delicious quesadillas we had for lunch that were made by a nice couple aboard a trajinera.

6. But save room for the waterborne food vendors.

It’s not too tragic if you forget to bring along some food. There are people who paddle narrow, flat boats along the canals, selling freshly made Mexican dishes. We bought quesadillas from a nice couple who parked near the Island of the Dead Dolls (hold your horses — it’s coming up).

Hire a mariachi band and have a dance party aboard your trajinera.

Strains of mariachi music can often be heard on the canals.

7. Hire a floating mariachi band.

We cheated and just enjoyed hearing the strains of the lively music as we passed by. There are entire boats filled with musicians in their traditional garb, and we saw a couple of bands aboard a rented trajinera, playing their tunes as people danced.

Horrifying (but cool) dolls like this are strung up all over the Island of the Dead Dolls.

The creepy Isla de las Muñecas

8. Plan a trip to the Island of Dead Dolls.

If you like creepy, off-the-wall spots, like we do, you have to stop by la Isla de las Muñecas, aka the Island of the Dead Dolls. This small isle is covered with dolls left in offering to appease the ghost of a little girl who drowned. Duke and I had found a doll on the street behind the Uptown Theater in Chicago, brought it with us to CDMX and left it on the island. Read more about the Island of Dead Dolls here.

As the day wears on, the canals get more and more crowded.

9. You might want to go a bit early in the day. 

We had a relatively early start to our excursion, and the canals weren’t too busy for most of the time we spent there. Until, that is, we started heading back, and the canals were utterly clogged. When we got back to the embarcadero, I didn’t know how we were going to get through the traffic jam to dock. But Captain Sandro somehow eventually  maneuvered us through the deadlock. 

While we visited Xochimilco, the bizarre Danza de los Voladores was taking place.

10. Don’t miss the Danza de los Voladores.

After a pleasant couple of hours on the canals, we disembarked and walked around Nuevo Nativitas, where some market stalls had been set up. We cut over to head back to the parking area — and beheld quite a sight! Four men were hanging head-first in the air, spinning around a pole, held by ropes tied around their ankles. They circled the pole while one of their compatriots played something between a pipe and a percussion instrument while sitting atop the pole. I had actually seen such a spectacle on the Yucatán and knew it was a traditional ceremony — it’s part of the native Totonaca people’s folk culture and is known as la Danza de los Voladores, or the Dance of the Flying Men.

While you’re in this neck o’ the woods, visit the Museo Dolores Olmedo to see a large collection of Frida and Diego paintings on the grounds of an amazing estate.

11. Pair Xochimilco with a visit to the Dolores Olmedo Museum.

This gorgeous estate holds one of the largest collections of the works of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Come for the art, stay for the peacocks that roam the grounds. From Embarcadero Nuevo Nativitas, it’s about a 10-minute drive away. Read more about the Museo Dolores Olmedo here. 

Before we left for Mexico City, a couple of friends who had lived there told us we absolutely had to check out Xochimilco — and they were right. It’s definitely one of the things that we will do again when we return. –Wally

This perro hopped from boat to boat in search of food and affection.

Duke’s on a boat!