Cuadra San Cristóbal: Barragán’s Striking Horse Ranch Home

The Mexican architect’s masterpiece of modern architecture is framed by brightly colored walls and a signature fountain.

Duke and Wally absolutely loved visiting Cuadra San Cristóbal, an amazing home and horse ranch designed by Luis Barragán.

Luis Barragán is, undeniably, one of the most influential architects of the 20th century. Revered for his mastery of color, light and shadow, which blend vernacular hacienda elements with modernist influences, the Mexican architect’s legacy continues to inspire and influence contemporary design. 

Brightly colored walls meet at right angles and form artistic vistas everywhere you look.

It had been a dream of mine to see the famous pink-hued walls of the Cuadra San Cristóbal equestrian estate. The iconic ranch has served as the backdrop for countless creative projects, including an editorial campaign featuring French model Léa Seydoux shot onsite for Louis Vuitton in 2016 (which, naturally, included a horse or two).

Louis Vuitton did a fashion shoot at Cuadra San Cristóbal, which turned out pretty freakin’ cool.

“I had seen photos — but the color, form, texture and scale cannot truly be comprehended without experiencing the design in person.”

When Wally and I had the opportunity to visit the modernist landmark on a trip to CDMX, I searched the web to plan our pilgrimage and found the Traveling Beetle, an architectural guide service that offered a half-day Barragán tour including access to this emblematic structure.

Barragán was an avid equestrian and in the 1960s, he directed his admiration for the bold and graceful four-legged creatures into the construction of the gated community of Los Clubes, a residential subdivision in Ciudad López Mateos designed to attract the equestrian elite of Mexico City. 

Wouldn’t you just love to sit and admire this view?

The private seven-and-a-half-acre estate was designed and built in collaboration with Barragán’s protégé Andrés Casillas from 1966 to 1967 as a home and horse ranch for Folke Egerström and his family. The two met while riding at the nearby Club Hípico Francés and shared a passion for the equestrian lifestyle.

The white portion is the family home, while the pink is an entrance to the gardens.

Barragán’s True Colors

Viewed from the street, the unassuming perimeter wall of Cuadra San Cristóbal presents a blank face, concealing the stables, fountain, courtyard, house and gardens beyond. Only the name spelled out in metal letters on a wall in front hints at the gentility of the property.

Duke, whose first name is actually Christopher, or Cristóbal in Spanish, points to his namesake attraction.

San Cristóbal was part of a half-day excursion with the Traveling Beetle, during which we tooled around in this tomato-red VW Bus.

The unassuming front door to the complex doesn’t offer even the slightest hint of the gorgeousness beyond.

Wally and I exited the mint-condition orange-red ’76 VW Combi Bus and followed Martín, our tour guide, passing through a wooden door that led to an open patio paved with squares of volcanic basalt stone. It was late morning and the sunlight gave the Egerström family home a soft glow. The white Cubist-looking structure stood to our left, its façade absent of ornamentation save for a slatted rectangular window. Directly ahead of us, a hedge and tree hid the courtyard beyond. The opening was framed by a white wall to one side and a rust-red wall to the other. We glimpsed a bright pink wall beyond and a cascade of water. Talk about a dramatic entrance.

Martín gestured to the opening. “The walls act like curtains to the main stage,” he said. “Barragán was a showman.”

The entrance to the home on the property, still owned by the Egerström family.

Our guide, Martín, described the walls, one white, the other brick red, as curtains of sorts, framing the spectacle to come.

We followed the sound of the gurgling water that spilled in a steady stream from a spout in a massive wall into a shallow basin. The pool reflects the sky, evoking a sense of tranquility but also serving a practical purpose as a trough to provide horses with water and to keep cool. 

The first glimpse of the courtyard at Cuadra San Cristóbal

Barragán was inspired by the Islamic gardens of the Alhambra in Spain and elements of Moorish architecture in North Africa, which focused on interior life arranged around a peaceful open courtyard garden and fountain. 

Even though the cuadra is in a neighborhood, it’s easy to forget this. Everywhere you look, you’re surrounded by greenery, and walls frame the open space, ensuring privacy. Barragán, you see, was at heart an introvert.

Barragán is known for his rectangular walls painted vibrant hues — especially this shade of magenta, which has become Mexico City’s official color.

The Wonderwalls of Cuadra San Cristóbal

As we moved closer to the courtyard, the white walls of the home receded to reveal a kinetic energy of broad intersecting horizontal and vertical planes awash in rosa mexicano (bougainvillea pink) and mauve (jacaranda purple). The palette was informed by Barragán’s lifelong friend and frequent collaborator, the painter Chucho Reyes. Colors build a strong contrast to the sand beneath our feet and the surrounding tropical flora. 

In fact, the colors were chosen to act as complementary tones to those provided by nature: The bright pink plays off the dark green of native plants; the tan wall provides a contrast with the blue sky; and the brick red wall pairs nicely with the aqua water in the pool.

A kaleidoscope of colors: brick red, magenta, aqua — and, of course, sky blue and green, provided by nature.

Right angles, pops of color, shifting shadows — these are all Barragán signatures.

Note the small gap where the two walls meet.

A sleeping schnauzer rests in the back corner of the courtyard.

The fountain at San Cristóbal is similar to another Barragán design, la Fuente de los Amantes.

I had seen photos of the very place where we were standing — but the color, form, texture and scale cannot truly be comprehended without experiencing the monumentality of the design in person. This is where I became acutely aware of Barragán’s use of scenic framing and spatial manipulation to create a dramatic sense of passage. Everywhere I looked, layers of color entered my field of vision. To me, this was truly a sacred space, where the concept of time seemed to dissolve. 

A copse of trees, including a jacaranda and an ombú, with its strange yellow fruit, act as an organic foil to the geometry of the measured lines. They stood in direct contrast to a pink wall with two vertical cutouts that suggested a citadel fortification but were, in fact, vents for hay bales. 

It’s easy to get caught up by the beauty of the space and forget that, at its heart, this is a horse ranch. But that’s exactly what it is, as you can see from the stables to the right.

Out to Pasture

We approached the stable and passed under the overhang of the boarding barn. Once home to 37 thoroughbred horses, the stalls were designed for the gentle giants to be able to see, smell and communicate with each other.  

“ Barragán was asked why he only built homes for the wealthy.

“And for horses,” he said. Then he added, “But horses are neither rich nor poor. They’re just horses.””

The clubhouse is located at the end of the stable near the fountain. Inside is a well-preserved teletype, which was used to send and receive printed messages and data via telephone cables, probably considered state-of-the-art at the time it was installed. Above eye level, a clerestory window perfectly frames a slice of the sky, illuminating the space with subtle natural light. Martín told us that Barragán didn’t include many built-in lights into his designs — instead, he relied on indirect sunlight and lamps.

After using the bathroom in the clubhouse, Wally came out with a big smile on his face. “We peed in a Barragán, bitches!” he whispered to me.

When we visited, there were only two horses kept at Cuadra San Cristóbal.

These two vertical openings are part of the dramatic wall of the courtyard. Here, at the back, you can see they have a purpose — offering ventilation for the hay.

A back entrance to the living quarters of the stables

It’s ironic that Barragán is famous for his intense color palette, when it was actually chosen by his friend, the painter Chucho Reyes.

All of the colors were chosen to match or complement that of the natural setting. The legendary pink, for instance, perfectly mirrors the blossoms of the property’s bougainvillea trees.

The purple wall is actually a gate that opens via gravity.

Duke pets Frida, one of the worker’s pet schnauzer.

A black schnauzer named Frida, owned by one of the workers, was napping in a corner of the yard and later came by to say hi to me. At the time of our visit, Cuadra San Cristóbal was home to a black cat who slinked by us as we made our way over to the pasture where a pair of horses, Little Girl and Carbonero, stood. When Wally asked about the name — Carbonero translates to Charcoal, a strange moniker for a white steed — Martín replied that it’s considered unlucky to give a white horse a name that refers to its color.

The garden is filled with cacti and palms.

Not Your Garden Variety Garden 

Many of the gardens designed by Barragán were intentionally left unmanicured in places. Martín led us to an unassuming secret garden concealed between an opening between the house and interior courtyard. Nature was incorporated throughout all of Barragán’s works, and landscapes were often designed by the architect himself. A magic tunnel of greenery hidden away in the woods behind the home led to a small wooden table. 

Barragán was a devout Fransican Catholic with deeply held spiritual beliefs. He felt that an essential part of his architecture should elevate the experience of its inhabitants, including plants, animals and humans. This private bower was a place for meditation and prayer, Martín told us. “It’s a place to have a deep conversation with the Almighty.” 

Such isolated spaces are an element in all of his works, Martín continued.

The green of the native plants offers a pleasant contrast to the hot pink walls.

Looking back toward another pasture, in a corner of which the family’s beloved donkey is buried

In another part of the back garden, a donkey that was a beloved family pet is buried among the hedges.

Martín spoke to one of the ranch hands, then beckoned for us to follow him, a twinkle in his eye. One of the owners who had been on the patio had gone back inside, so we would be allowed to see the Egerströms’ private pool area. We returned to the entrance portico, went up a few steps and made our way through a passage cast in shadow that suddenly opened to an intimate outdoor space. A pavilion overlooks a swimming pool and provides shelter from the sun. It would be a nice, quiet place to read — as attested by a recently abandoned newspaper that sat atop a table, fluttering in the breeze. 

We were fortunate enough to be able to explore the family’s private outdoor space.

How’d you like to cool off in this pool on a hot Mexico day?

The impressive swimming pool isn’t part of every tour. If the family is enjoying it, you won’t be able to see it.

Seen from any angle, Cuadra San Cristóbal is a masterpiece of harmony, scale and space. Even though it was built in the mid-’60s, its design remains modern and it certainly cemented my appreciation for Barragán. –Duke

 

Cuadra San Cristóbal

Cerrada Manantial Oriente 20
Mayorazgos de los Gigantes
52957 Ciudad López Mateos
México

Why We Love Barragán’s Fuente de los Amantes

The bright, modern Lovers’ Fountain reflects the equestrian neighborhood of Los Clubes, northwest of Mexico City. 

La Fuente de los Amantes, or the Lovers’ Fountain, by Luis Barragán

One of the first things you’ll notice when you enter the gated community of Los Clubes (The Clubs) is, well, the horse club. And just down the street is a lot showcasing Luis Barragán’s Fuente de los Amantes, or Lovers’ Fountain. 

Nods to the equestrian lifestyle are found everywhere in the design of this semi-public space. The “lovers” themselves are wooden horse troughs placed upright. A cobblestone path leading to the flat pool was constructed to present an inviting spot where horses could drink and cool off in the 4- to 5-foot-deep water. And the green space nearby was used for training. 

“La Fuente de los Amantes is pure Barragán.
Bright colors. Optical illusions. Designs that evoke emotion.”

The “lovers” are actually horse troughs placed upright — a nod to the equestrian neighborhood.

La Fuente de los Amantes is also pure Barragán. Bright colors. Optical illusions. Designs that evoke emotion as a reaction to the cold functionalism of Le Corbusier and his Bauhaus gang. 

“Barragán was good at taking rustic and traditional materials and turning them into something modern,” our guide, Martín, declared, showing us the cobblestones. His passion for Barragán definitely gave me a newfound appreciation for the architect. 

This cobblestone path was the entrance to the fountain and small park.

Wally stands on the intricate cobblestone pathway that leads to the fountain.

Martín pointed out another Barragán signature: walls that act as screens for shadows. When you stand on the side road, where the cobblestone path begins, one of the back walls is framed, and the shadows cast upon it act like a shifting work of art.

On one side, two of the walls meet to create a quiet chamber where one can imagine the rhythmic sound of a horses’ hooves merging with the soothing sound of falling water.

Barragán is known for bright colors, especially that pop of pink.

The Lovers’ Fountain took years to complete, wrapping up in 1964.

Nowadays the fountain only runs one hour a day, from 11 a.m. to noon. We visited as part of a half-day excursion with the Traveling Beetle. They, of course, timed our visit perfectly, and we got to see the water rushing along the aqueduct to pour down into the aqua-colored pool below. 

Where does the water go? If you look closely at the edge of the pool, you’ll spot a line of small holes, where the water filters in to be cycled back into the aqueduct.

The water in the fountain only runs for one hour a day now.

Horses would go into the fountain’s pool to cool off and get a drink of water.

Not to beat a dead horse, but Barragán rightfully holds his place as Mexico’s preeminent architect. The more you learn about his vision — and once you experience it in real life — the more admiration you’ll have for him. —Wally

 

Fuente de los Amantes

Manantial 10
Mayorazgos de los Gigantes
52957 Ciudad López Mateos
México

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Ojo de Agua: A Delightful Breakfast in La Condesa

Using fresh, locally sourced ingredients, this CDMX fast casual restaurant offers delicious egg, coffee and smoothie options. 

A fantastic breakfast (or coffee or smoothie) option in the La Condesa neighborhood of Mexico City

Some cities really do have it all: food, culture, adventure and more. On our fourth morning in CDMX, we ventured out for breakfast and decided to try Ojo de Agua. Situated off the picturesque Plaza Citaltépetl roundabout near the tree-lined Avenida Amsterdam, Ojo de Agua is a fast casual restaurant that wants you to eat on the healthier side — without being bland or boring. With its own bountiful fresh fruit and vegetable stand on display inside, a literal feast for the eyes, the concept reinforces the proverbial saying “you are what you eat.”

The fruit stand in Ojo de Aqua

The founder named the café after Ojo de Agua, the small town built around a freshwater spring pool located in the state of Michoacán, where the family is from. Their ethos “living a healthy life, in the company of people we love, in harmony with nature and strengthening habits which provide the body with tools to be fulfilled” rings true. The first location opened in the upscale Polanco neighborhood 14 years ago and the brand has since expanded to 23 locations in CDMX. 

The clean and simple logo (a white background with turquoise type and Fanta-blue droplets of water) offer a nod to the town’s namesake spring and can be seen under the awning.

A tasty breakfast at Ojo de Agua’s sidewalk café in La Condesa

A Healthy Way to Start the Day

The interior is casual and chic with big windows, concrete floors, patterned Mudéjar-style tile and white-painted brick walls, which makes it bright and welcoming. Plus, if you arrive early like we did, there’s outdoor seating where you can soak up the morning sun and people-watch while enjoying some of the tastiest food in La Condesa. 

You’ll find plenty of breakfast options to choose from on the menu, including açaí bowls, chilaquiles and cinnamon roll French toast. I ordered the santos ahogados, two poached eggs served in a cast-iron skillet over hoja santa, a large aromatic heart-shaped leaf plucked from the plant of the same name, complete with a generous helping of grilled panela cheese, in a broth of refried beans, salsa roja, salsa verde and sliced avocado. Wally ordered the huevos Polanco, made with two Parmesan cheese-crusted baked eggs served over an avocado purée and dressed with a za’atar-dusted cilantro jocoque, a fermented dairy product somewhere between yogurt and sour cream. My breakfast was savory, flavorful and very tasty. The salsa verde was relatively mild, while the salsa roja had a nice fiery heat to it. 

Wally couldn’t help but be jealous of that thick slice of grilled panela cheese on Duke’s santos ahogados.

I appreciated that real silverware was provided, neatly presented in kraft paper sleeves. The unmistakable and familiar strains of “Bohemian Rhapsody” by the British rock band Queen played over the speakers as we ate up every last bit of our breakfast. 

You’d be hard-pressed to find cuter details than this citrus juicer that acts as a napkin holder.

After breakfast, we made a beeline to the juice bar and ordered the South Face, a combination of fresh mango, passion fruit and pineapple juice. We also purchased a small jar of smoky salsa matcha. I’m considering tossing it with some roasted root vegetables or putting it on some chilaquiles. Needless to say, we left very happy and full. –Duke

 

Ojo de Aqua

Condesa Hipódromo 23C
06100 Ciudad de México
Mexico

Immersive Frida: An Incredible, Must-See Show

Compared to this amazing spectacle honoring the life and work of Frida Kahlo, the Immersive Van Gogh is a mere screensaver. 

If you’re in Mexico City, see Immersive Frida while you can!

We parted the strings of rope as we would a curtain, fittingly, from beneath one of Frida’s long Tehuana skirts, and were instantly transported into a magical world. 

Duke and I headed toward an empty round ottoman but we both stopped right as we were about to sit down — the seat appeared to be moving! 

After a few seconds, our vision adjusted and we realized it was just a trick of the eye from the projected patterns that filled the walls and drifted across the white sand covered floor. We laughed and took a seat. 

In the center of the gallery a circle of rope curtains bisected the gallery. These moved periodically, sometimes swirling, sometimes opening to reveal the other half of the exhibit space for dramatic vistas. 

Rings of curtain-like ropes open and close to reveal dramatic vistas across the room.

Other rope curtains were placed at either end of the main room, acting as screens for the projections of Frida Kahlo’s paintings. 

The show takes place at Frontón México, a large entertainment venue.

The spectacle Duke and I attended was Frida: The Immersive Experience (Frida: la Experiencia Inmersiva) held in Mexico City at Frontón México. This massive building, which once served as a jai lai court from the 1920s until the mid-’90s, reopened after a multimillion-dollar overhaul in 2017 as a multipurpose entertainment venue that includes a casino. It’s right across the street from the Plaza de la República and is a 12-minute walk to the Palacio de Bellas Artes, which we explored after the show.

Duke posing in the lobby

Frida in 360 Degrees 

Halfway through Immersive Frida, we decided to get up to discover what it was like in the curtained portion at the center of the room. The ropes spun in circles and it was like walking through a curved passageway with moving walls. Then we were inside the bower, with slashes of light illuminating the space. Above us hung a chandelier of sorts, a cascade of white paper flowers that shifted in color, sometimes glowing light blue or purple, interspersed with dark red lightbulbs dripping like drops of blood.

The chandelier shifts colors throughout the show.

After a bit of time here and wanting to see new perspectives, we emerged and found seats on the other side of the room, where we remained for the rest of the show. 

The creators of the exhibit took elements from Frida’s paintings — a bug-eyed jaguar mask from (Girl with Death Mask, 1938), a leaf, an alarm clock and airplane from (Time Flies, 1929), and (The Two Fridas) — cut them out and filled the screen with them. Then parts of famous paintings would peek out from the collage, and you have to constantly look around to see different objects: Diego’s eye here, Frida’s mustache over there, the leg of a deer behind you. There’s nonstop movement and animation, and even voice recordings of Frida herself, waxing poetic about her love for Diego. 

Elements of Frida’s paintings are isolated and presented as a moving collage.

Then elements from other paintings reveal themselves, like this one of Diego.

Immersive Frida includes some audio footage of the artist speaking.

Frida’s famous paintings truly come to life.

You’ve got to constantly look in all directions during the show — there’s something new to see everywhere you look.

A somber set of images, like the ones about the spinal injury that plagued the iconic artist most of her life, were accompanied by intense, moody music. At one point, Frida’s chest opened and a corset wove itself around her shoulders and torso to reveal a broken column within. But then the images would turn bright, as when nature scenes began to populate, and the music became optimistic, energetic, paired with happier imagery. 

A terrible accident Frida suffered as a youth informed many of her paintings.

One segment of the exhibit features nature scenes.

At the end of the show, be sure to explore both ends of the room. Beyond the curtains on the side you enter, there are two cool photo opps with elements from the show, along with a long monitor where you can write and have your scribblings show up as colored streaks. Through the ropes at the other end of the exhibit space are a line of interactive stations where crazy creatures created from aspects of Frida’s paintings react to your movements. The more you dance around, flail your arms and jump, the more fun it is to watch the character on screen mimic you.

The photo opps at the end of the show are worthwhile.

A series of interactive exhibits put a fun end to the amazing show.

We’ve seen the Immersive Van Gogh in Chicago. While it’s cool in its way, it struck us as one-note; the media felt more static and didn’t evoke much emotion. To be honest, even the interactive moments after the Frida show were more enjoyable than the $50 we shelled out for Van Gogh. And for only $17 a ticket, Immersive Frida is a steal.

It’s obvious the curators and creators of the show loved their job and greatly respect Frida’s legacy— that appreciation and dedication shine through every moment of the 45-minute spectacle. If you couldn’t already tell, we highly recommend going. If we lived in Mexico City, or if the show makes its way to Chicago, we would certainly come again. Immersive Frida is so rich in imagery, and, as we had to spin around constantly and crane our necks to catch all the different views, we know that inevitably there was much we missed the first time. –Wally

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Find Out More About Frida!

9 Fascinating Facts About Frida

La Casa Azul, the Frida Kahlo Museum

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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