Icing On

Seems that the emphasis now, is on the visuals, the"icing" and not necessarily, the cake. In city condo towers, the main draw, isn't space, but the "icing" of the outside appearance of the structure. Some tall towers look pregnant, others have a twist, still others are bridged from one to another and yet others are festooned with trees. Condo living, once regarded as starter homes, has become a lifestyle to people who live alone, couples who have careers and dogs instead of children and seniors who find life in them, with assistance, the way to go. There are few units that don't offer steel, stone and stingy space. When you look at the interiors in the ads, there is little sign of actual human  habitation. Or at least the messy, normal kinds of people I know. When you step through the door after your elevator trip, you gasp. The ceiling reaches to the clouds. In the great room, another term for no walls at all, there are a few pretty vases with a stick or three of something green, a set of en tone pillows on a fragile looking couch and more on an even skimpier artsy chair. The eating area is a bar without shots but with backless stools and a bevy of stainless steel appliances snicked into stretches of gleaming stone. ( Believe me, keeping the glow on these things is work, if you buy the place.) The bedrooms hold an ultra neat looking multi pillowed bed beside a night table with a gumball lamp. And that's all the little room can hold. The smooth bathroom is a match for the kitchen sans fridge and stove, but with a combo tub shower affair in white acres of more stone. It dazzles. The clothes closets are for minimalists. They have 2 pairs of designer shoes, an LBD and a leather jacket. ( My home closet bulges but don't tell anyone or I'd be named a hoarder.) Back to the living room area, turn around and one step off, you might find a TV. It's plastered on the wall like a black picture frame.  The book shelf holds five books and three ceramics en tone.  These don't look a bit like my book shelf that is cluttered with memorabilia and whose books refuse to cooperate into their stalls.  I am ashamed to say, they are completely off the scale as to colours that fit the room. But enough of that, and let's move on to the cute little fuzzy rugs. There aren't many.  And no one should step on their hairy selves. Engineered wood means a skinny coating of real wood, the others are plastic photographs of it. Can't win. Then meet the taps and door knobs that are so elegant, you could hang them around your neck. Colours are muted which means they say absolutely nothing. The art painting, the size of a sheet, is evidently done by mad toddlers. They're mad because they've been given only one colour: grey. Then we come to the cabinets. These will hold, as my son who lives in a condo tower says, exactly three of  spoons, forks, knives, a pot and a fry pan. The expensive big items are the Samurai knife, the cappuccino machine and the cocktail shaker. Don't even ask about a laundry. You won't need a comb either. The price will make your hair rise from every follicle. It's all icing, but you have to consider the cake, the city turf it sits upon.