"He often ordered off-menu, for no better reason than to indicate to his guests that he was on familiar terms with the chef."
Alec Demeter by Seymour Clare
At a quarter past nine on the north side of the river, Alec Demeter stepped out of his front door and into a waiting black cab. Eric had picked him up at the same time every weekday morning for the past two years but the two men had never exchanged more than a few words. He sat back with his long legs crossed out in front of him and unfolded the day's headlines as the cab hammered down St. John Street, around Smithfield, toward the architectural practice in Blackfriars he'd started fifteen years ago with his once-friend Jonathan Palmer.
Inseparable during their days at university, the two men had remained close after graduation. In a yellowing pub on Greek Street where the landlord shouted at the customers but still served the cheapest pints in the west end, they dreamt up plans for perfect cities and all that they would build together. They each apprenticed themselves to leading firms in order to learn everything they could from the incumbent architectural giants before they struck out on their own. The day Jonathan got offered partnership, he handed in his notice and took out a lease on a small studio in Farringdon, where Alec joined him shortly after. Palmer-Demeter Associates was a success from the start and the two men were feted as rising stars of the New Architecture, winning plaudits from both the architectural world and the mainstream press as well. As the commissions became increasingly prestigious however, the distance between Alec and Jonathan grew at a rate approximate to Alec's evolution from person to personality until they were simply business associates, nothing more.
Alec wore his thick grey hair slightly wild, as he had all his life, though the once unruly scruff had straightened in middle age. He was no less attractive at forty-six than he had been at twenty-six. Frequent business lunches indulged his predilection for fine food in fêted restaurants, but he was vain enough to restrict himself to sparkling mineral water and grilled fish. He often ordered off-menu, for no better reason than to indicate to his guests that he was on familiar terms with the chef at this or that establishment, who, yes, would be delighted to grill some sole for Mr Demeter. A tall man, he wore his height like a medal, boasting his professional stature and social status. He regarded his appearance as an outward indication of the man he was, and consequently took great care with it. He had the physique of a man still sexually active, and the smile of one who knows he can still seduce women his daughter's age.
Today he wore a dark grey linen suit over an immaculate white shirt with a mandarin collar, but it was a signature from which he rarely deviated. He owned a half a dozen of these suits, identical in every detail. Alec liked that people had come to expect the suit, the look, at drinks parties and press conferences, at lectures and the occasional television appearances. He liked to think when people heard him speak on the radio they imagined him exactly as he sat in the studio: the suit, the shirt, the expensive handmade shoes, and in winter, a black cashmere scarf and a self-consciously old fashioned homburg hat. He took this same signatory approach to his buildings. They all - be they airports, schools, private holiday homes or concert halls - spoke the same language. Each a vision of himself in concrete and glass.
The meeting had already started by the time Alec arrived. He ignored Jonathan's icy stare and turned to address the rest of the room; 'My sincere apologies for this late entrance, I do hope I haven't missed too much.'
Pause. Smile. 'I trust Jonathan's been looking after you.'
For all his vanity and amour-propre, he was undeniably charming. He had a gift for effortlessly commanding absolute attention. People wanted to be liked by him, often against their better judgement.
Jonathan started to précis what Alec had missed but was swiftly interrupted,
'I'm delighted we could come together here today, and I'm looking forward to a fruitful relationship on this most exciting project.'
He sauntered over to his vacant chair at the head of the meeting table and stood behind it, resting his elbows on the back.
'Jonathan, perhaps you could quickly bring me up to speed.'
Jonathan gave a clenched smile and ran through the preceding minutes, introducing two new additions to the client's team; a wiry Swiss man of indeterminate age and a slim French PR whose pretty face was obscured by a pair of severe steel glasses. Alec greeted them distractedly, his thoughts already on the site across the river. This was the biggest commission of his career; a new international HQ for a Swiss bank with the kind of brief and budget to make even the stoniest architect weep hot tears of hallelujah. When Alec submitted plans for a design that would assure the bank first place on the international architectural and financial landscapes, the client had accepted without hesitation. The markets we bullish, business was booming, now was the time for a monument to success. The sharply twisting glass tower would out-reach by far every new building that had mushroomed up in the financial district in recent years, each one more ambitious than the last; taller, bigger, more futuristic or high-tec. But none of them came close, in height or design, to Alec's tower-to-be and he silently anticipated a Pritzker Prize in recognition.
Contracts were signed, press statements released and champagne uncorked. Alec tapped his glass and rose to give the assembled party of staff and clients a little speech,
'...As architects we have a powerful responsibility both to the landscape of the city, and the people that give life to it, and so it is with devoir and commitment that Palmer-Demeter look forward to creating this bold new view.'
Architects are little gods, thought Alec as he raised his glass to toast the tower; it is we, not the vaunted He, that shape the world we live in, which in turn shapes us.
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Seymour Clare is the author of two novels and a collection of short stories. Alec Demeter is a character from his next book. He currently lives in LA.
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Thursday, 23 September, 2010
In Character studies
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