Loft Life

Inside the century-old home of the city's newest architecture star.

“When I designed my current home, I based it on the space itself. It’s a 1906 loft—it’s not modern, but it has a lot of character.”

Architect Chris Pardo is sitting in a Capitol Hill coffee shop a few blocks from his Pine Street office. He sips a large black Americano and continuously apologizes for responding to texts while we talk. “It’s MD stuff,” he explains, referring to Manhattan Drugs, the low-lit, lounge-inspired 12th Avenue steakhouse he opened on Jan. 5 with his business partner and fiancé, Laura Olson. He looks up from his iPhone and laughs. “What was I saying again?”

Pardo’s distraction is understandable. Manhattan Drugs is the latest addition to an emergent empire that already includes six other businesses: two Po Dog locations that serve gourmet hot dogs, Detention Bar in the University District, a sports bar called Auto Battery, the steampunk-inspired Grim’s café and the tree-lined nightclub The Woods. And, for Pardo, those are just side projects.

The 32-year-old architect is the “P” in Pb Elemental, a modern architecture firm he started in 2004 with partner David Biddle while they were completing their Master’s degrees in Architecture at the University of Washington.

“When we started talking about our thesis project we decided to work together,” Pardo says. “A lot of people were turning in fake opera house models or little City Halls, and we looked at each other and said, ‘We can do better than that. Let’s build a couple of houses.’”

Which is exactly what they did. Despite discouragement from professors, Pardo and Biddle set out to build two free-standing homes in the Central District. They struggled to find land, bank loans and contractors who fit their budget. When contractor bids came in at twice what Pb could afford, Pardo looked into becoming a contractor in Washington State. For $80 and a few pages of paperwork, he got a license—and he and Biddle began building the houses themselves. 

“I would go out to the site and supervise, and David would go to class and take notes, then the next day we would switch,” Pardo says. “We worked seven days a week for four months.” The homes sold quickly. Within a month they had 35 customers and Pb Elemental was born.

Known for inventive modern design, Pb combines the minimalism of Japanese architecture with the warm, natural materials of Scandinavian design. The typical Pb home features clean lines, strong angles, an open floor plan and lots of big windows—making them coveted in Seattle.

So why don’t Pardo and Olson live in a Pb Elemental house?

“I’ve lived in five,” he says, “but I want to be in walking distance to everything on Capitol Hill, including my office. If I had the opportunity to build within a 10-block radius of that, I would.”

For now, Pardo and Olson live in the heart of Capitol Hill, above one of their restaurants in a building that was once a Model-T storage warehouse and later an automobile tire factory. Pardo found the loft while scouting the location for a restaurant, Olson says one afternoon at Grim’s. The landlord showed him the space on a whim. Pardo recalls an instant connection; as soon as he saw the loft he knew he had to live there. 

“It had no kitchen and only one bathroom. But there were 22-foot ceilings and large exposed beams,” he says, describing the bare bones of the space. “It has a lot of character—and not always in an awesome way. The floors have a four-inch slope to them.” 

With the landlord’s permission, Pardo began a series of renovations in October 2010, adding a full kitchen, a walk-in closet, a laundry room and a second bathroom. He also ripped out the small 2-foot by 3-foot westward facing windows and replaced them with huge panes that measure 10 by 20 feet. The couple jokes that they have the best view in town on a Friday night—and they often curl up with a glass of wine to watch the drunken revelers on the street below.

The renovated loft’s 1,600 square feet are home to the couple and their three dogs: pug Harley, Boston terrier Walter and golden retriever Hayden. When you enter the loft, a long hallway leads you to the main living area. The entire south side of the space is an 80-foot terracotta brick and concrete wall. The high, pitched ceilings are striped with narrow wooden slats and exposed cast iron pipes run along the perimeter of the space. A second bedroom and Olson’s office are perched above the open kitchen and living room.

The furnishings are all modern. A charcoal sofa and two leather chairs anchor the living room, along with two large paintings by artist John Osgood.

“The objects we chose for the inside are more scaling elements,” Pardo says, explaining the sofa, dining table and chairs and benches beneath the windows. “The beauty of our space is in the space itself.”

“It is completely authentic, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Olson says while showing me around. She stops in the living room, pointing to the vaulted ceiling and old-growth floors, which are original to the building.

The irony of living in a turn-of-the-century loft is not lost on Pardo, who says he’s always loved old buildings. 

“Whatever you do with a space has to be consistent with what the space is,” he stresses. “We have a modern space with industrial décor. The modern part doesn’t necessarily reflect the space as it was originally built, but it reflects how it is being used now.”

Two pieces by artist John Osgood (painted on salvaged doors) add color to the seating area. Walter keeps guard at the windows.

Olson and Pardo share a moment with Walter, a member of their canine clan.

Behind Olson’s loft office is a bed for guests. Old ammunition boxes from Fort Lewis serve as furniture.

Photography by Steve Korn.