What Makes it a Trophy Building?

Like how up-marketed luxury apartments replaced comfortable dwellings, everybody advertises their office space as Class A today. No strict definition exists, but Class A denotes new or newly-renovated, spacious lobbies, the works. Owners, who own both upscale and modest office space, are allowed to have Class B space for rent. With it, they get to upsell the business owner’s pride: after all, a fancy office announces that you’ve made your corner-office fantasies come true.

Engineering and service firms, and credit unions, led by practical people, settle into Class B space such as aging suburban office parks. Intellectually honest leaders know that free snacks are more valuable to the employees than the goldfish pond in a Class A lobby.

Class C for “creative”. Not techie creatives, but artists and struggling non-profits. It is the low-rent and cramped spaces above downtown stores; or obsolete, like how 40 Wall Street and the Singer Buildings in New York were perceived. The Singer Building was demolished in 1968, and Donald Trump claimed to have bought 40 Wall Street for $1 million in the 1990’s.  

Above all this is the Trophy office. Not long ago, “Trophy” offices meant monumental architecture. The Sears Tower in Chicago, the Empire State Building in New York are two examples. Today, grade inflation creates a lot more Trophies. In downtown DC, an office building, designed in any other shape than a space-maximizing cube, is a Trophy Building with eye appeal. Several include the replacement Washington Post buildings, with windows reminiscent of newsprint leaves fluttering through the automated printing press; and City Center- it has a pedestrian alley and balconies.   

Another Trophy project in DC is a squat five-story building just north of the White House. During renovation, the owners downgraded from a marble siding to red limestone. How does it deserve the distinction of a Trophy? You see, Corporate America captured the AFL-CIO building, jackhammering to pieces any marble engraving that reeked of “solidarity” and “brotherhood”. The interior was gutted down to bare concrete: no Union Label stuck on a door or refrigerator would survive the purge. A building once owned, in practical terms, by representatives of working men and women, has now been cleansed and reoriented towards the full service of capitalism. Now that’s a Trophy.