A glasshouse is a dream.
And even in the middle of the landscaped gardens of the Greenbelt 5 Fashion Walk in the Makati Central Business District, where a glasshouse just opened early this month, home to French fashion house Balmain’s latest collections, it appears as a dream, so otherworldly.
For me, a glasshouse is a fantasy. It was the refuge I built in my head when I immersed myself in a People Synergistically Involved-organized meditation weekend, where we were asked to imagine a haven in our minds to allow us to escape into ourselves from the stresses of the world. Mine was a glasshouse at the bottom of an ocean, surrounded by breathtaking underwater scenery.
Historically, glasshouses are very European, tracing their roots to as far back as 30 AD, the reign of Tiberius Caesar, successor of Augustus, founder of the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, they have come a long way since the idea of a glasshouse was constructed back then, following the prescription of the royal physicians for Tiberius to eat “one cucumber-like vegetable a day,” an impossibility because such vegetables could only be grown at summertime, that is, until the empire’s prized gardeners came up with the idea that has since blossomed into greenhouses or conservatories, the dreamiest of which, in form, is the glasshouse.
Think of the Maison de Verre, tucked away in a charming courtyard in the 7th arrondissement in Paris. Think of the glasshouses of the Jardin des Plantes, just a skip, hop, and a jump away from Quartier Latin. Outside of Paris, think of the Shokan House made of highly reflective glass panels and a black steel frame perched on the edge of the Ashokan reservoir, just below the summit of a Catskill mountain in southeastern New York or, in the UK, which also boasts of the prettiest glasshouses, think of the Palm House, a Victorian masterpiece in the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh.
A glasshouse is always a good idea. It’s like a terrace or a beer garden or a rooftop bar or a park perfect for picnics, but it’s better because it makes invisible, by design, the line between indoors and outdoors. You’re in but you might as well have been out. With only clear glass keeping you in and the outdoor elements out, you have the best of both worlds, just like the cucumbers growing in the rough idea of a glasshouse in the dead of winter during Tiberius’ time.
Where it’s summer all year round, save for brief and not-so-brief interruptions of rain and storm, the Balmain glasshouse is a dream shimmering in Manila’s eternal sun, like a gorgeous European-style conservatory or solarium transported into the very heart of Makati City, replete with such well-thought-out details as the Marquina marble counter and the metallic painted modules.
What the 70-square-meter boutique offers is an immersive, if not sublime, brand experience, showcasing Balmain’s renaissance alongside its latest pret-a-porter collection and runway highlights in an atmosphere as inviting as a hammock in a garden or a raft on the lake or a swing on a hill, but more inviting because it’s made of glass. Glass has long captured the imagination of architects and world-builders because it is light, it is transparent, it is translucent, and it is reflective, bringing in the outside to make any indoor space feel bigger, airier, more relaxing.
A first in Philippine retail, the open, floor-to-ceiling, glass-walled structure provides a refreshing shopping experience in an eternally sunlit environment, framed by plush cream velvet curtains and white wool carpeting.
Tres, tres chic!