A home that’s closer than home
Like any prudent potential renter, Elliott Block did the math first: The cost to lease a downtown Los Angeles apartment would put him back $1,295 a month, but he could subtract the $500 he shells out on gas to commute 136 miles each workday from his Orange County home to his job in the Financial District. By living near his office, he could also convert the 60 hours he spends in stop-and-go traffic each month into billable hours. All of that equals ... where do I sign?
Block, a lawyer who lives in Aliso Viejo near the Irvine Spectrum, thinks he’s found a solution to the daily grind: a crash pad in downtown L.A. It would be compact and hold just the basics -- a couch, bed and a fridge -- but that’s OK because he’s only there to sleep Monday through Thursday, then it’s back to his scenic deck and wide-screen TV in the suburbs for the weekend.
“Right now I’m staying at friends’ houses or checking into the Biltmore hotel one or two nights a week,” says Block, who has been making the gnawing commute for six years. “I need to think of something more permanent. Maybe I’ll buy a condo in the city and rent out one of the rooms to another commuter. There are plenty of us.”
Call it a crash pad or a pied-a-terre, these temporary nesting spots long have been a fixture in Paris, Hong Kong, New York and Chicago. Slowly, they’re catching on in Los Angeles. The Urban Land Institute, a nonprofit research and education organization on land use and real estate development, predicts that more people will be moving into the city, lured by events at Staples Center and Walt Disney Concert Hall as well as exhibits, upscale restaurants and shops, and easier public transportation.
“There have always been a few people who’ve maintained pieds-a-terre to get away for the weekend, see a show or to stay for a few days when they fly in for business,” says John McIlwain, the Urban Land Institute’s senior resident fellow for housing who is based in Washington, D.C. “But in L.A., there’s another thing: traffic. We are going to see more established suburban families keeping their primary home and buying or renting an apartment downtown to use during the workweek to avoid brutal commutes.”
Most of the 4,000 downtown residential units that have opened their doors since 2000 -- an additional 6,000 are in various stages of planning, approval or construction -- are occupied by full-timers, but developers and rental agents say 10% of their tenants drive in and stay a night or two, then it’s back to their real home. The number of part-timers is greater in older high-rises and those with smaller, less costly units.
McIlwain, who moved out of his suburban Washington home to live closer to his city job, says it’s hard to track the number of suburbanites who can afford to camp in the city during the workweek. But, he says, “we’re on the front end of a trend. It makes sense. They avoid the congestion hassle and improve their quality of life.”
He and other housing experts think that as more people cash in on their home equity, they will think of buying a second home not in a vacation spot, but in the city. “L.A. is coming back really nice. People see it as a good investment,” he says. “And there is a value to a commuter’s time and energy.”
When Ray Cochran grew weary of his 104-mile commute from Laguna Beach to a downtown medical building, he started staying overnight in a spare office. Then he and his partner Gene Dippel stretched their finances to purchase a tiny studio in the 32-story Bunker Hill Tower near the Music Center. “People thought we were crazy to buy something we would only stay in a few nights a week,” Cochran says. “Conventional thinking was you just endured the commute each day. But it was a killer.”
Cochran and Dippel put the down payment for the 450-square-feet in-town pad on their credit cards. That was 27 years ago and they’ve never looked back. Since then, they have bought and sold four units in the building, upgrading in size, location or view each time. “The first studio was $68,000, which doesn’t seem like much until I remember that I was making $15,000 a year then,” says Dippel, who has since retired from managing Cal State Fullerton’s computer system. “The penthouse we live in now would go for $500,000, but we wouldn’t dream of selling it. We have invested emotionally in this tower.”
The couple, whose primary home is in Palm Springs, stay in L.A. a few nights a month to see a performance or have dinner with friends. “We come here for the arts, scenery, people and spiritual growth,” Dippel says. “We’re at the center of it all.”
City housing is attractive not only because it’s convenient to work and leisure activities, but the buildings are usually innovative in structure and design, says Andrew Weaving, an interior designer and author of “High-Rise Living.” Towering ceilings, few interior walls and enviable city views make these aeries desirable, he says, especially to someone who can be inventive in a shoebox space.
But the practice isn’t limited to downtown. In a high-rise a block from the upscale restaurants and clubs on Sunset Boulevard, designer Barclay Butera changed a pint-size studio into a sophisticated retreat with living room, kitchen and bedroom areas. “It has all the convenience of a hotel suite without the hassle of checking in,” says Butera, who has furniture showrooms in L.A., Newport Beach and Park City, Utah, and a place to call home in each city.
Other part-timers in his building are a Parisian who flies in for California sunshine and an attorney who crashes in town a few nights a week instead of driving home to Malibu. “I bought this place from a guy who lives in the Valley and kept it as his city residence,” says Butera. “More people are giving themselves the luxury of a second home.”
Butera, accustomed to designing lavish homes, was faced with a different challenge: making the space practical and chic. In his L.A. studio, sheer curtains outline the sleeping area, a vintage Gucci zebra rug defines the living room, transparent Philippe Starck chairs supply practical seating without adding visual bulk, and shutters hanging on a wall painted sky blue give the illusion of a window. The SUV-size kitchen leads to a terrace, where the furniture continues the black-and-white color scheme.
“Small is practical,” says Butera, who added pulses of color with a star-shaped gold chandelier and Matisse lithographs. “There is not at lot of maintenance. Just get up and go.
“When I’m here, I find that I’m more urban and more active in my community,” he says. “I’m surrounded by multigenerational wealth, new money, yuppies, actors and industry people. It puts me in L.A. mode.”
True, there’s something about a getaway apartment that brings out a carefree spirit. There are no stacks of paperwork, overstuffed closets, lawns to mow. Instead, make the bed, zip out the door, catch a show, shop.
Art Astor, who owns radio stations in San Diego and Riverside, is another part-timer who says the energetic rhythm of life in L.A. changes his personality. When he and his wife Antonia stay at their downtown loft, he has sudden urges to join the chanting crowds at Staples Center, eat out at every meal and even hop on a subway, something he would never do in his car-oriented world in the suburbs.
The Astors’ industrial-looking loft is filled with Art Deco furniture that was once kept in storage because it didn’t fit in the couple’s traditional ranch-style home in the Tustin Hills. The pieces are from the 1920s and 1930s, “L.A.’s golden age,” says Art Astor, who grew up in the city and attended USC. A post-Prohibition “Baradio,” a combination bar and radio in a cherrywood cabinet, sits between the open living room and kitchen.
The couple say their urban retreat makes it a breeze for them to entertain. Their kitchen has every appliance, yet they have used only the refrigerator since the loft was completed a year ago. Instead, it’s cocktails and store-bought appetizers served in the living room, which has a straight shot of Staples Center from 20-foot-high windows. Then down the elevator to dinner at the Palm restaurant or to the subway to Hollywood’s Musso & Frank’s. A game afterward? Sure, says Antonia, who calls the Lakers “a bunch of whiners” but still likes to see them play.
“I feel younger in the city,” says Art Astor, an energetic 80-year-old who has no plans to slow down. He wants to be where there’s action and quick transportation. “My dad retired to the suburbs and I could see the boredom in his face,” he says. “Here, I look out the window and always see something.”
Janet Eastman can be reached at janet.eastman@latimes.com
