Normally, a new structure is safe from the wrecking ball so long as it is structurally sound, but not so with 15 Clerkenwell Close, a housing block that is at issue for reasons of appearance rather than engineering (and despite recently winning an RIBA award). Designed by architect Amin Taha, the six-story facade features raw quarried limestone stone (with exposed fossils) that the Islington Council argues was not adequately represented in planning documents, and therefore never properly approved. Taha also lives in the threatened building.

But there may be more to the story: Taha believes the decision to demolish was led by the planning committee chair not for failure to disclose but rather a personal dislike for the building’s unusual visual expression. He says it is “entirely on the initial opinion of the councillor and a handful of neighbours” and that it “has now escalated from an error in not uploading the stone approval – so that it was evident for anyone who cared to look – to the mistaken first demolition notice, to the now face-saving second notice entirely driven by someone’s opinion that it’s ugly.”

“After an investigation, the council has come to the view that the building at 15 Clerkenwell Close does not reflect the building that was granted planning permission and conservation area consent in 2013,” an Islington Council spokesperson said. “In the council’s view, the existing building does not benefit from planning permission, and the council issued an enforcement notice” earlier this year.

The building has drawn both praise and criticism, having been nominated for the Carbuncle Cup (a “worst building” award in the UK) while also being nominated for other more positive awards. But there’s a deeper question at work here: how much say should communities have in the appearance of new structures around them? Aesthetic-based choices made by citizens can result in truly powerful architecture never seeing the light of day, or in this case: being threatened with destruction despite being perfectly functional. In the end, too, if the building facade is deemed by the council to be too offensive to stand, why not simply demand that it be reworked into some kind of compromise? (images by Timothy Soar)

It’s easy to pan high fashion for being expensive, impractical and out of touch with reality, and all the more so when a fashion item resembles an upcycled everyday item like a car’s floor mat.

Balenciaga, an upscale fashion house, is under fire from frugal bloggers and social media critics for a $2,200 skirt that someone could arguably emulate with a quick trip to Home Depot for floor mats and fasteners.

Indeed, a fashion-minded do-it-yourself type could find a lot more to work with in all of the various patterns available for these kinds of coverings. Perhaps the lesson here isn’t that they’re doing it wrong, but taking inspiration from an unlikely everyday source (and adding a bit much of a markup).

And the fashion house is no stranger to controversy. Earlier this year, they debuted a bright blue tote back, which internet denizens quickly began comparing to IKEA shopping bags. The company eventually responded in good humor, reminding people they could get the original version for under a dollar.

But as the saying goes: all press is good press, so whether or not this particular line takes off Balenciaga’s ongoing provocations are sure to generate periodic buzz for the business (for better or worse).

Seated at the center of a new design-related copyright conversation, a series of Eiffel chairs sold by discount superstore Aldi has designers arguing on both sides.

The chairs in question look significantly like the DSW Eames Plastic Chair (designed by Charles and Ray Eames in 1950), currently made by copyright holders Vitra in Switzerland.

Critics point out that Aldi has been caught doing this before, selling things like Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Chair on countries where it can avoid copyright entanglements, either because the copyrights have expired or replicas are permitted by law.

Defenders of the discount retailer argue that the entire point of these plastic chairs was to create something cheap, comfortable and easy to mass produce. In other words: the fact that replicas sell for 40 GBP and licensed remakes sell for ten times that goes against the intent of the designers.

Either way, Aldi seems to way to stay out of the fray, perhaps planning to hide behind slight design differences when it comes to the structure, materials and details of the seats.

In some places, like the United Kingdom, changes to laws have been proposed or are in the works, which may provide additional protections for rights holders now and into the future.

There is a larger question at work here though too: how close do designs have to be for them to risk creating intellectual property controversies? There are, after all, only so many ways to plan, design and construct a chair for a human occupant. These days, so many 3D models of seats have been uploaded to programs like SketchUp and it is easier than ever to simply cut, paste and print a copy of one’s own on a 3D printer.

After a huge and lengthy legal battle fought on various fronts by developers, municipalities and the Council of State, the Turkish government has ordered the partial destruction or total demolition of multiple large buildings said to threaten the historic architectural heritage of Istanbul (above image via Gokorg).

When speaking of skylines, one generally thinks of of the towers that define them – but the courts have ruled that modern-day Istanbul (not Constantinople) is not allowed to reach for new heights, or even maintain its currently-constructed ones. Adding pressure to the mix, Unesco has threatened to revoke the city’s status as a World Heritage Site, in part due to rampant urban development (additional images by Moyan Brenn).

At the heart of this particular legal issue are views of a series of structures long central to the civic identity of Istanbul, including the Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace and Blue Mosque, all of which are now being overshadowed by three new structures standing dozens of stories tall. These new threats to the existing sihuoette are part of Onalti Dokuz complex, a residential development already largely finished.

Detractors are celebrating the victory, which started with legal attacks beginning last year. From Dezeen and the Turkish newspaper Todays Zaman, “two legal cases were launched against the development – one seeking cancellation of the permits for the construction of the building and another to shut down the construction and destroy parts of the buildings that had already been completed.”

The government has rejected appeals by the developers and city, and it remains unclear who will pay for the cost of the necessary size reductions the buildings in question must now undergo. It is easy to see why critics would feel threatened by these and other new developments, but at some point one has to wonder: who has the right to suppress urban growth, and where do we draw the line between preservation and urbanization?

Mayor Bill de Blasio and the Department of Housing Preservation and Development has come under attack by critics for approving  building plans in NYC that include separate entrances for affordable-housing tenants and luxury-condo owners. The debate raises other questions about the urban poor and the mixing of classes in the city, and there are reasonable arguments on both sides of the issue.

40 Riverside Boulevard, an Upper West Side project of the Extell Development Company, is the property at the heart of this particular controversy. Its 55 street-facing units for low-income residents have helped permit its developers to create many of the other 219 additional units to be sold at market rates and take advantage of associated tax breaks. The aggregate effect of the benefits? An estimated $100 million in added floor space value for this 33-story tower.

The now-approved plans call for a back-alley entryway for second-class residents and a more prominent front entrance for its full-priced buyers. Detractors say the separation of entryways defeats the intention of the program, effectively segregating low-income from regular housing. Arguments on the flip side suggest that the city should focus its efforts developing less-valuable land elsewhere for subsidized housing projects, and allow builders to go higher without having to add affordable housing (in order to meet existing high-end demand).

The Inclusionary Housing Program to which Extell applied is meant to encourage integrated complexes and, in exchange, allow developers to build larger structures on coveted urban sites. At issue is the notion that this development may follow the letter but not the spirit of the system, which, in theory, should be arbitrated by the HPD, but in practice has become part of a larger public discourse.

The heated and ongoing debate has caused Manhattan Borough President Gale Brewer to promise a rejection of any future plans that similarly separate out entrances. Whether that will truly help solve the island’s long-term affordable-neighborhoods issue, though, remains to be seen.