Modernism sought to bring a healthy uniformity to architectural design, in part through with clean lines and material minimalism. New technologies like air conditioning also allowed for an unprecedented level of global standardization in terms of temperature-controlled spaces. Of course, this often meant disregarding local traditions that had been successful for centuries (or longer). Among the regional strategies that got lost along the way was a seemingly small but critical factor: the variable heights of rooms humans build and occupy.

As a vernacular design critic who goes by Wrath of Gnon explains, “Before the International Style (modernism) in architecture, our ancestors knew how to adapt the room heights according to the climate, achieving maximum effect (comfort) for the least effort (energy). Today we trust in the grid and so build 8-9 ft rooms from Bermuda to Reykjavik.”

Ideally, the, in warm climates you want higher ceilings because “as hot air rises the difference in temperature at floor level and ceiling level in a tall room can be as much as 4 degrees [celcius] all other things being equal. Here, a comfortable looking gentleman in an 1817 room in Rome,” height around 15 feet. In Brazil, 15-foot homes were typical historically.

Conversely, in colder climates, lower ceilings meant higher temperatures. “Here are log houses from Russia and Sweden. The efficiently constructed fireplace created an interior draught that sucked fresh air in and expelled smoke, dust. Fans or mechanical ventilation not needed.”

In Japan, “with hot summers and relatively cold winters, a different technique was called for. Wooden houses allowed for perfect fine tunings of openings depending on exact climate and orientation. This traditional room built to maximize airflow, livable in summers without AC.”

In short: choosing the right materials, heights and orientations for a climate makes a big difference. “By building with nature and climate instead or regardless of it, by adapting our waking hours to the rhythm of the sun we can achieve remarkable levels of comfort—even superior—compared to what we have today in our modern homes built to international, industrial standards.”

In a stark play of contrasts, a rich wooden passageway tunnels through this otherwise modern residence made up of small colorless masonry blocks, slicing like a house-shaped cookie cutter through the contemporary structure.

The open space inside this Korean domicile looks like a cast of a traditional home, or a child’s drawing set vertical and extruded through a solid rectilinear block.

Architect Kim Seongyoul of Rieuldorang Atelier (images by Joonhwan Yoon) was inspired by the most elemental and simple idea of a house, and “started designing with the question of how architecture can enter the world of emotion” through geometry and association.

As one passes inside, the void space opens up to reveal light, views, greenery, windows and access points to the home, becoming a kind of central hallway and bridge between interior and exterior spaces.

In the end, the shape also serves as a kind of iconic welcoming beacon, a symbol of home within a home, that shows people where to go, then goes on to provide an overview of everything else the house has to offer.

No need to plug in this particular hot tub – heat naturally circulates as you burn wood, keeping yourself warm outside by throwing logs on the fire much like you would in front of a living room hearth.

Dutchtub, which started making waves with its distinctive mug-shaped design and off-the-grid mobility, is back with a wooden twist on its original poly-fiber shell (and the same stainless steel lining).

Both the classic and new designs boasts extreme portability, able to be towed behind a bike, tossed on top of a car, or even dragged behind a canoe for the truly ambitious soak-seeker.

Like the outdoor equivalent of a fireplace flue, the spiral contraption sticking out the side allows users to adjust the temperature along with the burn rate. Optional accessories include a chimney to route smoke up and away as well.

While it is not necessarily a safe or sanctioned use, some clever revelers have also discovered you can use the flames to cook a meal while you bask in the warm water and wait, turning the wood-burning element into a de facto stove.