The Architecture of Collapse
The Decline Is Right Next Door
The other day I met with some pretty important clients, a major company in my country that handles the rights of artists, singers, and other creators. Big players, with history.
And years ago, a very influential banker gifted them a palace. A real palace. The kind built in 1902, not hidden in a forgotten corner, but in one of the most strategic spots in the entire city. That’s where they have their offices today.
What’s funny is that during the visit, I felt more like the client than they did. They gave me a full tour of the place, showed me a beech and bonsai forest they keep on the grounds. I loved it. It breathed history, care, intention. Every detail had a reason.
And when we stepped outside, I looked up.
Right next to the palace, literally attached, they also have offices. In another building.
This one:
Two buildings. Same street. One built with soul, the other with excuses. One sculpted by hand, by art. The other, launched to market with spreadsheets and speed. One reflects an era that aimed for excellence. The other, a time that learned how to cheapen everything, especially our expectations.
That’s when it hit me.
It’s not just that prices have gone up. It’s not just that purchasing power has collapsed. It’s that everything has declined in quality. Everything.
Housing is just the mirror.
Back then, a middle-class family could live in a home with high ceilings, noble floors, architecture designed to last centuries. Today, even if you pay three times as much, you get a box with drywall, narrow hallways, plastic finishes, and a mortgage that chains you until retirement.
But it doesn’t stop there.
Food has been degraded too. I’ve written about this before, fiat food.
We eat more, but worse. More sugar, more processed garbage, fewer nutrients. Same label, but contents that quietly make us sick. Bread used to last three days. Now, if you don’t freeze it in two hours, it turns into rubber.