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An ingenious rule governs building materials: those that were generally unused in 1940--vinyl siding, aluminum moldings--are forbidden. Most roofs are crimped tin. The old-fashioned construction has necessitated retraining local carpenters. Partly as a result, construction of a typical Seaside house costs about $70,000, not expensive by national standards but about 20% higher than prevailing local costs.
The code is meticulous, not totalitarian, and so Seaside houses are siblings, not clones. The family resemblance is apparent in the dormers, flattish roofs and simple timber trusses, but the house-to-house heterogeneity is authentic (faked diversity inevitably looks it). Indeed, so heroic is Duany and Plater-Zyberk's commitment to diversity that they declined Davis' offer to let them design every building in town.
The landscaping defers almost completely to nature: grass lawns are outlawed, the indigenous scrub remains. "We're trying to keep it real and tough," Duany says. He and Davis are not fans of some of the populist prettifying that has occurred--bogus 19th century porch lamps, for one, or the residents' decision to pave the dirt streets with brick. "We're building Kansas," says Duany, "but we're getting Oz." Mainly, though, Seaside's nostalgic sentimentalism is well disciplined.
If Davis and his collaborators simply create one special place that is civilized and a bit ascetic, old-fashioned but open-minded, that will be enough. If their example convinces other builders that there is a profitable, preferable alternative to shapeless tracts and cruddy apartments, then Seaside will be a significant achievement. --By Kurt Andersen