Bill Fovargue's sister gave him the Santa figure that welcomes visitors to the apartment. Framed scenes of ancient Pompeii (not shown) inspired the red wall.

Their perch at the eastern edge of downtown is in the Olive Tower, a 1929 apartment building designed by Earl Morrison and stylishly embellished with English Gothic terra cotta. At the time, its graceful setbacks and height — the penthouse is on the 14th floor — were progressive statements about the expansion of downtown from its retail core and the convenience of living and working within walking distance. But, as with the nearby Paramount Theatre, its developers may have taken a bit too much for granted about the economic well-being to come.

When the firm of Stickley Murphy (now Stickley Murphy Romine) renovated the building for Housing Resources Group, the 75 studio and one-bedroom apartments became affordable to people with low and moderate incomes. Only the penthouse was rented at market rate. Besides the large terrace with terrific views, it offers a comfortable two bedrooms and two baths in about 1,800 feet.

Meier and Fovargue are confirmed renters, having spent 14 years in one of Fred Anhalt's most beautiful townhouses, the Twin Gables on Capitol Hill. But when that building was sold and turned into condominiums — and their unit was offered at almost half a million dollars — they were forced to look for another rental. The three-bedroom "apartment home" had left them spoiled for apartment living. Most of what they saw was, Fovargue says, "cramped and charmless." Serendipity stepped in when he noticed a newspaper ad for the penthouse. Since he and Meier work downtown, the apartment and its location were perfect. Meier is an urban designer for the city's Department of Construction and Land Use, and Fovargue is an assistant comptroller for Washington Mutual.
 

The fresh-flocked tree from Sky Nursery is adorned with sentimental and whimsical ornaments.
On the mantel on either side of the Susan Bannerstrom landscape are artificial trees decorated for a party in Aberdeen by Bill Fovargue's mother. The pink-candle arrangement was his grandmother's. She hand-did roses and glued them on.

Their move to the Olive Tower in May 1999, says Fovargue, was quite different from their first move, when they combined a haphazard mix of his modern things and Meier's more traditional things. This time, they did some weeding and bought some new things. The décor generally reflects Meier's interest in neoclassical art and sculpture and a muted palette. If it were up to Fovargue, it would be done up in pastels. Looking at the varied colors of the ornaments on the Christmas tree, highlighted with pink Glenda the Good dolls from The Wizard of Oz, he says, "The Christmas tree is me." But recently, his influence has inspired Meier to experiment with bright color in the entrance hallway, now painted red.

Moving presented some challenges. Access to the apartment is by a stairway from the top elevator floor. Professional movers were undaunted until the last moment, when two sofas simply wouldn't make the turn up the stairs. Fortunately, the building was being painted outside, and scaffolding was in place. The sofas were hauled up to a terrace and carried through the casement window.

At Christmas time, the living room reflects the decorating spirits of Fovargue's mother and grandmother. During his childhood in Aberdeen, he remembers "Mother did three trees. She had a white-flocked tree with pink balls. There was a big tree in the family room, and another tree in the living room. But the oddity is that we never spent Christmas there. We would go to our grandmother on Christmas Eve. She was of Swedish heritage, and we had dinner there with all our cousins — probably 40 adults and children. I remember that all the dishes had to be cleaned before we opened presents, and that seemed to take an eternity. Then we went to our other grandmother, whose background was English, for Christmas Day breakfast." Well into adulthood, Fovargue would always go back to Aberdeen to help his mother decorate the trees. It was an apprenticeship that set him on the path for doing Christmas in the home he shares with Meier.

Meier tolerates Fovargue's heirloom faux fruit wreaths and rose-decorated pink candles, admitting that it's not his preference. By their first Christmas, it was clear they had very different decorating styles, he says. Fovargue interrupts, "Not styles. More like attention to detail." He describes how he ties the lights to the tree individually — they have to be upright. For Meier's part, "When I was on my own, I just had a big pencil cactus and tied lights on it. That was festive. In order to avoid conflict, I just withdrew. I take charge of cutting up the tree and tossing it after the holidays."

Of life in the penthouse, Fovargue reflects, "This place always makes me feel like living on a ship. You have large public rooms, but the private spaces are very small. Then you have this deck. You're isolated, in your own little world with no immediate neighbors. We are in this elite category of roof dwellers. You look at the horizon and relate to other people who are on the roofs and have roof gardens." They love the views of downtown to the west, Queen Anne Hill to the north and Capitol Hill to the east. Capitol Hill, in particular, has the character of a quiet, low-profile European hill town from their perspective. That is until you step out on the deck and experience the din of the freeway below. But they say they've practically gotten used to the noise.