Why Are Men Who Build Skyscrapers Afraid of This Woman?

No matter how tough she may eventually be on the Comcast Center, it’s hard to imagine her critique will compare to last October’s napalming of the Symphony House in a column headlined “Nightmare on Broad Street.” “A Frankenstein mix of historical elements,” she wrote, keeping with the Halloween theme. “A sequined and over-rouged strumpet sheathed in a sickly shade of pink concrete.” “Gibberish.” And in case you weren’t sure where she stood: “the ugliest new condo building in Philadelphia.”

Saffron’s takedown was buzzed about for weeks, sparking controversy and a spirited rebuttal by Dr. Frankenstein himself, developer Carl Dranoff. Her colleagues love her. Architects, developers, and a certain former head of the zoning board quake as they tear open the paper each Friday. As one development insider says about Saffron’s assassination of Symphony House, “She absolutely destroyed him. Tore him a new asshole. Ask any builder — they’re afraid of her.”

Her power, though, lies not so much in her willingness to eviscerate ugly buildings as in what she believes is at stake: the future of the city. “Philadelphia can’t be satisfied anymore to just build new,” she wrote in the Symphony House critique. “The city needs to build well, with taste, integrity, creativity, and, whenever possible, real aesthetic ambition.”

AS SAFFRON DESCENDS into the newly extended SEPTA concourse beneath Comcast’s plaza, the first thing you notice is how smartly dressed the petite, 50-year-old married mom is — orange scarf knotted neatly over a gray sweater coat, a pleated skirt with dark purple heels and patterned stockings, the slightly asymmetrical brunette bob that frames her face. The subtle city chic suggests that her fashion influences lie well beyond the Delaware Valley. Saffron wears smart like a style, one she talks every bit as much as she walks. It would be easy to dismiss the refurbished Suburban Station as drab and uninspired, but Saffron notices a handicapped elevator with exposed gears and pulleys. “It matches the architectural language of the station,” she says. “They deserve credit.” Nearby, a series of leaf-shaped sculptures rises up from a courtyard and peeks out to the sidewalks above. “It would be nice if they were a little bigger,” she says. “At street level, you only see the little tips of these leaves.” Even a nearby wig shop is worth investigating: “This is my favorite vista in the city. It should be submitted to the Smithsonian.” Saffron takes out her digital camera and snaps a photo of the garish storefront. “There’s just so much vitality down here. It’s like an alternative universe.”

There’s little architectural value to a hair market, but Saffron doesn’t simply consider design and aesthetics when she evaluates a building. The first criterion is urban value — what does this tower or condo or retail space do for the neighborhood? Does it create life by inviting foot traffic and interaction with passersby, or is it sterile? Then there’s formal value, a structure’s beauty and craftsmanship. Her final consideration is a cultural one, and her toughest call. What does this edifice say about our times and our values? To consider how the 975-foot Comcast Center compares to similar buildings, Saffron studied the New York Times offices in Manhattan. “It was like, pow!” she says of that 856-foot skyscraper’s impact on the ground. “It was full of energy. I realized that Comcast’s setback [from the street] sort of saps the energy.”

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