Charleston Magazine had a feature last month that documented architects' love for eyepieces and individuality. Each shot seemed to scream, "Look at me, I'm creative." I guess there are few things left to cling to when your creativity can only go so far as your client lets it. But what is it they say about glass houses? That you need a really good architect to design one? No. Not exactly. Anyway, I'm guilty of it, as well. I don't wear a monocle or anything to help define who I am, but I do wear some really rad shoes. And I don't think I own a t-shirt that wasn't around to see the Challenger explode. I guess this ties into my rant below somehow. I mean, it's all about buying happiness and somehow thinking you're better than everyone who shops at Urban Outfitters or LensCrafters. So you go, Charleston architects, design that palatial spread out at Kiawah and see if you can't get a spread in Charleston Home. Or at least a mention in the Mercury. You, Mr. Roark, are a miracle worker. That tap you feel on your shoulder isn't your client asking for another bathroom on the first floor, it's me congratulating you on a job well done. Or maybe it's the lady at Saks telling you those Varvatos glasses are on backorder.