On a relatively quiet block in the densely built, mixed-use Navy Yard neighborhood in Washington DC, a single structure stands out for its modest appearance.
But in the Navy Yard, which, according to some measurements, has metamorphosed from a sparse and unsafe industrial zone of the 2000s to what is or soon will be the most densely populated neighborhood in the city, a two-story structure is the outlier, as proven by how it relates to its neighbor to the left…
…as well as, for that matter, the neighbor to the right.
The result is a jarring, comical tableau: two hulking apartment buildings reaching the maximum permissible height in Washington DC (typically around 13 or 14 floors), flanking a traditional old commercial building housing Ann’s Beauty Supply and Wigs, with a façade barely recognizable thanks to more contemporary adornments and window treatments. This juxtaposition makes no sense. But the rationale gets a lot clearer if, as usual, one takes a step back in time through the archived photos of Google Street View, this time dating from August 2011. At that point, Onyx, the massive building to the right (west) of Ann’s Beauty Supply, was already complete and fully tenanted, but many of the other multifamily apartment buildings in the Navy Yard had not yet broken ground. The parcel just to the east of Ann’s used to host a church.
And such is the story for this burgeoning neighborhood, one that locals and long-term residents know well because of the numerous construction cranes that have punctuated the horizon for the last fifteen years. As recently as the mid 2000s, the six-block walk between the Navy Yard WMATA metro stop and the prime entrance to the walled Navy Yard campus was austere, ugly, and often perceived as dangerous. It represented one of the largest, most conveniently situated, and underutilized strips of land in the entire district, characterized by questionable basement bars, vehicle impound lots, and a smattering of neglected housing. It was the site of more than one or two Rottweilers snarling behind flimsy chain-link fences. The area emerged as both an entertainment and employment node through the one-two punch of a new Washington Nationals Ballpark and the offices for the federal Department of Transportation nearby. Housing and other uses quickly began to fill the remaining void. I’ve covered the Navy Yard’s transformation multiple times in the past. And while the number of undeveloped blocks has diminished to but a few, this anomalous old building lingers.
Why? It’s simple and not too surprising: the owner wouldn’t sell. This Washington Post article from 2014 explores the Navy Yard when it was still a far cry from its current density and prosperity, but not quite the no man’s land it had been for most of the 20th century. Son “Ann” Reed, the owner of Ann’s Beauty Supply, already faced displacement from the old Waterside Mall several years prior, when developers tore down the auto-oriented structure for similar high-density apartment development near the Southwest Waterfront Metro stop to the west. Not feeling impelled to leave again, she has consistently refused developers’ offers to buy and demolish, giving the high-rollers no choice but to build around her squat little facility.
It’s a familiar story, though more frequently associated with residential properties than commercial. My home city of Indianapolis had a notorious example: a century-old residence, where a stubborn old lady refused to sell to the Eli Lilly campus that surrounded her on three sides. The none-too-surprising end: Eli Lilly bought the land and demolished the home after her death. For those who can’t think of a similar example in their home towns, all they need to do is recall the tremendously successful Pixar movie Up, with a similarly stubborn senior protagonist who tolerates “sandwich” conditions akin to Ann’s Beauty Supply. Anywhere with a reasonably free and open real estate market will face a similar scenario. Here’s an example in the high-value waterfront neighborhood of Pocitos in Montevideo, Uruguay:
The difference in height creates a jarring interruption in the street wall, almost identical to the mise en scéne from Up, except for Montevideo’s greater prevalence of architecture with Bauhaus influences (not exactly reflected in these photos).
What’s the future of Ann’s Beauty Supply? Well, inevitably the owner will retire eventually, and, unless someone else takes over the business itself (one that Ms. Reed herself admits is not that lucrative; she’s “hanging in there” according to the 2014 article) the next owner of the property will seek a buyer with deep pockets. But there’s a bit of a problem: the land surrounding this humble old building is already claimed. It occupies a tiny parcel surrounded on three sides by the larger structures; on its own, will be difficult to replace with a more intense use, such as a narrow building of ten stories or more. I’m not saying it’s impossible: given the high land values in Navy Yard and throughout metro Washington DC, a skinny mid-rise could happen. But it’s a riskier investment than something with a larger floorplate. It’s really the same with the Up residence in Montevideo; at this point it’s unlikely that an apartment tower will ever overtake that modest three-story space.
Therefore, at this point, Ann’s Beauty Supply might occupy a building that defies all the odds: one that earns greater value despite a low FAR (floor-area ratio), simply because it’s such an outlier. It’s the only human-scaled structure—a lithe gazelle amidst pachyderms. It’s like nothing else nearby. The high land value combined with height limitations in Washington DC often forces developers to build extra-bulky structures so they can capitalize on the land, creating a uniformity to the street walls that grows dull and tedious, particularly in downtown DC, where ornamentations, color, and texture are all that help distinguish among such predictable massing. Navy Yard allows more breathability, and it is precisely thanks to the occasional surviving structure from a bygone area, like Ann’s Beauty Supply, which adds distinction. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if, ten years from now, this building hosts a Michelin-rated restaurant stretched across two floors. Or a high-powered nightclub for the beautiful people. If that happens, let’s hope the current customers at Ann’s Beauty Supply don’t wig out. (Sorry about that.)
10 thoughts on “Ann’s Beauty Supply: a serenade to small biz stubbornness.”
There was famously one of these inholdings on a casino block in Atlantic City. If memory serves, the ex-bankrupt-casino-developer-in-chief was involved. There’s a photo in Wikimedia files.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/52/View_of_house_between_two_casinos_-_Town_of_Atlantic_City%2C_North_end_of_Absecon_Island%2C_South_of_Absecon_Channel%2C_Atlantic_City%2C_Atlantic_County%2C_NJ_HABS_NJ%2C1-ATCI%2C19-3_%28CT%29.tif/lossy-page1-250px-thumbnail.tif.jpg
Thanks Chris. I looked in what appears to be the Abescon Island area in general (using the cues from the hyperlinked slug you sent me) but it would be akin to a needle in a haystack.
Mostly I’m curious to see if that configuration persists today. Given that the land markets in Atlantic City couldn’t be much more antithetical to those in most of Washington DC, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the failed casinos got demo’d…but the little house in the middle survived.
The original construction pictured was for a never-completed Penthouse Casino. The steel structure was later demolished.
The heirs of the homeowner sold a decade or two later. According to the account I read, it was made into a landscaped area behind the Trump casino that later rose on the Boardwalk.
I was in AC while the whole steel mess was still standing and walked past on the way from parking to Boardwalk. It made me forever curious about what happened.
I’ve never understood the economic arrangement of Atlantic City. I visited once many years ago, and it didn’t feel prosperous then. I suspect it’s worse now, as many of the casinos (its only real bread & butter) have folded due in no small part to increasing competition from other satellite hubs. Pennsylvania has had legal gambling for about a decade.
AC’s continued struggles, despite the massive amounts of consuming spending prompted by gaming, suggest either persistent corruption in the municipal leadership in the management of that revenue (always likely) or that casinos in and of themselves are not the golden ticket for urban revitalization that we’d like to think they are (almost certainly). Asbury Park, 50 miles or so to the north, is almost as poor of a city as Atlantic City, but it’s showing definitive revitalization through organic free enterprise (it’s a hipster/gay destination) that AC consistently fails to attract. And Asbury Park has no casinos.
Asbury Park is a lot closer to NYC and cheaper than the Hamptons or Fire Island, I suspect.
AC is just on the south/west of the Philly/NYC dividing line in Jersey (which largely follows the ancient 17th Century East/West Jersey partition) and so its fortunes have been more tied to Philly. The more affluent beachgoers from the Philly environs have been going south of AC since the 70s, to Ocean City, Sea Isle, Avalon, Stone Harbor, Wildwood, and Cape May.
I think AC’s heyday was in the early to mid 60s, when the Miss America Pageant was still in its prime, and the Boardwalk was an open-air amusement center. The decline was arrested for maybe 20 years by casino gambling in the late 70s (the Resorts International was the first to open), but then started again with the coming of casino gambling to many other states (starting with Indiana in 1995).
A wandering diversion started by the topic of holdout property owners, who almost never reap later (adjusted for inflation) what they could get when the developer is desperately seeking their property.
Definitely on target with regards to Asbury Park. It wouldn’t be what it is if it weren’t fully under the shadow of NYC. I see perceive the town to be sort of the bohemian oasis in the otherwise staid, affluent, WASPy expanse of suburbs of Monmouth County. That said, just because Asbury Park is an outlier within the immediate area doesn’t make it particularly strange; it’s culturally indistinct from the typical Brooklyn neighborhood these days. Far weirder is Ocean Grove just to the south of Asbury Park, which takes Methodist fastidiousness combined with a collective aspiration toward late 19th century good taste and elevates it to a fascinating, almost comical level. It’s like nothing else I’ve seen on the East Coast. But you probably knew that already.
My guess is AP and AC had fairly similar trajectories of decline: AC’s revival owes more to partnerships with gaming conceived by eggheads out of Trenton, while AP’s is much more bottom-up through iterative entrepreneurial efforts. Both are equally poor, but AP seems to be diversifying as the hipsters and gays gentrify it; AC is a textbook example of the limited capacity of casinos to encourage people with means to move to a locality. It simply doesn’t happen through the casino itself. And yes, as you noted, the middle class prefer places like Ocean City and Wildwood–too very different beachfront towns in and of themselves.
I agree completely with your final paragraph. For the stubborn holdouts (which typically but not always are advanced in years), the victory is more psychological (David prevailing against Goliath) than financial.
My first and only visit to AP was some years ago and it included a drive through Ocean Grove and the more affluent beach towns to its south. We had lunch in AP at some boho beach tavern within walking distance of the Stone Pony. The Boardwalk/Convention Center was pretty empty, and not much was open but it was a gray day during the week in October 🙂.
There seemed to be new municipal investment in park, boardwalks, parking, etc.
It may be gentrifying simply because places to the south are SOOO expensive and it’s perceived as a good value for a beach town.
My favorite DC example of this is on Mass Ave at or around 433 NW. it always tickled me. I seem to remember it being a restaurant at one point, though I could be wrong.
This one!
http://www.bizjournals.com/washington/news/2016/10/04/finally-a-big-payday-for-the-owner-of-433.amp.html
I’m a big fan of that one too! I did some archiving searches on Google Streetview, and apparently the structures surrounding this old little building didn’t go up until the late 2000s. Do you remember what this block looked like at that point?
Apparently the Le Pain Quotidien, which occupied the little storefront, closed sometime last year, well before COVID. Though I’m pretty sure COVID has permanently stymied the chain’s efforts to expand in the US market. It may end up folding altogether.
As for the building itself, it seems even more constrained than the one in Navy Yard. In both cases, at this point it would be hard to find a buyer seeking to develop. It might as well remain a retail/commercial use with two floors above ground and a basement (currently some fitness club).