In a display of technical superiority, France has just invented traditional white towns. We, however, have forgotten about them

At this time of year, in the hardware stores of the French Midi, it is impossible to find a very specific product: ‘blanc de Meudon’, a classic cleaning product in French drugstores since the 18th century and which in Spain would be equivalent to traditional crushed chalk.

And no, it’s not that they have a sudden fever to have everything clean and spotless.

As we said in Magnetis that in the middle of a heat wave, with maximum temperatures above 40 degrees and blackouts in much of the country, thousands of French people discovered that they could mix this powder with water and paint their windows with it. With the milky glass, the light reflects and the houses could shave a few degrees off the country’s struggle with climate change. In a matter of days, in fact, it has gone viral.

And does it work? Of course it works. Chalk is calcium carbonate, a pigment that barely absorbs light and therefore reflects almost all solar radiation. It’s the same logic Purdue ultrawhite paints or the whitewashed towns that dot the Mediterranean. These are things that seem basic to us, but that no one thinks seriously about until the thermometer goes completely crazy.

Luckily, ‘blanc de Meudon’ is widely used in the country. The other option would have been to pay attention to the Loughborough University and start spreading yogurt on the outside of the windows. According to the researchers’ calculations, with the “lactic approach” the temperature of the houses dropped by 0.6 degrees on average (and up to 3.5 on sunny days).

A lot of laughter, but they still found a different approach, right? No. The data is clear: “complete shielding” with blinds, curtains or even aluminum foil lowers the internal temperature by 5 to 6 degrees, almost double that of yogurt or chalk. For this reason, images of Paris with thermal blankets on the windows have also gone viral.

However, this is only the most striking curiosity. If I bring up the French fever for painting the windows, it is because there is something more interesting hanging from that problem: that, little by little, we are forgetting that architecture is something that has to adapt to the place where it is.

All cities are the same city. For years, walking through the center of a European city has been a very curious experience. It doesn’t matter if it’s Paris, Lisbon, London, Prague or Berlin, they all look more and more alike. They are mimicking. They are losing their local peculiarities to repeat over and over again the same franchises or international stores: Primark, Zara, McDonald’s, Starbucks, Ale Hop or Calzedonia…

But it doesn’t just happen in the centers, of course: experts have been wondering for years why all new constructions look the same regardless of which part of the country (or the world) hosts these new buildings. In Spain, specifically, ‘zebras’ have become a huge problem.

A decade ago there was a very interesting debate about how the doctors’ series had promoted a whole series of practices that were dangerous for health professionals and patients. Things like wearing a stethoscope around your neck or not wearing anything below your elbows are simple rules that the cultural image of TV doctors eroded (and caused problems). With architecture and urbanization the same thing happens.

A pending reflection. Often, when we decide to conserve our architectural heritage, we choose to protect unique buildings. And it makes sense, mind you. The problem is that, along the way, we forget about techniques, structures and decisions that are, in reality, profound adaptations to the climate in which we find ourselves.

That Mediterranean towns are white is not a whim, nor is it a whim that their houses have the structure they have. It is true that some of these characteristics are due to technological limitations of the time in which they were built, but not all. And that is the heart of the problem: if we do not start thinking about our urban heritage as a tool, we will find ourselves in a few years painting the windows white.

And, in short, we will not have searched for it by hand.

Image | Anthony DELANOIX / Veronika Hradilová

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