We trundled the usual spots, like the famous Pike Place Fish Market where the guys in orange Helly Hansen overalls hurl salmon filets. We're both in the business of houses -- he's easily one of the best, most knowledgeable builders of homes there is on this planet -- so no conversation strayed far from the buildings surrounding us.

We walked through Pioneer Square an area of commercial buildings built around 1900. The mill building we spotted on the way in was detailed with brick arches and copper cornice that was so beautiful -- ON A FACTORY, imagine that today! -- that it made your heart ache. Then, in the main square, we saw an ornamental iron train station entrance copied after those in Paris (Paris, as a city, by the way is in tact and a link to pre-WWII architectural history because the French surrendered to Hitler he tells me; London, not so much). Then, building after façade after storefront was dripping with individual detail and artistry. Stone, brick, masonry, copper, metal -- cornices, crown, window heads, doors -- it just couldn't get prettier. I mean even the fire station that was run down was a work of art.

And behind us rose the glass and steel towers of Seattle's center. Sleek, stark, modern, enormous.

Why can't they hold the same warmth and "integrity" as the older buildings? Why aren't they as "beautiful?" we asked.

Well, there's a quantifiable answer to this subjective question, for me at any rate, and it comes from my mother (wise) and my wife (wise and trained in architecture.)

A mom-mantra -- and I have yet to find a time in my life when this isn't true -- is as follows: There is no arguing matters of taste. Some people like blue; some yellow. It's just the way it is. Always has been, always will be.

My wife's point of view has changed my view of "modern" architecture because, unlike so many things produced by architects (any builder will tell you) it is pragmatic. "Think about it, Mark," she says. "Imagine the cost of building an 80 story building whose footprint takes up 1/2 a city block with turn-of-the-20 th Century detail. There's not enough money in the whole world to do it, never mind the armies of men required to pull it off building after building."

It's true.

It might be sad, but it might open up a new perspective on looking at modern buildings. The rules are different. You can make the case that, in order to be so massive, they're designing in a narrower bandwidth.

But don't get faked out. Architects are loaded with hubris -- you have to be to put your name on something 80 stories tall and they'll tell you they're work is beautiful; Frank Lloyd Wright was downright forceful about it.

While I've learned a valuable lessons between the low-scape and high-rise horizon at Pioneer Square, I don't care how flippin' awesome someone says they are... if I think your building is ugly then it's ugly to me. Moms have a great way of being right sometimes.