by Steven Knipp

By the time we reach age 15, most of us realise that “love at first sight” is a painful myth. Even simple fondness takes a while. And actual love can take a long time.

The same is true when we first gaze at new-fangled architectural designs.

In fact, if we look at some of the world’s most iconic and architectural landmarks, we find that many of them were initially scorned by the public. Here are three examples of world famous structural icons once considered costly eyesores.

San Francisco’s glorious Golden Gate Bridge
How can anyone get all misty-eyed over anything made of iron and steel? Ask someone who’s seen California’s Golden Gate Bridge and you’ll have your answer. There really is something majestic about this splendid span, which goes far beyond its millions of iron rivets. Today, the bridge’s serenely elegant beauty gives physical form to San Francisco’s standing as one of the world’s most romantic cities.

Yet, when it was announced the bridge would be built, few wanted it—2,000 lawsuits were filed to halt construction citing exorbitant costs and that construction would be too dangerous (the tidal flow was three times that of the Amazon; and fierce winds and dense fog swirled through the headlands).

Despite such qualms, after four years of construction, and the deaths of 10 men who fell through safety nets into the sea, the mammoth span opened in 1937.

The bridge’s perplexing paint job shocked San Franciscans. Previous spans had been rendered in shades of grey, while the Golden Gate was painted a startling burnt carroty colour known as “International Orange”. The alarming shade, however, was never a matter of style, but pure practicality. The unsightly hue offered both protection from the salty air and visibility to aircraft during foggy months.

Eventually, residents and visitors alike came to realise the Golden Gate’s signature Kodachrome-coloured towers created a beguiling postcard-perfect contrast to California’s cobalt blue skies and golden hills.

Australia’s magnificent Sydney Opera House
Instantly recognised around the world as a shining emblem of modern Australia, Sydney’s magnificent waterfront Opera House is treasured by generations of Australians.

But that wasn’t always true. In 1957, the government held an international contest to select an architect to design its future “National Opera House”. Out of 233 applicants, the winning entry was that of 38-year-old Danish architect, Jørn Utzon. The young Dane’s conception was not the typical boxy buildings common then, but rather a series of vaulted structures clad in millions of white tiles that resembled a sequence of massive white spinnaker sails.  

Trouble began almost as soon as the construction crew of 10,000 set to work. Delays were frequent. Costs mounted, soaring from the original estimate of A$7 million to A$102 million. Relations between Utzon and the engineers tasked with completing his design soured. Midway through construction, Utzon was sacked and he vowed never to return. Australians wondered: would their much-debated opera house become a global laughing stock?

Nonetheless, after 14 years, instead of the original four planned, Queen Elizabeth II opened the gleaming white Opera House in 1973.

“Suddenly,” recalled one Sydney commentator, “Australia was on the world map. We didn’t just eat pies and go to the beach and surf and drink beer—we had culture, too.”

In 2007, the Opera House became a World Heritage Site. UNESCO described the building as “one of the indisputable masterpieces of human creativity. Not only in the 20th century but in the history of humankind.” 

Paris’s Eiffel Tower
Constructed over 24 months (1887 to 1889) by French engineer Gustave Eiffel, today we all tend to agree the Eiffel Tower is one of the most beautiful structures ever created.

Whenever we see an image of the Eiffel Tower, it immediately embodies everything we admire about the City of Light. Its physical elegance as well as its aura of romance and glamour.

Ironically the tower was never meant to be a permanent structure, and when it was inaugurated, Parisians loathed it. The ancient French capital was a metropolis of stylish stonework, marble and masonry, adorned with grand facades and intriguing gargoyles glaring down on passers-by while the “modernistic” Eiffel Tower was a raw, naked, skinless steel structure. One newspaper called it a “tragic street lamp”. Poets signed petitions protesting it. France’s literary lion Guy de Maupassant took his lunch every day at the base of the rising tower because it was the only place in Paris where he didn’t have to look at it.

By the 1920s, disdain for the monument was so pronounced it was used to display a hellish advertisement for a French car-maker, using 250,000 garish light bulbs.

No. ‘Twas never a case of love at first sight—but as with all long-term relationships, more a matter of deep affection fostered by patience, perseverance and, ultimately, sheer stubbornness.