Lofty aspirations for factory conversion

The popular image of a loft apartment, according to author Jenny Vance, is associated with "youth, freedom and the enjoyment of life". It represents the abandonment of suburban clutter in favour of the "pure clean lines of former industrial spaces" with high ceilings and vast floors.

The idea of loft living first took root in the SoHo area of Manhattan as far back as the 1940s, when artists working in its old warehouses found that their studios were large enough to live in - even though they had to hide their residency from the authorities because it was in breach of municipal zoning regulations.

By the 1960s, as Ms Vance notes in Loft Living (Ward Lock, 1999), it had spread to "an urban middle class who could make the imaginative leap required to bridge the notions of factory and home" and gradually came to "accept the idea of buying an apartment for its square footage rather than its number of bedrooms".

The late John F Kennedy junior was among those drawn to SoHo and its characteristic cast-iron warehouses, usually seven storeys high, because they offered something very different from the strait-laced world of conventional apartment buildings.

In London, loft living was pioneered in the early 1970s by architect Tony Goddard, with his conversion of Oliver's Wharf near Tower Bridge into "shell spaces" for the residents themselves to fit out as they wished. As Ms Vance notes, it was this type of development that pointed the way to the regeneration of Docklands.

Now lofts have become so fashionable that, in Clerkenwell, "they're running out of warehouses - there's nothing left to convert", according to an estate agent quoted in the Evening Standard last week. Authentic lofts are in short supply and developers are now building smaller, "loft-style" apartments to meet the demand.

Stylish conversions are still being done by developers such as the Manhattan Loft Corporation. What they are selling is not just a piece of property, but a lifestyle, too. As Ms Vance's picture book puts it, they have "translated a need for large and exciting urban homes into a product directed at the affluent and design-conscious".

John Mahony, chairman of Edelman PR in Dublin, and managing director of the group's much larger office in London, was well aware of these trends. He wanted a loft apartment in Dublin, but there just weren't any available - at least until developer Michael Roden bought the former Crowe Wilson clothing factory in Blackpitts. Mr Mahony knew the architect, Mary Donohoe, and became one of the first to put down a deposit for a very large, south-facing loft apartment when it was still on the drawing boards. Even though the factory, built in the early 1950s, was a derelict building, he was able to make the "imaginative leap" to see it as living space in the making.

Many others couldn't, according to Mr Roden. When the scheme was first launched off the plans, "people couldn't get their heads around the idea" of buying a virtual shell containing vast expanses of largely undefined floor space. There weren't even any fireplaces to give some clues about where to put the sofa, for example.

With few exceptions, the image that purchasers were sold in the past was reassuringly suburban, albeit at a miniaturised scale. Cornices, ceiling roses, chintzy curtains and three-piece suites were all part of it, of course. But what they also had in common was a rigid compartmentalisation of relatively small spaces.

For Mary Donohoe Architects, the great advantage of the former Crowe Wilson building on Clanbrassil Terrace was that its internal structural columns were spaced far enough apart to create really generous apartments, ranging in size from just under 1,000 sq ft (92 sq m) to almost 2,500 sq ft (225 sq m).

By Dublin standards, apartments of these dimensions are very rare indeed. Though we have moved on from the shoebox-style flats that were once so predominant, most developers are not willing to stretch themselves much beyond the Department of the Environment's minimum space standards, which are still very low.

In that context, the Warehouse seems to have landed from another planet. Its 41-high ceiling living spaces, laid out around an internal courtyard hollowed out of the original building, have more in common with loft schemes in London or New York. Dublin has seen nothing like it, though it is perhaps a precursor of things to come.

Most impressive, inevitably, are the duplex units on the third and fourth floor - a penthouse addition to the original building, with an attractive profiled zinc roof. These not only contain exceptionally large living spaces, but also have private terraces ranging in area from 194 sq ft (18 sq m) to a quite extraordinary 683 sq ft (63.5 sq m).

Not one of the apartments is the same shape and size as another. What they do have in common, however, are ceilings rising to a height of 10 ft - two feet higher than the shoebox standard - and this makes all the difference; it would be impossible to imagine the vast floor-spaces under oppressively low ceilings. The original steel windows have been replaced with chunkier steel sections to allow for double glazing; they are also very large, offering panoramic views (at least from the upper levels) of Dublin's domes and spires, over the rooftops of nearby two-storey and three-storey houses which were the limit of our puny ambitions in the 1980s.

Sensibly, each loft has been supplied with efficient gas-fired central heating. Common areas include a curving staircase with glass-block walls - one of the few additions to the early-1950s envelope - as well as railed and glazed access decks on the upper levels of the courtyard, a lift and, somewhat incongruously, a carpeted stairs.

Walls and doors are all white, awaiting change to suit each purchaser's taste. And just to show what's possible, a few show flats have been fitted out with Art Deco-style bathrooms (en suite or not), double beds that seem to float in the middle of vast bedrooms and kitchens that would be the envy of up-market suburban households.

The possibilities are endless, as can be seen from the eclectic collection of lofts in Peggy Vance's book. Though Dublin does not have too many redundant factories of the Crowe Wilson vintage, it does have a few old warehouses - such as Boland's Mill, in the Grand Canal Docks - which would suit conversion to spacious lofts.

The city also has a stock of 1960s and 1970s office blocks, with floor-to-floor clearances too mean to meet modern standards, that be converted to residential use. The Department of Labour's former headquarters, for example, is now the Mespil Hotel. Some buildings in Lower Mount Street might be similarly recycled.

Given the diversity of the housing market and the emerging demand for more flexible residential space in the city centre, loft living is the way to go. The Warehouse on Clanbrassil Terrace, which has been a complex project for Michael Roden, his builders Pierce Healy and Mary Donohoe Architects, offers a preview of the future.

Fifteen of the 41 units in The Warehouse are still available for sale, priced from £190,000 for smaller lofts to £630,000 for the largest penthouse. Including generous private balconies or terraces, the price per sq ft is cheaper than the going rate for most city centre apartments. The agents are Sherry FitzGerald.