I stayed up late Sunday night, looking at photos of the Straubs’ work online, beginning with their own website. I’d glanced at it before Natalie’s party, but now I studied it with renewed interest. I later found an illuminating interview in Architectural Digest from ten years earlier in which the Straubs were discussing the success of their partnership. “‘Fritz is big picture and I follow up on all the details,’ Amelia Straub says with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘He’s the most talented architect I’ve ever met. That’s why I married him!’ Fritz Straub interrupts: ‘Yeah, right, we all know who’s running the show.’”

A recent interview in Metropolis had a strikingly different tone. “‘Fritz has his projects and I have mine,’ Amelia Straub explains, ‘and we don’t actually have much overlap.’” Fritz was not quoted at all.

Before going to sleep, I ordered a copy of Defining Light: Twenty-First–Century Architecture from the Straub Group for sixty-five dollars on Amazon.

For the next couple of days, I was occupied with photo shoots, while my evenings were devoted to editing and album layouts. On Wednesday, when I arrived home and saw a package from Amazon, I felt like it was Christmas. I stayed up late, studying the Straubs’ book from cover to cover. The graphic design was exquisite. The images were strong and forceful. I found fault with very few of the photos.

I took my time with each page, analyzing each picture and reading every word. I was growing to understand how much I had in common with the Straubs. Quantity and quality of light drove the majority of their architectural choices. The same was true for my photographic choices. The Straubs used natural light to create the spaces in their homes, as much or more than they used structures and walls.

The first five chapters of their book focused on country houses in Long Island, Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, the Hudson Valley, and Connecticut, respectively. The next five were dedicated to urban residences, culminating in the Straubs’ own Brooklyn residence, the pièce de résistance. The book had a more comprehensive selection of photos than those I’d found online. Included were three spreads of the Straubs’ parlor floor, showcasing the sculptural staircase, the library, the majestic great room, the glass-and-steel bifold doors leading to the expansive deck outdoors.

The next two spreads revealed the master suite seen from several angles, including two shots of an otherworldly bathroom with a rain showerhead and a Spoon bathtub. An intense desire to immerse myself in the master suite radiated through my body. Just studying the photos and imagining myself there afforded me some visceral pleasure, but I wanted more. I felt compelled to penetrate their space, as if it ought to belong to me.