'225': Different by design

'225': Different by design




Forty acres is a long distance to run, but the boundaries of the family rice farm jutting against Bayou Plaquemine outside of Crowley rarely satisfied Valerie Trahan's young son. "Don't go play in the water!" she would call after him, her words chasing small, swift footsteps on thick summer gusts. "You'll end up in the bayou with the currents." He speaks softly, but often. Victor F. Trahan III likes to say people's names while talking with them. He likes to connect and thinks buildings should do the same. Everyone, even family, calls him Trey. Maybe it's the Cajun in him, but he's a storyteller, and his conversations are peppered with quotes. A local priest, an ex in Austin, Frank Lloyd Wright, his grandfather—the dairy farmer, the first Victor F. Trahan: Each gets equal airtime, sometimes within the same conversation. To draw a parallel to his architecture, Trahan's wardrobe relies on a look of simplicity, consistency and contrast. Pick any given workday, and Trahan can be found in a dark blazer, slacks and a crisp white point-collar shirt. No tie. No colors. "It requires the least thought in the morning," Trahan says. Makes sense. He has had his share of other things to think about in the past year. Read the full cover story in the new issue of 225 by Editor Jeff Roedel here.



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