Laureles in the 80s: Facades, Stained Glass, and Houses with History

Laureles in the 80s: Facades, Stained Glass, and Houses with History

Have you ever stopped to look at the details of a facade in Laureles? I'm not talking about the trendy spots or the new towers on La 70, but those two-story houses with a front garden, clay tile roofs, and stained glass that filters the afternoon light. In August 2026, walking down streets like Calle 34 or Calle 36 is like stumbling upon a living museum of the Paisa middle class of the 80s, even though many pass by without noticing. This neighborhood, now synonymous with restaurants and coworking spaces, holds an architectural layer that tells the story of how Medellín went from being a large town to a modern city. Here, I'll tell you where those gems are, how to spot them, and why it's worth looking at them before they disappear.

Context: The Rise of Laureles as a Middle-Class Residential Neighborhood in the 80s

To understand the houses of Laureles, you have to travel back to the 80s, a contradictory decade in Medellín. While drug trafficking cast a shadow over the city with violence, the professional middle class—doctors, engineers, university professors—sought a quiet, green refuge. Laureles, which had been born in the 40s as a planned neighborhood for aviation workers (hence street names like La 70, in honor of pilots), consolidated in the 80s as the ideal place to live: close to the Pontificia Bolivariana University, with wide tree-lined sidewalks and a grid that invited walking.

The architecture of that era responded to a clear idea: the house as a symbol of status and stability. They weren't mansions, but two- or three-story homes with an inner courtyard, facades of exposed brick or painted stucco, and a detail that became the hallmark of the Paisa house: stained glass. These weren't simple windows; they were geometric or floral compositions that tinted hallways and staircases with amber, green, and blue colors. Hydraulic tiles, with their repetitive patterns, covered the floors of living rooms and corridors, and today they are a treasure sought after by decorators and architects.

La 70, the main avenue, was then a residential street. Families lived in houses with front gardens, where children played on the sidewalk and Sundays were spent having family lunches. There were no bars or nightclubs; commerce was limited to neighborhood stores and a few bakeries. That quiet, family-oriented Laureles is what's reflected in the facades that still survive, though fewer and fewer each day.

The Role of the Middle Class in Building the Neighborhood

Unlike other sectors of Medellín, Laureles wasn't planned for the rich or the poor. It was a project of progressive urbanism: 7-by-20-meter lots, houses built by local firms like the Uribe brothers' or by master builders with plans from renowned architects. In the 80s, many families bought lots and built with their own designs, which explains the variety of styles on the same block: there are houses with modernist influences, others with neoclassical details, and some with late art deco touches. This mix is what makes walking through Laureles a constant exercise in observation.

What to Do: A Visual Tour of Three Iconic Houses

If you want to take an architectural tour of the Laureles of the 80s, you don't need a guide or pay an entrance fee. You just need time, a camera, and to know where to look. Here are three houses that perfectly represent the era, with their approximate addresses (I won't give exact numbers to avoid invading residents' privacy, but the corners are enough):

House with Stained Glass on Calle 34 with Carrera 79B

This is, for me, the most photogenic in the neighborhood. It's on Calle 34, between Carrera 79B and 80, half a block from Parque de Laureles. It's a two-story house with an exposed brick facade and a central stained glass window almost two meters high depicting a geometric sun. The dominant colors are orange and yellow, and when the afternoon sun shines through it, it casts patches of light onto the sidewalk. The main door is solid wood with bronze hardware, and the second-floor windows have wrought iron grilles with scrolls. The front garden is well-kept, with palms and a loquat tree, suggesting original residents still live there. If you look at it from the corner, you can see the detail of the hydraulic tiles on the balcony, which stand out in a pattern of gray and white diamonds.

What makes it special is its state of preservation: the stained glass hasn't been replaced with regular glass, and the brick hasn't been painted. It's a rare example of total authenticity. I recommend stopping by between 4 and 6 in the afternoon, when the light lowers and the colors of the stained glass intensify.

Spanish-Style Quinta on Carrera 76 with Calle 36

On Carrera 76, between Calles 36 and 37, there's a house that looks like it's straight out of an Andalusian neighborhood. It has an Arabic tile roof, whitewashed walls, and a lookout tower with arched windows. It was built in the late 70s and finished in the early 80s, according to neighbors. The facade has carved wood details on the eaves, and the door is a semicircular arch with an iron lattice. Inside (you can't enter because it's a private residence), it's said there's a central courtyard with a fountain and hydraulic tiles in terracotta and blue tones.

The curious thing is that this house survived the wave of demolitions because the owning family kept it as a residence, and in 2024 it was declared part of the neighborhood's heritage inventory by the Secretary of Citizen Culture. If you walk along Carrera 76, you'll notice that around it there are 5- and 6-story apartment buildings, making this quinta stand out like an urban fossil. It's literally a window into how the upper-middle class lived in the 80s.

Modernist House with Hydraulic Tiles on Calle 33A with Carrera 79

This one is less flashy from the outside, but inside (if it ever opens to the public) it's a gem. It's on Calle 33A, almost at the corner with Carrera 79. It's a single-story house with a flat, cream-painted stucco facade and a horizontal strip of stained glass running along the living room. The house was built in 1983 by a civil engineer inspired by the California houses he saw in magazines. It has a spacious garage, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a backyard with fruit trees.

The most valuable part is the hydraulic tile floor in the entryway and hallway: a pattern of eight-pointed stars in blue, beige, and red, likely imported from a factory in Envigado that closed in the 90s. Today, the house is inhabited by an elderly couple who have kept it almost intact. Neighbors say the living room still has a carved wooden cabinet and a crystal lamp from the era. If you're lucky enough to run into the owner in the front garden, they might tell you stories about what the neighborhood was like when the streets were dirt.

The Transformation of La 70: From Family Homes to Commercial Spaces

Avenida 70 is the heart of Laureles today, but it wasn't always like that. In the 80s, La 70 was a tree-lined avenue with two-story houses, some with medical offices on the first floor and homes on the second. Commercial spaces were scarce: a drugstore, a tailor shop, an ice cream parlor. The change began in the late 90s and accelerated in the 2000s, when Medellín's nightlife moved from El Poblado to Laureles due to lower prices and better accessibility.

Today, La 70 between Calles 33 and 36 is a corridor of bars, restaurants, and nightclubs. Family homes were demolished or adapted: facades were opened up to install glass doors, front gardens became terraces with tables, and the second floors, once bedrooms, are now offices or student apartments. Some businesses, like the well-known bar La Tienda de la 70 (which isn't a specific spot but a generic name used by several establishments), retain part of the original structure, such as wooden beams or high ceilings, but most lost their residential character.

This transformation has two sides. On one hand, La 70 became an economic and cultural engine for the neighborhood; on the other, much of the architectural heritage was lost. In August 2026, only about 10 original houses remain on the entire avenue, and most are in a state of deterioration or awaiting demolition to build apartment towers. Local architects have called for their protection, but real estate pressure is strong.

The Case of the House on 70 with 79B

A perfect example of this transformation is the house on the corner of La 70 with Carrera 79B. In the 80s, it was a three-story home with a circular stained glass window on the facade depicting a compass rose. Around 2015, it became a fast-food joint, and the stained glass was covered with a neon sign. In 2022, the business closed and the house was left abandoned. Today, the stained glass is broken, the facade is covered in graffiti, and there are rumors it will be bought by a construction company to build a 12-story building. If you want to see it, hurry, because it probably won't last long.

The Forgotten 'Quintas' and Their Current State

Beyond La 70 and the main streets, Laureles has a secret: the "quintas." That's what the large houses with expansive gardens and sometimes pools were called, built in the 70s and 80s in the areas near UPB and the Estadio. They were properties of wealthy families or businessmen who wanted to live near the university without being in the downtown. Today, many are forgotten, in ruins, or divided into apartments.

Quinta on Carrera 73 with Calle 39

This quinta, on Carrera 73 between Calles 39 and 40, is the most famous among local historians. It was built in 1978 by an architect named Carlos Jaramillo, who also designed several houses in El Poblado. It has a "soft brutalist" style: exposed concrete, ribbon windows, and a two-meter-high perimeter wall. Inside, according to plans shared in architecture forums, there's a double-height main hall and a 4-meter stained glass window depicting the Medellín sky with the city skyline in the background.

But its current state is lamentable. Since 2010, the quinta has been abandoned. The roofs have partially collapsed, the stained glass is broken, and the garden is overgrown. In 2024, a fire damaged part of the second floor. Neighbors have asked the Mayor's Office to declare it heritage, but as of Aug