In a car park between the Geneva Children’s Hospital and a micro-forest, La Tulipe’s massive fractal concrete trunk sprouts 12 slender branches and a filigree bronze lattice, framing a shimmering cube of candy-coloured glass panels in pastel pinks, blues and yellows. Even the futuristic, anodised bronze lift entrance shines as brightly as the promise of scientific progress – but could also pass for a Bond set.

It was love at first sight. My heart just melted away in the summer sun.

What stole it? The way La Tulipe proudly and unapologetically embraces both its hard and its soft and pastel sides, playfully defying the macho vibes often associated with brutalism.

The building clearly ticks all the brutalist boxes and is very much of its time, but it is simply too distinctive and stunning to be pigeonholed. For me, the core message of La Tulipe is that you have more fun when you dance away from the norm. And it’s true: it’s in the deliberate breaking of the rules, the unexpected encounter, where the magic happens.

I have since shot and written about hundreds of brutalist buildings. I live and breathe brutalism. But La Tulipe remains my number one crush.