A tactless and tasteless homage to Mother Teresa.

After the catastrophic earthquake of 1963 that destroyed 80 per cent of the city, Macedonian capital Skopje became a symbol of international solidarity (aid for rebuilding came from 82 countries), heralding an era of heroic modern architecture and urbanism. It also presaged globalisation, when for the first time both East and West joined forces to drive forward the reconstruction of a city. Skopje's new masterplan was devised by two planning firms, Doxiadis from Athens and Poliservis from Warsaw, working with the local Institute of Planning and Architecture. Japanese architect Kenzo Tange and Slovenian Edvard Ravnikar won an international competition for the city centre, and a detailed urban plan, the famous 'Variation IX', was drawn up. Emerging from disaster, Skopje seized the opportunity to establish itself as a modern city.

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In 2006, Skopje received another chance for international recognition with the proposal to build a memorial house to Mother Teresa, an initiative supported both by the Vatican and the followers of her order, as well as the Macedonian government and the public. Born Agnese Gonxhe Bojaxhiu in Skopje in 1910 to Albanian parents, Mother Teresa lived in the city for 18 years before joining the Sisters of Loreto and embarking on her famous humanitarian mission.

The Ministry of Culture announced an international competition for the project, with Portuguese architect Jorge Marum declared the winner. However, the government and the initiation committee bizarrely decided to ignore expert opinion and staged a new competition, choosing a design previously commissioned from local architect Vangel Bozinovski, known for his architectural fairytales and schizophrenic creations.

For Skopje this represents a lost architectural opportunity, as well as another depressing example of political meddling. Critics have not been slow to react to Bozinovski's atrocious design. 'The structure is designed very perfunctorily, with too many stories to tell, but without any essential message to give,' says Erich Raith of the Technical University in Vienna. 'If it wasn't for the Christian cross, it could be a disco or casino.' Maren Harnack, a professor at HafenCity University in Hamburg, notes that the building 'does not symbolise [Mother Teresa's] life and her renunciation of material goods'.

Bozinovski's building, which opened in January, is like someone tastelessly dressed, arrayed in gumboots, lace stockings, a brocade skirt and a Chinese silk shirt, all heavily accented with bling and what appears to be a cosmonaut's helmet. It puts on everything at once. According to the house's custodian, 'this is the dream of little Teresa, to live with a normal city family'. But it's highly doubtful that 'little Teresa' was ever dreaming of such a trivial bourgeois life devoted to material goods.

If it wasn't designed to commemorate such an important figure, this building might have got away with its inoffensive zaniness. But as it turns out, it is hugely offensive. It offends with its skewed selection procedure, with its pretentiousness, with its arrogance, with its tastelessness. But most of all, it offends by totally ignoring any architectural correlation with the life and work of Mother Teresa. Will Skopje get another chance? After this, it does not deserve one.

The selection process and design for the Mother Teresa house are a scandal. Skopje must not allow it to happen again