House Tour: The New York House of Benjamin Garber and William Kennedy

What to do when your work schedule is so hectic that it leaves you little time to prepare a blog post? You scramble to find photos of a house so attractive that you don't have to devote much time to writing text.

Now that I've gotten that off of my chest, I'll get on with the gist of this blog post. The upper Westchester County, New York house you see here belonged (or, perhaps still belongs) to designers Benjamin Garber and William Kennedy of William Kennedy Associates. Built in 1968, the 7,000-square-foot house was composed of quite spacious rooms, which were decorated in that dignified style so characteristic of mid-twentieth-century, high-end design.  By dignified, I mean that the house was appointed with fine fabrics, formal, antique furniture, and exquisite porcelains, all set against a backdrop of sophisticated, harmonious color.  And although the house could be deemed polite (a compliment in my book,) there is nothing stuffy about this house.  Warmth and comfort are much in evidence, with just enough dazzle to keep things interesting.

Also interesting is the information provided by the 1974 Architectural Digest article, in which these photos appeared.  According to the text, Kennedy once worked for Syrie Maugham, and both men took over her U.S. operation in the 1950s.  The interview for this article must have been lively, with much banter about Kennedy's former employer.  I'll leave you with this exchange between the two men, in which both share their thoughts on Maugham:

"She was the greatest gal I've ever know," says Mr. Kennedy.  "Venemous," says Mr. Garber, "but the most charming girl that ever walked into a parlour.  Whatever she did, she insisted on quality."

"She sold the worst things in the world," says Mr. Kennedy.  "But she made them look like quality," says Mr. Garber, "and that is magic that few people do well." 

P.S.- Does this room, above, remind you of the work of designer Michael Greer?



Photos from Architectural Digest, Jan/Feb 1974, Charlotte Brooks photographer.

Robert Lutyens at Home

You may not be familiar with Robert Lutyens, but chances are you've heard of his father, noted British architect Edwin Lutyens. Robert was also an architect as well as an interior designer and author.

I found these photos of Robert Lutyens' London home in a 1936 magazine. According to the article, the flat was notable for its modern backdrop against which period furniture stood, a background that Lutyens created by using blond wood and textured fabrics. The drawing room walls were sheathed in bleached, waxed deal which had a "silvery beige" patina. The curtains were white taffeta, while chairs were covered in rough-textured beige silk and pale blue satin. In the dining room, draped bleached linen crash covered walls. The furniture was a mix of Regency and Sheraton furniture.

It's the home's bedrooms, though, that are textbook examples of glamorous 1930s design. Mrs. Lutyens' bedroom had curtains of cream satin lined with coral shantung silk, a white mohair rug, and an upholstered sleigh bed that I assume was designed by Syrie Maugham. (In 1936, Robert Lutyens collaborated with Maugham on the design of Brook House, London where another of Maugham's fringed and upholstered beds was used.) And as would be fitting for a man, Lutyens' own bedroom was a luxurious vision of clean-lined modernism.




The image above as well as that at top depict two sides of Lutyens' London drawing room.




The dining room.




Robert Lutyens' bedroom.




Mrs. Lutyens' bedroom with that fabulous upholstered bed.



All photos from House & Garden, April 1936.

A Numbers Game

On the day that Elizabeth Taylor died, I tweeted that the actress was never more beautiful than in Butterfield 8. I stand by that statement, but I would like to add that she was also stunning in Ash Wednesday. I will never understand why that movie was so roundly panned. Here's the deal: the film is set in Cortina, Italy; Taylor drives a gorgeous Mercedes, as I recall; the producer was Dominick Dunne; and most importantly, her clothing was by Valentino. Oh, and she wears a bejeweled turban in the movie. Seriously, what more do people want? Talk about a heavy dose of glamour!

But this post isn't really about Taylor. I've just taken us down a very circuitous path to a discussion of telephone numbers, or more accurately, telephone exchanges. Butterfield 8, in case you're not aware, was the exchange that Taylor dialed to find out who her appointments were for the evening. Because as you know, Taylor played Gloria Wandrous, a call girl. A quite beautiful call girl, but a call girl nonetheless. Decades ago, telephone numbers were a little different than they are today. They were composed of seven numbers, but the first two numbers were designated by letters. So, Butterfield 8 was BU8 plus four additional numbers. You dialed the letters using the corresponding numbers on the dial. I may not be making myself clear, so you can click here to learn more about it.

So why am I writing about this? Because, don't you think that these exchanges had a lot of pizazz compared to the boring old numbers we have today? I'm sure that a lot of you remember when phone numbers were designated this way. If you watch an old movie set in London, you might hear characters referring to a phone number as WHItehall XXXX. That was a well-known exchange. If you lived in New York, your exchange might have been PLaza or GRamercy. Had I lived in my current Atlanta home back in the 1950s or 60s, my exchange might have been CHerokee.

I know this might seem like such a random post, but seriously, wouldn't you rather have calling cards printed up with KLondike, MUrray Hill, or HEmlock rather than all of the rigmarole we have to use today? I know that I would.


Parish Hadley's telephone number, as seen here in a detail of a rendering for Sister Parish's calling card, was RHinelander 45380.




One of the lady decorators, Elsie Sloan Farley set up shop on Park Avenue. Her number was PLaza 3-3516.




If you needed to reserve a room at The Carlyle back in 1936, you would have rung RHinelander 4-1600. You would still dial the same number today: 744-1600.




Syrie Maugham's London exchange was a posh sounding Mayfair. Her Chicago shop? That exchange was SUperior. That one sounds nice too.




W.E. Browne was an old decorating firm in Atlanta. This invoice, issued to my mother for the purchase of an antique cabinet, shows the firm's TRinity exchange. What's funny is that this invoice was dated 1990; I suppose they never saw any need to print new letterhead. I also admit that I like the use of "Decorators and Furnishers". It seems refreshing in a day and age where those terms are considered to be passé.


Image of Syrie Maugham stationery from Syrie Maugham by Pauline Metcalf.

Mad About Maugham

I just finished reading Syrie Maugham, Pauline Metcalf's new book on one of the twentieth century's most innovative designers. It was high time that Syrie got a book of her own. Actually, Richard Fisher wrote a book on Syrie back in the late 1970s, but that one is both hard to find and quite expensive. I had to resort to photocopying the Fisher book at my neighborhood library. At least I own Metcalf's book.

Like so many of the Acanthus Press books that I've read, Syrie Maugham is very much a catalogue raisonne of the decorator's work through the decades. There were some Maugham rooms that I was familiar with, but many were new to me too. Of course, Maugham's famous Kings Road all-white drawing room is featured in the book (it's on the cover, too); after all, this was the room that got Maugham noticed by the press and the public on both sides of the Atlantic. But what many people don't realize is that Maugham also used color- vivid color- in much of her work, and this is a point that Metcalf drives home with such examples as the living room of Ina and William Wallace and even Maugham's later residence at Chesham Place. In addition to color, other Maugham hallmarks include tufted upholstery (Syrie never overlooked comfort), sleigh beds, mirrored screens, fringe, and fabulous window pelmets, all of which are seen throughout the book.

Another interesting point made by Metcalf is that at times, Maugham's work "overlapped" with that of Elsie de Wolfe, Frances Elkins (someone with whom Maugham occasionally collaborated), and even Dorothy Draper. Look at photos of all four designers' work and you'll see the influence that each one had on the other.

I know that there are those of us who are fascinated by the history of design and those who are only interested in photographs of gorgeous rooms. No matter which camp you're in, I think this book will be well received by both. After reading it, you'll realize that Syrie Maugham was not just a one trick pony. Although she'll be best remembered for that white room and pickled furniture, she did so much more than that. Thanks to Metcalf for showing us that.



The famous all-white party room at Maugham's Kings Road home c. 1932. Once this look ran its course, Maugham was smart enough to go in a different direction and decorate her home in a whole new way:



Vogue Regency in the Entrance Hall at Chesham Place, Maugham's address from 1937 to 1939. If I didn't know better, I might think that this space was decorated by Dorothy Draper.



Rose wallpaper struck a colorful note in the entrance hall at yet another Maugham home, this one at 24 Park Lane.



And one more example of rich color, this time in the living room of William Wallace and his wife, actress Ina Claire. This space dates to the early 1940s.



I find this Maugham decorated drawing room so charming, and I just had to include it because this home belonged to Lady Rose Leveson-Gower and her husband; she was the older sister to the late Queen Mum.



The Manhattan apartment of Grace and Harry Payne Bingham. If only I had traditional windows in my apartment, I would copy that pelmet in a heartbeat.


(All images courtesy of Syrie Maugham by Pauline C. Metcalf, Acanthus Press publishers.)

Mad for Marion

Thanks to the non-drowsy decongestant I've been taking all weekend, I've been a little too revved-up to sleep. A little annoying, but on the bright side, I've redecorated my apartment...at least, in my mind. I've decided that I need a small rug in my dressing room. I already have a nice wool, Wilton weave carpet in there right now (I'm a big fan of wall-to-wall carpet in bedrooms, closets, and dressing areas), but I think a throw rug would add some zip to the space. After all, a minimalist wardrobe, though chic on the body, is too subtle to do much in the way of decoration.

So what would be perfect in my dressing area is a Marion Dorn rug. I mean, if you're going to daydream, you might as well shoot for the stars. It would certainly be in keeping with the loose 1930s look that I'm going for. And if they were good enough for Syrie Maugham and Frances Elkins- both fans of Dorn's work- they are more than good enough for me.

(Speaking of Maugham, don't forget that Pauline Metcalfe's much anticipated book, Syrie Maugham, is being released in a few weeks. Look for a review here soon.)



This Dorn rug, c. 1930, was sold at Christie's for around $4300. The pale tones would be perfect for my room's color scheme of pinks, grays, and creams. The zig-zag design is reminiscent of the Dorn rug in Mrs. Celia Tobin Clark's bedroom (c. 1929-31; seen at the top of this post), a room decorated by Syrie Maugham.



Frances Elkins chose this beige and off-white Dorn rug for the bedroom of Ruth Winslow. The rug was a nice modern counterpoint to the traditional French floral chintz.




How chic was the Lounge at Claridge's Hotel, c. 1930? Decorated by Oswald Milne, the space was a combination of Art Deco and Modernist decor. The black and cream geometric patterned rug was, yes, by Dorn.



Another stylish room decorated by Maugham, this time the London drawing room of Mr. Robin Wilson. I wonder if that was a Dorn designed rug?



This Dorn work is/was available at a rug dealer in Paris.



Not quite the right colors for my dressing area, but this Dorn rug- auctioned off by Sotheby's- is certainly enchanting.

(Clark image from David Adler, Architect: The Elements of Style, Martha Thorne editor; Elkins image from Frances Elkins: Interior Design by Stephen Salny. Claridge's photo from Martin Battersby's The Decorative Thirties; Wilson drawing room photo from The Great Lady Decorators: The Women Who Defined Interior Design, 1870-1955 by Adam Lewis.)

Fringe Benefits

I'm trying to figure out the seating situation in my bedroom. (After I wrote that, I realized that this is a loaded statement.) I think it's nice to have a chair in one's bedroom as a place to sit and read. I have a temporary one in there right now. It was my childhood armchair and ottoman that is, well, a little dated. Both pieces are a bit low to the ground which is perfect for a child (of which I am no more...), and they're upholstered in a Colefax & Fowler check. It was great for the 1980s, but not so much anymore. Those two pieces will, I believe, be heading to the consignment store.

What I plan to use in its place is a hand-me-down wing chair that used to be in my parents' library. I adore a traditional, honest to goodness wing chair. You can dress them up, you can dress them down. I want this wing chair to be a little glam, much like those you see in the old movies. And if you look closely at wing chairs from the 1930s and 40s, you'll notice that many of them have brush fringe. I'm thinking of doing this to my chair. Perhaps a solid mohair or silk velvet with a contrasting brush fringe. The deal is, though, that the fringe needs to be short. After trolling my books for images of brush fringe, I noticed that one trend from this era was adorning everything- chairs, sofas, lampshades- in a long fringe. No, this is not for me. I think I'll just stick to a well-groomed fringe.


Billy Haines used fringe on this armchair for actress Constance Bennett. Check out the fringe on the lamp shade!


It pains me to write me this because in my mind, Frances Elkins could do no wrong. But...that fringe is a little too long for me. Other than that, it's really pretty stunning. (Living Room in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Wheeler, Lake Forest, Illinois, c. 1934)


A great example by Syrie Maugham in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Williams, New York. (Drix Duryea, photographer)


Leave it to Rose Cumming to make brush fringe so glam. This makes me want to upholster my wing chair in silk. Not the best choice for a home with a dog, but still... (Home of Mrs. C.S. Petrasch, New York City)


In the Beverly Hills salon of designer Adrian, Tony Duquette was enthusiastic in his use of brush fringe.

Image at top: Designer John Gerald trimmed this blue satin strie upholstered armchair in a beige fringe. I think this is a great example of what I may do with my chair.

(Image #1: House & Garden's Complete Guide to Interior Decoration. #2 from Class Act: William Haines Legendary Hollywood Decorator by Peter Schifando. #3 from Frances Elkins: Interior Design by Stephen Salny. #4 and #5 from The Great Lady Decorators: The Women Who Defined Interior Design, 1870-1955 by Adam Lewis. #6 from Regency Redux: High Style Interiors: Napoleonic, Classical Moderne, and Hollywood Regency by Emily Evans Eerdmans.)