2012 Atlanta Homes & Lifestyles Christmas House

A few days ago, I previewed the 2012 Atlanta Homes & Lifestyles Christmas House. Benefiting Atlanta's Alliance Theatre, the Christmas House features the work of thirteen of Atlanta's top designers, all under the roof of a charming Chastain Park house.

The house is open to the public Thursday through Sunday starting this Friday, November 16 and running through December 9.  Kicking off the show house is a Champagne and Candlelight Opening Party which will be held at the house tomorrow night.  For more information about the house as well as tickets to the show house or opening night party, please visit the Christmas House website.

Gentleman's Study by Tammy Connor

Living Room by Beth Webb

Dining Room by Jim Howard

Breakfast Room by Gretchen Edwards.  (Gretchen told me that the fabrics are by Jim Thompson and No. 9 Thompson and the table accessories are from Travadavi.)

Family Room by Liz Williams

Mud Room and Back Stair Hall by James T. Farmer III

Library by Laura Walker

Young Boy's Bedroom by Barbara Heath.  (Much of the room's furnishings are available through Barbara's store, The Mercantile.)

Nursery by Michel Boyd

Upstairs Study by Chris Holt

Master Bedroom and Bath by Amy D. Morris


All photos by Jennifer Boles for The Peak of Chic

Problems, Problems

I suppose that when a magazine is presenting practical tips to their readers, its editors feel the need to spice up the article in order to make it seem not so boring.  At least, this must have been the case with an article that I read over the weekend, one that appeared in a 1934 issue of House Beautiful.  The article's premise was how to make a woman's bathroom, dressing area, desk, and bedroom more efficient in order to help make her day run smoothly.  But, the kicker was that these tips were all presented within the context of a fictional account of women getting together for a coffee klatch (actually, the article said it was tea) and discussing the daily trials and tribulations that they faced.



One of the women said, "Every time I step into the tub I think of what an insurance man once told me. Did you know that there are more casualties annually from slipping into bathtubs than there are deaths by motor cars? It's a fearful strain, really."  A strain, indeed.  Then there was Mrs. D who was livid about towel bars, ruing the "barbarian who first put towel bars over bath tubs behind bars of another sort."  I'm not really sure of what she is speaking, but evidently it caused her towels to get wet, forcing her to make a "six-foot sprint across the room for a dry towel", something that she claims "nearly kills me."  And then there is poor Mrs. C whose "gastronomist has positively forbidden any excitement during meals."  And yet, when Mrs. C is "trying to be very calm and unhurried about my orange juice and toast, wouldn't that just be the time my Finnish Lena would bellow, 'Mrs. Carpenter on the telephone, Madam,' and I have to scramble out from under the breakfast tray and like as not upset my orange juice in the confusion."  I don't know about you, but I would kill for these kind of problems.  



I have to admit, though, that the practical ideas that were mentioned still seem like good sense today.  Take, for example, a small table placed tubside that allows you a place upon which to place your towel.  (It certainly beats the barbarian-created towel bar.)  Then there is the "glorified" hospital table that fits conveniently over your chaise longue, a far more convenient way to take breakfast than a tray on the lap.  My breakfast lasts all of ten minutes, so I might use such a table for Sunday night suppers at home.  But the best idea of all has to be something called the "Servitone", described as a small disk-like microphone "into which you have only to whisper that you would like your morning coffee in bed...and the fact is boomed out in the butler's pantry through a loud speaker."  Why go through the Starbucks' drive-through window when you can order your coffee from the comfort of your bed...and over a microphone, too. Now that might be the solution to my problems!



Image at top: Handy niches for bottles, jars and cloths.  A waterproof cushion and rack for the tub. The small table keeps your towels available.

For a dressing table, this luxurious built-in arrangement with an adjustable mirror and copious cabinets for storing lotions and creams.

Breakfast in comfort on a chaise longue with a glorified hospital table instead of a tray and your telephone swinging at your elbow.

The drawer in the desk at the right has a light concealed inside. The blotter is fastened down.

For evening make-up this mirrored slab, draped top and sides, offers full-length vision. It is lighted by a concealed spotlight. The tables at each side are for creams.

Reading in bed with a light concealed in the wall and a back rest with soft, quilted framework for sheer comfort.

Feeling Daft about Delft

I was looking through my copy of Nancy Lancaster: English Country House Style a few days ago, and I was reminded of how much I admire Lancaster's blue and white plates that hung above her fireplace at the Coach House, her last home.  You can see a detail shot of the plates, above.  I wonder if Lancaster's plates were antique Delft plates that depicted the months?  I can't confirm this; it's only a hunch.  But I also have a hunch that quite a few of you do know something more about these plates, and if so, feel free to drop me an email or comment below.

In the meantime, I did find a few plates that have a similar look to Lancaster's plates.  Certainly these examples are all charming, but they would be even more beguiling in a home decorated like that of Lancaster.

A set of seven Dutch Delft month plates, 18th c.

A pair of Delft plates that are currently being auctioned off on ebay.

A set of reproduction 18th c. Delft plates that depict each month.

An 18th c. antique Delft plate available on ebay.

Pretty Paper

Over the weekend, I visited the Fortnum & Mason website to buy a Christmas pudding.  Although it was never really an annual tradition in my family to serve Christmas pudding, there were a few holidays when my parents ordered one from Fortnum & Mason.  I remember it vividly.  Well, actually, I can't remember if I liked the taste or not.  What I do recall, though, were those terrific china basins in which the puddings were packaged.  And being the sucker that I am for a pretty package, I felt that this year I needed to order a pudding, although I admit it's more for the bowl rather than the pudding itself.

So, while I was on the Fortnum & Mason website, I noticed that they now sell cakes from Demel.  Well, that excited me because I visited the venerable patisserie while in Vienna a few years ago.  Their chocolates are absolutely delicious, but what I liked even more than the chocolate itself was, wait for it...the packaging.  I even saved two of their candy bar wrappers.  They've been sitting in a drawer for five years, and heaven knows what I'll ever do with them.  Still, you can't just throw away wrappers like this:

After leaving the Fortnum website, I just had to visit the Demel site.  I didn't order anything considering that I had a high-calorie pudding on the way to me, but I certainly did spend time browsing.  Just look at their chocolate box that is based on a Wiener Werkstätte design:

Then there's Les Orangines containing candies of orange fondant and orange marzipan:

And for you cat lovers, the Katzenzungen milk, which is described as cat's tongue shapes made of milk chocolate:

And then, as usually happens when surfing the web, I somehow ended up on another site, this one with even more charming boxes and bags, the French chocolatier Maison Boissier:

They even have chocolate petals:

Then I found the pretty boxes of Prestat chocolate from England:

At this point, my confectionary tour ended because I knew if I didn't stop, I'd be up all night.  I didn't even make it to the Laduree or Charbonnel et Walker sites.  If you know of other sites with packaged chocolates and candies like those at Demel and Maison Boissier, please let me know.  I might be ready to take another tour very soon.

The New Constance Spry Style

I have lived in a high-rise building for some years now, and I love it.  Every morning, my newspaper is placed outside of my front door.  I have a trash chute conveniently located within reach of my kitchen's service entrance.  And what's not to love about having a lobby staffed by somebody 24 hours a day?  The one thing I lament about living in a high-rise, though, is that I have no yard from which to clip flowers, leaves, branches, and pine cones for my floral arrangements.

My childhood home's property yielded all kinds of wonderful yet uncomplicated flowers and greenery.  There were gardenia, camellias, magnolia and oak trees, and beautiful holly bushes that bore fiery crimson berries come Christmastime.  Our property was my mother's floral market, and her arrangements always reflected what was blooming and thriving outdoors.  What I remember most, though, was how loose and simple her arrangements were.  A single magnolia blossom floating in a silver revere bowl, or branches of copper colored oak leaves perched within an antique glass fish bowl.  They weren't studied nor fussed about.  These arrangements were as Mother Nature intended, in a way.

When House Beautiful asked that I write a blog post about what the "New Constance Spry Style" means to me, I started to think about Spry's artistic, iconoclastic, and, most importantly, naturalistic floral arrangements.  (In case you're not familiar with Spry, she was one of the most noted floral designers of the 20th century.  Her arrangements took the fashionable set by storm in the late 1920s and 30s thanks to Spry's then offbeat use of greenery like grasses, leaves, and seed heads.)  It occurred to me that after years of living without a yard- and years of relying upon my local grocery store for flowers like lilies, roses, and carnations- that I forgot that arrangements don't have to be tight, compact, and of one variety.  After all, our houses aren't one note, so why should our vases of flowers lack diversity?  Maybe it is high-time for me to heed Spry's advice and start mixing eucalyptus leaves, kale, or pussy willow into my arrangements.  Perhaps I need to tone down the bright colors to which I am attracted and start seeking flowers in shades of dusty greens, soft pinks, and pale gold.  Oh, and grass. I need to do as Spry did and add grass to my floral arrangements.

Well, while I figure out from whose yard I can retrieve this greenery and grass, I leave you with a few photos of arrangements that reflect the spirit and creativity of Spry.  They were all done by Michal Evans, one of the foremost floral and event designers in the South.  (I consider him to be Atlanta's own Constance Spry.)  I crave all of Michal's designs, but what I like about these are their complexity.  By building layers of flowers and greenery of different colors, textures, and shapes, Evans has created masterpieces that are artistic, intriguing, and really quite beautiful.  More importantly, though, they look like arrangements of which Mother Nature would approve. 

*This post will be featured in the December/January issue of House Beautiful.

The photo at top is courtesy of House Beautiful, December/January 2012.  The remaining photos courtesy of Michal Evans.