Porthault for Dummies

I have a big regret that really bugs me. Not big as in it majorly affected my life, but rather one of those nagging regrets in which I could really kick myself. It involves Porthault linen. Years ago my sister participated in a neighborhood yard sale, and my mother donated a set of Porthault table linen that looked similar to the carnation pattern shown above. The napkins were a bit worn and the tablecloth had some holes in it. And dumb me didn't rescue the Porthault for myself. I thought "Why would I want a tablecloth with holes?" Because it's Porthault, stupid, and it costs a fortune! Now, I'd give my right arm for a Porthault tablecloth, but of course my budget doesn't quite allow for it. (And please don't excoriate me; proceeds from the yard sale did not benefit a charity or anything. It was strictly for profit. My sister made a whopping $30 from those linen. See, I told you I missed an opportunity there.)


Had I had the sense and style of Deeda Blair, I could have recycled the holey Porthault (or perhaps I should call it the Holy Porthault) and used it in some ingenious way. Mrs. Blair took her trousseau sheets and made bed curtains out of them. Truly, how smart is that? Of course, I couldn't say that my Porthault was trousseau, but I could have made something up rather than admitting that it had been saved from the Peachtree Hills Yard Sale.


Or perhaps I could have made the cloth into a shower curtain, albeit one that was a little worn and that may not have completely covered my shower. But after seeing this shower curtain née bed sheet in the home of Kate Rheinstein Brodsky, well, I wish that I had thought of this.


The napkins could have come in handy too. They would have made great tray cloths. You know, for when I serve myself breakfast in bed on my breakfast tray. I really do have a breakfast tray, and it's actually Porthault. I wish it got used more often than it does, but going to all of that trouble to set a tray for yourself is a drag. You need someone to do it for you...like CZ Guest. This is probably why her tray, above, looks so enticing.


Or, I could have used a napkin to protect my bedside table from my water glass. Two of the chicest people I know use Porthault cocktail napkins for such a thing: Chris Spitzmiller and Todd Romano.

Oh well, I know that Mom's Porthault is probably in a good home now. In fact, I remember how quickly the female customer scooped it up. I bet she thought my sister and I were a bunch of dummies. And you know what? She was right!

(Deeda Blair photo from House Beautiful, 9/2001; Brodsky photo from Elle Decor, March 2010, William Waldron photographer; CZ Guest breakfast tray from House & Garden, June 2004; Romano bedside photo from New York Social Diary, Jeffrey Hirsch photographer)

Sipping and Seeing

It's 8am, I've only gotten five hours of sleep due to a delayed flight last night, and I'm trying to get my motor revving with some extra strength coffee. Needless to say, the thought of cocktails and bars does not necessarily sound very appealing right now. That said, I have had this particular bar- and home- on my mind as of late.

The English Regency house, located in Atlanta and designed in 1936 by Philip Shutze, is rather unusual thanks to that modern, streamlined penthouse, something that would have been in vogue at that time. Actually, I would say that it's still in vogue today. Shutze designed the penthouse in response to the clients' desire for an observation area, obliging them with corner walls filled with windows and roof terraces. But for me it's what's on the inside that excites me...the curving bar that looks as though it's on a ship's helm. There's a Serge Roche feel to the space what with that plaster detail on the ceiling, those shelf supports, and the ornamentation on the bar itself. And the railing around the bar area and the staircase completes the chic look.

The clients were actually a newly married husband and wife who were of the ripe old age of...22 years old! This had to have been pretty heady stuff for such a young couple. But perhaps it was their youth, their enthusiasm, and their desire for something au courant that inspired Shutze to design a home that was a bit edgy for the time. I don't know about you, but I'd give my right arm to have a bar like this in my home. Actually, I'd give my left since I need my right one to mix a proper cocktail.





(All images from American Classicist: The Architecture of Philip Trammell Shutze)

Rx for a Happy Marriage?

I've always believed that the key to a successful marriage is separate bathrooms. When one spouse is a neatnik and the other a mess, a battle royale can ensue, and who wants that every morning? As my mother says, sharing a bathroom with a husband who splashes water all over the place is like sharing a bathroom with My Friend Flicka.

And of course we're all familiar with the separate beds that married couples (actually, those playing married couples) had to endure in movies and television shows. Actually, there were married couples in real life who shared a bedroom but not a bed. Now, I'm not sure what purpose that served. I'm guessing snoring was not the culprit, because that would probably dictate separate bedrooms. Perhaps one partner thrashed around in his or her sleep, or maybe it was because someone had restless leg syndrome. I really don't know, but whenever I've seen a two bed master bedroom, it usually has involved an elderly couple with children- so we can deduce that they went their separate ways after the kids were born. Or maybe not. Really, perhaps I shouldn't even think too much about the circumstances, but this is exactly what happens when a couple engages in unusual sleeping and living arrangements. One starts to wonder...

Separate bedrooms are not so unusual either, although perhaps today it's a little rare. You can just hear the chatter of friends and neighbors: "Did you hear about Betty and Bob? Separate bedrooms. I know, it must be because of that pretty young secretary working down at Bob's law firm." Rumors start swirling, even if everything in the couple's marriage is copacetic. One upside to this arrangement, though, is that you've got two master bedrooms you can decorate. A super feminine one for the wife and something a bit more manly for the hubby. Everybody gets what they want.

But recently, I was blown away when a designer told me that she has a few married clients who are requesting not separate bathrooms, beds, nor bedrooms, but rather separate condos adjoined by a shared door. In fact, I've heard of a couple who resided in separate condos on different floors of a high rise. A little unusual I admit, and it's not necessarily something that would appeal to me if I were married. But, who am I to judge? Perhaps it's these brave couples who have the last laugh. Maybe they've figured out the secret to a happy marriage.


This still from the 1940 movie "I Was an Adventuress" shows beds that look a bit overstuffed. On the one hand, those headboards look comfortable, although I can't tell if they might seem claustrophobic too.


Sorry, but I just don't think Loretta Young was married and had a bedroom like this. I suppose the movie's title says it all: "The Magnificent Flirt". (And to think that satin-sheet Loretta went on to star in "The Preacher's Wife"!)


Now doesn't this couple look happy despite that chasm between them? This photo was from the 1929 movie "Twin Beds"; I don't know whether it was a comedy...or a tragedy.



We can take it a step further with separate bedrooms a la Dorothy and Richard Rodgers. Here is Dorothy's domain, above


And this is Dick's.

I just don't know. After all of this, I'm thinking that sometimes some things are better left behind closed doors.

(1st movie still from Forties Screen Style: A Celebration of High Pastiche in Hollywood (Architecture and Film, 4); #2 and #3 from Screen Deco (Architecture and Film, 3.); Dorothy and Dick Rodgers' bedrooms from My Favorite Things)

Tiffany Taste

Robert Rufino was in town a few days ago as part of a SCAD Style panel discussion, and I'm so disappointed that I was under the weather and couldn't attend. His appearance did, however, remind me of that great House & Garden article in which Rufino's small but supremely stylish Manhattan apartment was featured. Of course, the most memorable part of his home were the beautiful menswear fabrics used, hardly surprising as Rufino has been named to the International Best-Dressed List on more than one occasion.

But the other thing that struck me at the time- and that still captivates me today- are all of Rufino's accessories from Tiffany. It makes sense, really, as Rufino is the former Vice President of Creative Services for the retailer. Oh sure, when I worked at Tiffany's in my mid-twenties, I was able to purchase "stuff" at discount. I had 12 place settings of my formal china by the time I was 23, and I still have some discontinued Peretti pieces that I purchased during my Tiffany days. But the problem was that my style at the time was not as defined as it is today, meaning that certain pieces were simply over my head. That, and my meager salary would only accommodate a purchase here and there. When I see Rufino's cache of Tiffany treasures, I think "Why didn't I think to purchase that while I was there?" or "How come I didn't even know we sold that piece??". Really, I think that Rufino purchased (or perhaps borrowed for the shoot) some of the best- and most iconic- Tiffany pieces like...



Everyone's favorite Bamboo flatware. Thank goodness that someone in my family (my sister) has Bamboo, especially since it's a pattern that has been put out to pasture. I have also always loved the Peretti thumbprint cups and that Teardrop carafe (both still available, thank the Lord), but didn't purchase them while I had my employee discount- dumb move on my part. See those monkey candlesticks? I never knew we sold those until I saw this article. Maybe monkeys aren't big sellers here in Atlanta.





I was lucky enough to receive two Peretti orchid pots as gifts, one in black (like Rufino's) and one in cream. They're some of the most handsome orchid pots I've ever seen, but for whatever reason those got discontinued too. I better take good care of mine.



A better view of that carafe. And another classic Tiffany piece is that sterling flower pot that Rufino employed as a vase.



That simple decanter is none other than that designed by Van Day Truex for Baccarat. Now this decanter has been on my wish list for years. Had I known who Van Day Truex was at 22, I would have snapped one up in a heartbeat- meager salary be damned! And that the crystal ice bucket is from Tiffany as well.

So the moral of the story is...if any of you work at a shop or showroom, take advantage of that employee discount! Don't go broke, but use it while you can!

(Photos from House & Garden, November 2004, Oberto Gili photographer)

The Old Lady

I've been called an "old soul" on more than one occasion. And I suppose that it doesn't come as a shock to me. After all, my favorite movies are those from the 1930s and 40s, something which I write about on a semi-frequent basis.






And how many thirtysomethings do you know who spend their free time researching decorators like Elsie Sloan Farley, someone whose heyday was eighty some odd years ago?





As a child of the 1980s, I have a fondness in my heart for those designers whose work epitomized that era, namely Mark Hampton and Mario Buatta. (And by the way, you must, and I mean must, get the new Mark Hampton book . It's absolutely wonderful, much like the man himself.)





I'm old enough to remember the outrageously glamorous days of television, shows like Dallas, Dynasty, and the short-lived Paper Dolls. Or perhaps I should say the glamorously outrageous days...




I was listening to Bobby Short as a teenager- and that's automatic old soul status right there.




I have- and wear- Belgian Loafers.



Really, the list could go on. But something happened yesterday that has made me rethink this old soul status. What happened, you ask? Just look at what I got in the mail yesterday:





Seriously? An AARP card? Belgian Loafers aside, I'm not that old. What's next? Geritol? Perhaps I should rename my blog: The Chic Has Peaked!

(Image of Mark Hampton from Mark Hampton: An American Decorator by Duane Hampton, Rizzoli Publishers, 2010)

Sunny Side Up

A lot of people feel that the sunburst mirror has been done to death, and I don't necessarily disagree. Yes, they're a tad ubiquitous right now, and perhaps if I had one I might give it a rest in storage for a while. But just because the sunburst mirror is on a few "out" lists right now, it doesn't mean that the motif itself is stale. That radiating design is so pleasing to the eye that it would be a shame to throw the baby out with the bathwater. I mean, you wouldn't deem the mantel clock at top to be passe just because the pendulum is graced with that sunburst face. And let's face it, Elsie de Wolfe's Schiaparelli cape, below, is drop-dead chic, don't you think?







This sunburst headboard is a bit wild and just the slightest bit tacky (at least in today's world), but you can't deny that it was awfully, um, theatrical. (A display room at B. Altman & Co. designed by Robert Reid MacGuire in 1928.)

How about sunburst wall appliques? These were auctioned off at Christie's a few weeks ago, as was this:

A French ormolu and glass plaffonier-form chandelier. Now this is drama for your ceiling.

But nobody, and I mean nobody, did sunbursts like Tony Duquette. I guess you could call him the Sun King!



Sunbursts on the Duquette Pavilion, San Francisco


and on torcheres at Dawnridge.

(Top photo by Jennifer Boles; Schiaparelli cape image from Shocking! The Art and Fashion of Elsa Schiaparelli; B. Altman bedroom from Selling Good Design: Promoting the Modern Interior; Duquette photos from Tony Duquette)

Longing for Linoleum

I'm dying (seriously, dying!) to use linoleum somewhere in my condo. But first, let's get something straight. When I say linoleum, I do not mean that cheap vinyl stuff that graced the kitchen floor of your first post-college apartment. I want honest to goodness linoleum. And, I want to have the linoleum cut to create an interesting pattern. If you look at old photos from the 1930s and 40s, you'll find the greatest linoleum floors in all kinds of colors and patterns. There were reds, grays, blues, and yellows. Greek key borders. Inlaid stars. Geometric patterns.

So where would my linoleum floor go? I've got two options: my entryway or my kitchen. Seeing that my entryway is small, perhaps that is where it will go. It would be a vast improvement over the ceramic tile that's there now. And I would probably go with a black and cream linoleum. You just can't beat those neutrals. And the design? Ah, that's the hard one to nail down.

Now, if this was a really proper post, I would have researched all of the current offerings in the world of linoleum (Marmoleum, anyone?), figured out how expensive a project like this might cost, and determined how difficult it would be to find someone who could actually execute it. But I didn't. And that might be a good thing because I haven't found anything to dash my hopes to someday have my neat linoleum floor.


A c. 1930 master suite dressing room originally decorated by Thedlow. With a floor like that, no wonder the rest of the room is understated (understated in a chic way, of course.)


William Pahlmann decorated this model room for Lord & Taylor with a geometric linoleum floor.


In the early 1940s, House & Garden suggested using all kinds of linoleum cutouts to create unusual floors, including this constellation design. This would not be feasible today, but the constellation idea might be great for painted floors.


I can't confirm if this floor is linoleum or some other kind of composite, but the simple outlined design might be an option for my entryway.

House Beautiful- Fabrics for Your Home

I'm back from my trip and am completely jet lagged...and a bit sunburned too. I'm far too tired to post, but there is something that I want to share with you. For some silly reason I've been a little shy about discussing it with you. Last Spring I took a few weeks off from the blog to write and edit House Beautiful Fabrics for Your Home: 340 Designer Favorites. The book is a compilation of the magazine's Instant Room columns plus numerous photos featuring creative and striking uses of fabric. It's the kind of book that you'll want to throw in your bag when you hit the design center or fabric store. Think of it as "everything you wanted to know about fabric but were afraid to ask."

I'm also going to participate in Washington Post writer Jura Koncius' popular online discussion Home Front tomorrow at 11am. I invite you to join in the live conversation about all things design.