What's In a Name?

Well, if the name is Hager, then it means great style. I was slightly familiar with the work of the late designer Gary Hager, a former rising star in the interior design firmament and Parish-Hadley designer, but only slightly. A few weeks back, I picked up a copy of the 1989 book The Decorator and was obviously struck by his very handsome photo. But Hager was certainly not just a pretty face. His apartment, featured in this book, seemed so quintessentially American. In one of the images below, you see a bed covered in a wool plaid blanket with a Jean-Michel Frank mirror beyond in the entryway. Might this have been an Albert Hadley influence?

There was an elegance and tailored masculinity to Hager's work. I guess it's no surprise that in the book, he lists "fussy apartments, Art Nouveau, Tiffany lamps, and period rooms" as dislikes. But this post is not entirely about Hager's work. In fact, it's about serendipity. Within a few days of buying the book and admiring Hager's design skills, I was browsing through Chris Spitzmiller's website and found my new favorite lamp- the Hager. And then it dawned on me. Might this be named for Gary Hager? Yes, it was. And Hager hailed from Spitzmiller's hometown of East Aurora, NY, yet another coincidence. So really, this post about Gary Hager-and his name- was really meant to be. Don't you think?



Hager's first New York apartment. Note the Jean-Michel Frank mirror in the hallway, a mirror favored by Albert Hadley. And, a similar mirror (though not a Frank piece) graces Chris Spitzmiller's entryway. The coincidences keep coming. That Directoire chair is quite fetching.



The living room of Hager's apartment. Those creamy walls are the perfect backdrop for the artwork and that beautiful Regency table.



Not Hager's apartment, but that of a client. Yes, the Impressionist painting and Miro sculpture are truly magnificent, but my money is on that bergere. Perfection.



The Hager lamp in a matte natural finish. I just love that hourglass shape.

(Hager images from The Decorator by Florence de Dampierre; Hager lamp photos courtesy of Christopher Spitzmiller website.

All That Glitters is Not Always Gold

I'm mesmerized by these Cecil Beaton photos, above. Of course, the costumes are really something else, especially that worn by Tilly Losch in the second photo. But what really fascinates me are those backdrops. The top photo (that's Beaton's sister, Baba) looks as though the subject is sitting in front of a wall covered in aluminum foil. And in the Losch photo, the background looks a little more liquidy. I can't quite tell what it is. And despite the fact that both photos are black and white, you can tell that the backdrops are reflective. I love it.

These photos started me on a roll looking for unusual uses of metallics. Of course, one of the most memorable "metallic moments" was Rose Cumming's use of metallic foil on her bedroom's walls. Eccentric, perhaps, but genius as well. And I always thought that the curtains were lamé, but I was wrong. According to Adam Lewis' The Great Lady Decorators: The Women Who Defined Interior Design, 1870-1955 (from which I took this photo), the fabric was actually a silk like that used for saris:



Metallics seem to be a popular choice for tablecloths. Mai Hallingby chose quilted Mylar for her The Tiffany Gourmet Cookbook tablesetting. Very tongue in cheek-or at least I'm assuming. I do think, though, that you would have to wear your sunglasses and sunscreen should you be sitting at a Mylar covered table under the noontime sun.



Sirio Maccioni's tablesetting for Tiffany Taste included a gold lamé tablecloth. Now remember, this is fantasy. I'm not suggesting anyone run out and buy lamé. But...if you wanted to be cheeky and over the top, it could be fun.



If all of this metallic is a bit too obvious, there are other ways to add a little glimmer and shimmer to your rooms. Think polished sterling silver bowls or trays. A not so shiny metallic wallpaper. Gold or silver leafed frames. And let's not forget metallic fabrics. I love those...so much so that I used a Celerie Kemble for Schumacher metallic fabric for my living and dining room curtains.

Glimmer by Schumacher


(Beaton photos taken from Beaton by James Danziger; Cumming photo from The Great Lady Decorators: The Women Who Defined Interior Design, 1870-1955 by Adam Lewis; Hallingby photo from Tiffany Gourmet Cookbook, The and Maccioni picture from Tiffany Taste)

Oscar Worthy Design

Remember when I posted that the glamour days of home theaters peaked, oh, seventy years ago? And that home theaters today tend to lack pizazz? That these bijoux aren't really bijou anymore?

Well, I was a tad hasty. And it took designer Ray W. Clarke to set me straight. (Thank you, Ray.) Ray- he of Cleveland, Ohio and Palm Beach- had the vision to design a theater in an Ohio home that is truly like an Art Deco masterpiece on a smaller scale. No, that's not it at top. That is Severance Hall, home of The Cleveland Orchestra, that served as the inspiration for Ray's jewel box creation.

Severance Hall was built in 1931 and is still considered to be one of the most beautiful concert halls in America. Designed by architects Walker & Weeks, the interior is a mélange of Art Deco, Modernism, Egyptian Revival, and Classical design. And by the looks of the photo above, I can understand why the hall is revered by musicians and fans alike.

So what does Ray's interpretation look like? Just look below. Is this theater gorgeous or what? There are grand elements to it- namely the ornate, German silver leafed trim on the walls and ceiling- but the size of the space keeps things intimate and elegant. I adore the velvet curtains, the Deco sconces and ceiling fixture, that upholstered door. And what about those upholstered cinema seats? It really is like a 1930s movie theater!

If I were a guest in the theater, I would feel like I should dress for the movie. Perhaps I shouldn't say "feel" because I would want to dress well for such glamorous surroundings. I only hope that the homeowners include movies like "Dinner at Eight" or especially "The Women" in their repertoire. This theater is made for those movies. Bravo, Ray!

Home theater images courtesy of Ray W. Clarke, ASID. Photo of Severance Hall, copyright Hedrich Blessing.

So Dumb...and Yet, So Smart

My vote for most under appreciated piece of furniture goes to...the dumbwaiter. In particular, the two and three tiered, circular varieties often found in mahogany. If you look back in old books and magazines from the 1930s and 40s (and as you know, I do this often. Quite often.), you'll see dumbwaiters placed prominently in living and dining rooms. I suppose they became a little too ubiquitous, because how often do you see these in homes today? Not very often. And it's such a shame, really, because dumbwaiters have personality. There is something pleasing about that round shape, those shelves of graduated sizes, and the three-legged base that usually supports the piece. Not to mention how great they are for displaying objets, holding plants or vases of flowers, or even serving as a repository for books. They could even work quite well when you entertain. You could call it into service as a small bar or a place from which to serve hors d'oeuvres. Oh, wait, what about in a dressing room? You could display all of your beautiful perfume bottles on it. I could go on, but this post really isn't "101 Things To Do With Your Dumbwaiter." It's simply a little plug for a piece of furniture that gets high marks from me.

(I tried to find a contemporary photo of a dumbwaiter in use but alas, nothing. I could swear that Ruthie Sommers recently used one in a project of hers, but I can't find the photo to save my life!)


A pair flanking a fireplace in the Lake Forest, Illinois home of Mr. and Mrs. Kersey Coates Reed. The decorator was Frances Elkins.


In this Thedlow decorated room, a mahogany dumbwaiter holds a collection of "sportsman's trophies."


In a 1950s-era Milan apartment designed by Renzo Mongiardino


A collection of minerals adorn this dumbwaiter.


In a sunny spot holding vases of flowers.

Image at top: From left to right, dumbwaiters from Holland & Company, Parc Monceau, and Florian Papp

(Image #2 from Frances Elkins: Interior Design; #3 and #4 from House & Garden's Complete Guide to Interior Decoration; #5 and #6 from The Finest Rooms in France)

This Lady Sings the Blues

There are some people who can't stand blue. I know- each to his own, and if we all liked the same things, wouldn't the world be a boring place in which to live? But still, I just can't imagine living in a world without the blues. (Yes, I sound like a broken record.) But for blues to be interesting, they have to have something interesting to say. They have to be sophisticated and have that "traveled the world" air to them. Really mild blues are too timid for me; they don't look like they've lived. I want a bold, full-bodied blue. Blues that have some maturity. Such as... that blue above. The walls in this Atlanta living room are covered in Brunschwig & Fils silk satin in the most beautiful shade of blue. The homeowner, Danielle Rollins, and her decorator, Miles Redd, are both drawn to blue, so it's only natural that in their hands, the result is something magical. I've seen the walls at night, and they positively shimmer! And, it serves as a smashing backdrop for those chocolate colored velvet sofas.


Yes, there is much going on here. But look at those greeny blue walls. And look at how the purples and reds of the room sing against that blue. Maybe they're singing "My Blue Heaven".


And Madeleine Castaing was a master of blue. That carpet is the most gorgeous shade of blue. The walls aren't too bad, either.


The windows wore blue velvet.


If all of this blue is too bold for you, you can use it as an accent. Traditional fabric yes, timeless shade of blue absolutely.


A little blue, just for you.


(Image at top from Town & Country, August 2010, Francesco Lagnese photographer. #2, #3, and #4 from Decoration (Vol II); #5 and #6 from The Finest Rooms in France)

It's Not So Bad Being in the Dog House

This is a post about dogs. Right now, you dog lovers out there are thinking "Oh good!", while cat people might be saying "Well, okay, they are animals, so I can deal with it." And you non-pet people are probably going "Dogs?! This post is for the birds." Okay, so indulge me. I read a charming book over the weekend, Dog House: A Love Story by Carol Prisant, and it got me thinking about how my home has truly become a dog house. But first, let me tell you about the book. The author poignantly writes about her life long desire to be a dog owner...and what happens once she finally becomes mother to furry children. There are humorous anecdotes about ill-behaved dogs, sweet tempered dogs, dogs that get car sick, dogs that can swim and those that can't. In addition to the multitude of canine companions, Prisant's dear husband of forty two years and her son figure prominently in the book- and of course in her life too. All in all, it's sweet, funny, touching and most definitely heartwarming read. And, it's one that made me think of my dog.

I used to be very particular about my home. I mean, I still am, but I once gave new meaning to the word uptight. We're talking bordering on becoming Harriet Craig. Everything stayed new looking for a long time. Fresh, crisp linen on the bed that never seemed to wrinkle. Clean, spot-free fabric on the sofa. A floor so shiny you could see your reflection, not to mention the fact that you really could eat from it.

And then came Alfie. Dear, sweet Alfie. And along with Alfie came errant white hairs that started to litter my once shiny floor. Oh, and the stray kibble that turned up in the dining and living rooms, despite the fact that his bowl lives in the kitchen. In fact, I believe that Alfie is a food hoarder. I once gave him a bite of biscuit that I later found wedged between my bed pillows. But you know what? Instead of pulling my hair out with anxiety and frustration, I actually started to relax. So what if a white fur tumbleweed comes rolling out from behind the console table. That's what Swiffers are for. And yes, the shininess of my floors has subsided a bit thanks to tiny paw prints (who knew dogs have such oily little feet?), but I simply spray some Bona cleaner on the floor and buff away. Despite the fur, the spots that seem to appear on the sofa and chairs, and the smashed kibble on the floor, Alfie taught me to relax. And you know what? I actually enjoy my home a lot more than I did before. It's easier to enjoy things when you're not so anxiety-ridden.

Okay, so I'm not completely cured of my Harriet Craig tendencies. As I write this, Alfie is asleep on my newly upholstered wing chair. But, I made sure to put a blanket underneath him to protect my chair from what I call his weeping eye syndrome (don't ask). And when I see him making a bed for himself on the Porthault bed linen, I don't FREAK anymore. I simply say "Eh, it can go in the washing machine." Because thanks to Alfie, my condo finally feels like home. No amount of decorating, good upholstery, nice linen, and pretty rugs could do for my condo what all 11 pounds of Alfie has done. Oh sure, all of it made my condo a nice place in which to live, but a dog is what really what brought everything to life.

Now, will someone please remind me of this when I'm standing outside in the pouring rain, cursing under my breath, and begging Alfie to please take care of business before we both drown?

Tea and Civility

I must have stared at this photo ten times yesterday. One obvious reason, of course, is that the setting is pretty (not a dirty word in my lexicon.) Any room dominated by books, books, and more books holds appeal. You have a table covered by a rug (at least it looks like one to me) over which a blue damask cloth has been placed. There are those gorgeous bronze dore sphinx lamps that look as though they were turned on while the photo was taken, something which adds to the tableau's warmth. But the thing that really captured my imagination is the fact that the table is set for tea. You have that knock-out silver samovar (actually, a Regency coffee urn) and the homeowner's lusterware tea cups and saucers, not to mention those cakes and molds. It's like a little oasis of civility. And you know what? That is the real reason I'm so taken with this photo. Isn't it nice to think about what life could be like if we weren't dealing with a barrage of tweets or reality shows (don't get me started on those Real Housewives). We could be taking tea in the confines of a lovely home while drinking from a proper cup and saucer. I don't know about you, but it sounds pretty tempting to me. Crumpets, anyone?

(Apartment of writer Joan Juliet Buck; House & Garden March 1990; Oberto Gili photographer)

Blurred Boundaries

Continuing with lacquered walls...

Something that never ceases to capture my attention are rooms in which the walls, trim, and ceiling are all painted in the same color and the same finish. The effect is one which is often likened to a "jewel box", an apt description that unfortunately has become hackneyed as of late. Still, rooms painted in this manner do have a dramatic flair to them, don't you think? The planes of the room seemed to become blurred so that you feel like you're wrapped in a cocoon of color.

For me, the most memorable jewel box rooms are those that have been painted in dark, saturated color. Just look at the Los Angeles living room of designer Helen Partello, above. Wow, is that a room or what?? But, those rooms that have been bathed in lighter shades of yellow or pink are certainly just as charming. And I believe that I prefer for the walls and ceiling to have a high gloss or lacquered finish. All of that light bouncing around the room helps to soften the look. A matte finish, at least to me, seems to make a room feel like a dead zone. But that's just me.


It looks like Jan Showers chose a sang de boeuf color for this richly appointed library. The walls and ceiling really have a sheen, don't they?


Yes, the color may be a bit pale (it's corn-yellow), but the lacquered finish is what packs a punch in this room. The ceiling looks wet. This 1930s room was decorated by Jack Killick.


According to the book from which this photo came, the "deep flesh pink" walls and ceiling are a matte finish. Drawing room decorated by John Hill for Messrs. Green & Abbott, Ltd.


I know that this room is far more contemporary than anything I usually show, but it's a great example of not really being able to tell where the walls end and the ceiling begins. (New York apartment of Arthur Ferber.)

(Image #1 from Architectural Digest California Interiors; #2 from Glamorous Rooms by Jan Showers, Jeff McNamara photographer; #3 and #4 from Colour Schemes for the Modern Home by Derek Patmore; #5 from Architectural Digest New York Interiors)