Curling Up with a Good Book

For the past few days, I've been engrossed in engaging new book, A Curious Friendship: The Story of a Bluestocking and a Bright Young Thing. Written by Anna Thomasson, the book recounts the unconventional friendship between writer Edith Olivier, the Victorian bluestocking of the book's subtitle, and the much younger artist, Rex Whistler. Although I am only a quarter of the way into the book (at 463 pages, it is lengthy), the text thus far is delightful. If you have an interest in either Olivier or Whistler, I highly recommend reading this book.  By the way, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the book's dust jacket, which has to be one of the most charming I've seen in some time. The cover art is fitting considering that Rex Whistler was renowned for his whimsical, sometimes fantastical, and always charming paintings and illustrations.

Along with a number of photographs of Olivier and Whistler, the book also features one of Whistler's more well-known paintings, Conversation Piece at the Daye House, which depicts Olivier in the Long Room at her Wiltshire house, Daye House, along with her guests Lady Ottoline Morrell, Lord David Cecil, and Whistler himself. I've long admired this painting because Whistler's evocative painting style, coupled with the room's genteel and relaxed furnishings, captures a setting that is both mannerly (a virtue valued by both Victorian bluestockings and a few of us modern types) and favorable for relaxation. In other words, I find Olivier's Long Room- at least, Whistler's version of it- to be the ideal room in which to curl up with a good book, preferably one as pleasant as A Curious Friendship. (A cozy mystery would work equally as well.)

I spent some time finding examples of other rooms in which I would be quite happy to while away an afternoon or evening with my nose stuck in a good book.  Some of the examples are sprightly, while others are a bit more serious, but what they all share is their ability to lure visitors into their clutches, either through deep, rich color or comfortable, nostalgic fabrics.  And if you plan to lose yourself in a book, what better way to do so than in rooms designed beautifully for comfort and relaxation?

Conversation Piece at the Daye House, painted by Rex Whistler in 1937. The painting depicts Edith Olivier, Lord David Cecil, Lady Ottoline Morrell, and Rex Whistler.

The drawing room at the Dower House, Badminton.

David Hicks's library in his Oxfordshire house.

Scott Nelson's dressing room, located in the Manhattan apartment of Nelson and Alex Papachristidis, who decorated the room.

The living room in the country home of the late Timothy Mawson.

The Manhattan living room of the late Stanley Barrows, design professor and historian extraordinaire.

A cozy room decorated by Paolo Genta.

My Kind of Country Living

I want to congratulate two friends, Christopher Spitzmiller and Harry Heissmann, on what has to be a dream come true: to be featured in the pages of Architectural Digest.  The magaine's July issue features Christopher's upstate New York house, which he has been working on for years.  (I should know.  I feel as though I went through the renovation with him, if only by phone.)  A relaxed counterpart to his urbane Manhattan apartment, Christopher's house is casual and cheerful, and yet, thanks to its well-thought-out traditional décor, it manages to be rather elegant, too.  Helping Christopher to achieve this sometimes-difficult balance was Harry Heissmann, Christopher's friend and design collaborator, who assisted with the decorating. 

The house is filled with references to Albert Hadley, which isn't surprising considering that both men considered Hadley to be both mentor and friend.  But what I might admire most about the house is how it exemplifies true-blue American style.  It's down-to-earth and relaxed, and yet, it's charged with exuberance and optimism.  What's more American than that?

Photos from the July issue of Architectural Digest, William Waldron photographer.

The Old-Fashioned Powder Room

One of the many things I love about 1930s-era issues of House & Garden and House Beautiful is the attention given to rooms that once epitomized sophisticated living. Take, for example, the powder room.  The powder room of yesteryear was a slightly different affair from today's powder room, which is basically a small guest bathroom with a sink and toilet.  But back in the 1930s, the term "powder room" referred to a small dressing room that allowed ladies to powder their noses and touch-up their lipstick in privacy.  Frequently outfitted with little more than a dressing table and chair, the thirties powder room rarely functioned as a lavatory.  That role was left to the guest bathroom, which was typically, though not always, located adjacent to the powder room.  (Take a look at the photos below, and you'll see that none of the powder rooms had sinks nor toilets.)  However, space obviously dictated both the arrangement and the location of a powder room, because I have seen examples of old powder rooms with sinks as well as powder rooms- sans sink and toilet- situated far apart from a bathroom.  Suffice to say, not all powder rooms were alike. 

Just as they do today, decorators of the thirties-era understood that small spaces beg for outsized decorating.  Look at the photos below, and you'll see that feminine touches abounded. (These spaces were, after all, dedicated to women and their personal grooming.)  Swags, of both the wallpaper and fabric varieties, seemed practically a requirement for powder rooms, as did mirror, which was used on both walls and glamorously-appointed dressing tables.  Pairs of small dressing-table lamps were ubiquitous in powder rooms, while perfume bottles, powder boxes, and brush sets ensured that ladies were equipped to refresh themselves.

I suspect that the Second World War rendered the old-fashioned powder room somewhat obsolete, because by the 1940s, magazines, having moved on to more practical domestic issues, devoted little if any space to the powder room.  In fact, I wonder if the war and its subsequent housing and domestic-staff shortages meant that the powder room became a luxury that few houses could accommodate.  Perhaps it was the post-war era that saw the powder room joining space and function with the guest bathroom, becoming the powder room that we know today.  I'm not sure, and I need to investigate further.  But what I do know is that the old-fashioned powder room, like those other lost-to-history rooms such as the cocktail room and the telephone room, harks back to a time when function and style often went hand-in-hand.  After all, if one must powder one's nose or talk on the telephone, why not do so in style?       

        

This powder room appeared in House Beautiful's "Bride's House" show house in 1934.  The room's wallpaper had a pink background with pink and blue ribbons printed on it.  The chiffon draperies surrounding the mirror were blue, in keeping with the pink and blue color scheme.  According to the magazine, the white fur rug provided "a final bit of feminine fluff."

A mid-1930s powder room, which was decorated by Mimi Durant.  The wallpaper was red and white, while the material covering the dressing table was black cellophane.  How fabulous was that?

This powder room, which dates to the mid-1930s, was located in a house in Morristown, New Jersey.  Decorated by Margery Sill Wickware, the room had beige wallpaper with a coral, green, and cream swag drapery border.  The dressing table had a green taffeta skirt, while a henna-colored carpet covered the floor.

A Thedlow-decorated ladies powder room from 1935.  The color scheme was gray, royal blue, and white.  Crystal accessories, including the pair of lamps, the oval mirror, the ceiling fixture, and even the curtain tiebacks, added a note a glamour and femininity to the space.

Two of design history's most memorable- and sublime- powder rooms were those at the homes of the Kersey Coates Reeds and the James D. Zellerbachs. Both powder rooms were decorated by Frances Elkins.

This ladies' lounge, decorated by Miles Redd and located at a Houston house, is a more recent example of a powder room, though one designed on a much larger scale. (Architectural Digest, Thomas Loof photographer.)

The Four Seasons Under One Roof

During the summer, when everyone else is focused on beach-house decor, I continue to turn my attention to warm, cozy rooms that scream winter.  It's not that I want to be in such rooms when it's 90-degrees outside.  A wool sofa just isn't all that inviting during a sultry, Southern summer.  I do, however, enjoy looking at these comforting rooms during the summer months because it allows me to pretend that it's fall and winter.  Perhaps it's my way of beating the heat.

Some of you might feel as I do about summertime perusal of wintertime rooms, while others might find it stifling.  But I think I have found a home that might suit all temperatures, not to mention most temperaments.  The photos you see here show designer Valentino's Roman villa as it appeared in 1981.  It's an eclectic house in that some of the rooms are cool and even breezy, while others feel more like a cashmere robe on a cold winter's night.

Take, for example, the home's  living room, which was inspired by ancient Egypt.  Decorated by Renzo Mongiardino, the room was perched on a slab of presumably cool-to-the-touch marble.  Stone tables and sculptures further added to the heat-quelling atmosphere, as did the mostly neutral-colored upholstery.  The only decoration that really seemed to give off warmth was the pair of fur rugs.

Now look at Valentino's private rooms (also shown below), which were decorated by Adrian Magistretti.  The tone was maximal and the attitude Victorian.  Shades of claret, russet, and Bordeaux mixed with heavier fabrics, such as velvets and tapestries.  Yes, the look is slightly heavy (and reminiscent of a Denning and Fourcade interior), but it certainly keeps one's eyes entertained.  If any room could ward off a chill, it has to be Valentino's bedroom. 

And then, switching gears again, there was the small, tented dining room, which was decorated by Valentino himself.  The mood here- very spring and summery- was appropriate for the dining room's location off of the garden.  It was slightly casual, a little carefree, and most intriguing when you compare it to the rest of the house.  It almost feels like a dining pavilion plunked down in the middle of a garden.

Of course, Valentino is known for being a polyglot collector, so it's not surprising that his house would reflect his myriad interests.  What is somewhat surprising, but also very compelling, is how one house could capture so many moods- and evoke all four seasons.

The living room, seen in the two photos above, was decorated by Mongiardino.

The Salon, which was decorated by Adrian Magistretti, was Victorian in style. According to the magazine article from which these photos came, Valentino had a fondness for Victorian decor because "it's warm and inviting."

Valentino's bedroom, also decorated by Magistretti, who was responsible for Valentino's sitting room, below.

The sitting room was located off of the master bath.

Two views of the small dining room. The Chinese bed is ebony with mother-of-pearl inlay.


All photos from Architectural Digest, August 1981, Robert Emmett Bright photographer.

Joan Payson Whitney at Greentree

I recently stumbled upon a photo of what has to be one of the more intriguing bathrooms that I have seen.  The bathroom, which you can see above, belonged to Joan Whitney Payson and was located at her house at Greentree, the Whitney family's Manhasset, Long Island estate.

Payson was the daughter of Payne Whitney, who at one time was one of America's richest men.  (It was Whitney who, beginning in 1904, bought the six hundred acres that became Greentree.)  Upon her 1924 marriage to Charles Shipman Payson, Joan and her new husband moved into a small cottage on the property, which was given to her by her father, but after a few years, the couple decided to build a new house at Greentree.  Desiring a large but comfortable house, the couple turned to society architect William Adams Delano, who conceived a charming-looking fieldstone Georgian house.  Although the couple owned a number of other houses in various locations, it was at the Greentree house where the couple famously hosted their annual July 4th costume party, which was also a celebration of their wedding anniversary.

Of the few interior photos I've seen, my favorite room has to be Mrs. Payson's very glamorous and slightly theatrical-looking bathroom.  The sunken marble tub and the star-motif on both the floor and ceiling exude a dash of 1920s-era daring.  But the star of the room has to be the room's Bernard Boutet de Monvel-painted mural, a mashup of tropical foliage and figural scenes.

Joan Whitney Payson died in 1975, and her heirs eventually sold the house and its property to the Unitarian Universalist Church, which has renamed the Payson's house "Veatch House" after a church donor.  Based on what I have found on the internet, it seems that the church has retained the family dining room's mural (see photo below), but I have not been able to determine if they have preserved Mrs. Payson's bathroom.  Does anybody know? 

The home's exterior.

Almost as snazzy as Mrs. Payson's bathroom was the powder room, which was designed in the early 1930s by Charles Baskerville.

 The family dining room, which was a little less glamorous though no less dazzling than the powder room.  A hunting-scene mural adorned the room's walls.

A photo of Joan Whitney Payson (whose brother, by the way, was Jock Whitney) and her husband, Charles Payson.  The couple was attired for one of their costume balls.


Photos from House & Garden, June 1985, interior photos by Len Jenschel.

An Easy-to-Appreciate Home

The day after a holiday weekend is never a good time to deal with anything challenging, so today, I thought we would ease into the work week with a Paris home that requires little effort to appreciate. The apartment you see here, which was built around 1790 and is located on the place du Palais-Bourbon, belonged (and, perhaps, still belongs) to Didier and Barbara Wirth. Through the years, the homes of the Wirths have been published frequently, including their noted house in Normandy, Chateau de Brécy.  Barbara Wirth also authored one of my very favorite books on table settings, The Elegant Table, so perhaps it's not surprising that I very much admire her sense of style.  In fact, if you were to search my blog archives, you would find a number of Wirth-related posts.

When it came to decorating her Paris apartment, Barbara Wirth worked with her frequent design collaborator, Christian Badin, who also happens to be her cousin.  (Both cousins were associated with David Hicks' Paris design shop.)  Wirth has an obvious penchant for beautiful things, and yet, there is nothing remotely precious about this apartment.  Here, dressy furnishings are tempered by the unobtrusive, like rush matting and casual furniture arrangements.  It's the home's easy sensibility that I find so appealing, although I suspect that the sight of the Wirths' inviting library might have influenced me as well.  I could easily have spent my Memorial Day weekend in just such a room. 

The sunny drawing room was made sunnier by yellow curtains, upholstery, and throws.

The entrance hall evoked the outdoors thanks to those wooden cypress trees and Wirth's collection of watering cans.

The library, which was filled with books, objects, and comfortable furniture.

Wirth switched out her dining room's décor seasonally.  In the spring and summer, the cool tile walls were left visible, while during winter and fall, they were covered by panels wrapped in a David Hicks fabric.  The dining chairs, designed by Badin, had seats and backs that could be changed out according to seasons.  A number of years ago, Veranda featured a more recent version of this dining room.

The Wirths' bedroom had a lit à baldaquin, which was designed by Badin, while roman shades covered the room's walls.

All photos from House Beautiful, January 1995, Antoine Bootz photographer.

Weekend Entertaining with Bill Blass

After weeks of traveling, I'm looking forward to spending a quiet Memorial Day weekend at home. I'm sure that many of you, however, are planning to spend the holiday at beach cottages or country retreats, where you're likely to have a house full of hungry guests who require feeding. With that in mind, I thought today would be a good day to show you how the late Bill Blass liked to entertain at his bucolic Connecticut house, which was built in 1770 as a tavern.

Had you been a weekend guest of Blass, you might have started the day with a breakfast tray, which would have been elegantly set with breakfast china, linen, and a copy of The New York Times. After a morning spent doing I don't know what, you would have ventured off to the garden for a picnic lunch of hamburgers with Stilton crumbled on top, watercress slaw, tomato and onion salad, potato chips, and beer. I'm assuming that after a meal like that, afternoon naps were in order.

Late afternoon might have been spent enjoying tea in the room that once served as the tavern's private dining room. (The room's corner cupboard was constructed by one of Paul Revere's carpenters.) But the most memorable meal of the weekend would likely have been dinner, served in Blass's charming dining room, because that was the meal which would have involved one of Blass's claims to fame: his meatloaf, which Blass liked to serve family-style with mashed potatoes and succotash. (Have you ever made his meatloaf before?) Blass believed that a first course wasn't necessary when serving a hearty meal, so seconds were encouraged. And for dessert? An all-American lattice-top strawberry pie.

Doesn't that sound like a delicious way to spend the weekend?


Breakfast:

Lunch:

Afternoon Tea:

Dinner:

All photos from House Beautiful, October 1992, Antoine Bootz photographer