I'm Hyperventilating...

(Charleston House, Lewes, England)

(www.charleston.org.uk -- worth the click!)

Two of my favorite entities, Charleston House and Farrow and Ball, have joined forces to create a new color called "Bloomsbury Blue Gray." (How did I not know this until now?) The exclusive color has been painstakingly matched to the original woodwork and was used to restore the exterior of the house this past spring. I'll have to call the Melrose store and see if it's out yet. I feel sure I can find something in my house that desperately needs a coat of "Bloomsbury Blue Gray." 

To commemorate their collaboration, Farrow and Ball are sponsoring two public events at Charleston House that I would give my eyeteeth to attend. The first one is a Screen Painting Workshop on July 18-19th in which you use Farrow and Ball paints to make original stencils inspired by the many beautiful decorative screens in the house. Please, someone out there attend and report back!

In the second workshop (to be held on 13 October), a Farrow and Ball international color consultant is giving color tips on how to  create the interior of your dreams, use color to change the shape of a room and much more. Charleston House's curator, Dr. Wendy Hitchmough will also discuss the unique color palette of the house. 

I visited the house in 2007 and was absolutely besotted by its wayward charm. I'm sure that pale gray blue on the window frame must be the color in question, don't you think? It's almost luminous against those taupey hues of the wall.

And of course those errant lashings of green around the windows only add to its appeal.

When it comes to design and my love of sweet disorder, I hew closely to the poet Robert Herrick (1591-1674) and his insistence that a bit of carelessness and neglect and wild civility "...Do more bewitch me than when Art is too precise in every part." 

Anyone with me on that?

Home Alone

This Saturday, something momentous occurred. The Divine Italian left for a week in Europe and The Little Prince had a 24 hour sleepover, which meant: empty house! Don't get me wrong, of course I pined for them horribly, but I haven't had a night to myself in I can't remember how long.

Darlings, it was heavenly.

Lest you think there was any "Risky Business" sliding around in socks and underwear, let me emphatically assure you there was not. 

But it did get quite wild.

1. I put in my favorite Noel Coward CD and brazenly turned up the volume.

2. I resolutely attacked the dreaded kitchen junk drawer. And won.

3. I willfully threw away a stack of old magazines that I had sworn I would read.

4. I rearranged my scarves.

5. I sauntered from room to room, dithered, vacillated and stared at nothing in particular. 

(I know, I know, you've gone positively weak in the knees, haven't you?)

But the undisputed highlight of the evening was watching "Women in Love", Ken Russell's 1969 adaptation of D. H. Lawrence's 1920 classic novel. I've been waiting to unleash it from its little Netflix envelope for practically ever, but it's not The Divine Italian's oeuvre. (He still hasn't forgiven me for making him sit through "Howard's End.")

Have you seen it? If not, I highly recommend that you do. Not only does Russell visually capture the lush lyricism of Lawrence's prose, the film is gorgeous and sexy and bohemian and a must for anyone who appreciates color and design. 

Some personal highlights follow.

Jennie Linden's outfit reminded me of Sonia Delaunay's paintings in the 1920's, which were noted for their geometric abstractions.

("Electric Prisms", 1914)

Delaunay also designed clothes, a few sketches of which can be seen here.

I've always been fascinated by Sonia. When I pulled up this photo of her on the Internet, I was struck by the realization that her outfit......is almost identical to the one which Glenda Jackson wears in the film's opening.

In terms of production design, the ramshackle cottage that Alan Bates lives in struck me as very John Derian-like (in the best possible way).

Here's Derian's apartment as featured in Elle Decor in March 2006.

(via Habitually Chic)

The reds and blues of the set design also brought to mind John Robshaw's Kalil bedding which I seriously am coveting. I may have to stop by Living Room, one of my favorite local haunts, because they carry his line.

The homespun furnishings also reminded me of a display I saw recently at Dan Marty's showroom.

When this outfit popped up onscreen (the one in the middle, worn by Eleanor Bron), three words popped into my head: Dries. Van. Noten.

Here are three photos from Van Noten's past runway shows (not sure which season.) The feeling is the same, don't you think?  Lots of vibrant prints, colors, unusual fabrics and layering.

Here, his coat exactly picks up the peacocky hue of the cape in the movie.

Another example of Dries' multilayered, non-matching approach. Not for everyone, I know, but definitely for me. 

In this scene, I was floored by the jolt of color coming from Glenda's mango-colored dress when set against the mauve bricks and green gate. I think the colors are so striking together, another example of the brilliant art direction of the movie.

The palette reminded me of Farrow and Ball's "Rosslyn Papers" wallpaper in the following two colorways.

I must say, I finally understood the appeal of Oliver Reed in this movie. It's those naughty eyes. But in this luncheon scene, it was his jacket which held my gaze.

Isn't it the spitting image of this 19th century French chair upholstered in Peter Dunham's velvet Almont Stripe? Available at 1st Dibs.
Last but not least, there was the legendary naked wrestling scene between Oliver and Alan Bates. When they finally collapsed onto the floor, I gasped, not because of the scene's undeniable homoeroticism, but because...
...that rug was almost the spitting image of the one I snapped on Friday from Fort Street Studios! 

Oh, what a movie. Oh, what a night.

Light vs. Dark

The Kenmore Arms has been bustling this week.  My climbing roses are finally gathering courage and beginning to wrap themselves with long graceful sweeps around the front balcony. 

Maybe it's good karma rubbing off from this book I'm reading...

...because I have what's known in horticultural circles as the dreaded "thumb noir". Even cacti wither around me. But speaking as a newfound optimalist, the bright side could be that I have undiscovered talents in composting.

Anyway, let's move inside, where the painters have been busy priming and painting since Monday. I have been itching to redo my upstairs office for a while now and, after much consideration, settled on Farrow and Ball's "Old White." It's a beautiful color, gentle and soft. 

And I liked it for all of four hours.

(Tuesday, April 5th)

Unfortunately, as soon as it dried I had a huge revelation that what I actually wanted was the complete opposite. (Why do all revelations come after you write the check?)  I craved drama, mood, mystery. My office needs to double as an occasional Lilliput-sized screening room and I wanted a destination that would feel sophisticated by day and ever-so-slightly sexy by night. A bit Babington House...

with just a dash of 18th century Spitalfields.

(Photo of Dennis Sever's house, which I discovered through a 

commenter... Thank you, Linda! I am officially obsessed.)

Dark doesn't scare me. As you can imagine, life here in California is very, very sunny (to put it mildly). To me, the sun is a huge Klieg light in the sky with its spotlight relentlessly trained on every man, woman and child. It's fine for The Divine Italian; he's a heat-seeker. I, however, am Norwegian and Irish and I am a pale snail looking for a dark refuge. 

So I bit the bullet and told the painters to come back on Thursday so that they could redo what they just that minute finished doing. 

This time, I went with Farrow and Ball's "Railings", a deep bluey-black...

(Thursday, April 7th)

...and I can't believe how much more I love it. It's a totally different room. It was suffering from an identity crisis and now it's found itself.

And see, it still gets a lot of light. And despite its admittedly more masculine feel, right beyond those French doors are all those sun-loving roses, entwined in pink splendor.  So it's all very yin yang. 

Of course, now that it's painted, I am itching to change everything else. Like the curtains, the couch and the desk chair. Last November, I was lucky enough to visit Peter Dunham's "Gentleman's Study" at Veranda Magazine's Greystone Mansion Showhouse and I still can't get it out of my head.

I would love to create my own mini homage to it at The Kenmore Arms. His "Globe" curtains speak to me in a profound way. They're very Royal Geographic Society meets Diana Vreeland.

And I might have to reupholster my desk chair in his "Almont Stripe".

Stay tuned.

Samarkand Bliss

It's raining.  A drizzly, implacable London rain making a guest appearance in Hollywood. Fog everywhere, looming over the Kodak Theater and the Capitol Records Tower.  I'm waiting for Ricardo, my wonderful curtain guy, to come over and hang my Peter Dunham "Samarkand" living room curtains. 

I chose the colorway above because my walls are painted Farrow and Ball's "Green Blue" and I wanted them to be a subtle backdrop to the rest of the room.  Goodness knows I have enough going on in there already.

For an entire year now, I've been avoiding photographing the windows.  I either crop them out of frame or have people move away from them whenever I take a picture.  Very occasionally, they make it into a shot.  

See what I mean?  They're big barren spaces of nothingness.  When we moved in a year ago, the previous owner had left some voluminous swagged "Gone with the Wind" curtains that resembled ball gowns from an antebellum Bette Davis movie.  I'm sure they cost a fortune, but they didn't work.  Underneath were the slatted blinds, so we've been living with those ever since. 

Doorbell.  Excuse me.

(One hour later)

Ricardo works fast.  I'm back.  They're up.  I'm ecstatic.  They completely change the whole room, don't you think?

I specifically chose cornices over curtain rods because I wanted to add some height and drama to the room.  Plus, I like the feeling of traditional coziness they provide.  When the curtains are closed, you can see the lovely border along the inside edge which emphasizes their verticality.

I think the pattern's large scale works as an effective backdrop to the room: expansive enough to add texture but subtle enough not fight with the other patterns.  I couldn't be happier. We're having a dinner party on Saturday. Maybe we can eat in the living room.

For those of you who may be heading to LA soon, do yourself a favor and stop by Peter's beautiful store, Hollywood at Home.  It's one of my favorite places in the world, and is such a wonderful showcase for the brilliant interior and fabric design that Peter does so well.  The vibe is glamorous, aristo-bohemian, globe-trotting chic.  (Think Jackie Onassis in Jaipur or Jemima Khan in St. Tropez.)  If you're lucky enough to see him there, be sure to say hello, as he and his welcoming staff are as kind a set of people as you're ever likely to meet.