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Posts Tagged ‘Farrow & Ball’

The kitchen renovation: Done! The Big Reveal

In beauty, design, domestic life, food, life, Style on October 12, 2013 at 10:02 pm

By Caitlin Kelly

After 25 years of ugly, we finally have our brand-new kitchen, which my husband Jose  — (thank you, Jose!) — took out a loan for, and which he allowed me to design.

(All photos here were taken by him as well; he is a professional photographer.)

Our contractor, Bruce, brought his terrific team: Tim, Mike, John, Ray and Kevin, whose patience, good humor, talent, experience, ideas and general fabulousness made this process as much fun as dust, noise and chaos for a month can be. I will miss their company, consultations and the chance to watch such skilled workmen doing amazing things.

If you live anywhere near us — north of New York City — hire them!

From initial demolition to “done!” took four weeks, as promised. That was even with a few delays — wrong tile, wrong door — that had to be dealt with and replaced.

Here are some photos — OK, lots of photos! — to give you an idea of the dozens of decisions we made along the way, and why, and how they all played together in the end.

COMBO 01A

COMBO 02A

Colors, Materials and Finishes

I chose the color scheme after reading dozens of design magazines, some of them French and English, like Country Living. I wanted something neutral, but not boring (not white!), something that would work well with the soft gray walls of the adjoining dining room and the pale-yellow-green of the hallway, visible beyond.

Having studied color at design school, I knew that red and green, (complementary opposites on the color wheel), would work — so I went with a sage green and rusty-red, accented with a rich cream, the color of very good vanilla ice cream.

I chose pale green granite counters, with a honed finish: I don’t like the high gloss of polished stone and this powdery finish is totally different in feeling. It had the artisanal quality I wanted.

I chose tile that is machine-made but appears hand-made, with minor curves, bumps and color variations. The accent tiles differ in size, shape, number and texture, but they contain all the colors in the room.

The new wooden floor is herringbone, a pattern more common in European homes.

RUG DETAIL ON FLOORA

The walls are painted a Farrow & Ball color, Clunch, a cool beige. The cabinets are painted French Gray, another of their colors. I’m a huge fan of this British company and its rich, calm colors.

Appliances

We chose a Bosch dishwasher primarily because they are extremely quiet — I work at home and the sloshing of our old dishwasher drove me nuts. If we ever sell this place, I also wanted to instal high-end appliances for re-sale value.

Our gas stove, four-burner, is 30 inches wide, and counter depth, made by Bertazzoni.

Lighting

I chose three wall sconces from Restoration Hardware, and ordered them on-line. I wanted a rustic, patina-ed finish to complement the hand-made feeling of the tile. Their color echoes the accent tile, copper sink and oiled bronze faucet.

Two high hats (ceiling pots) add more illumination. I didn’t want under-shelf lighting, as it would have been visible. The sconces and high hats are both on separate dimmers.

COMBO 08A

Faucet and Sink

Hammered copper sink, from Lowe’s, ordered on-line.

Oiled bronze faucet, bought off the floor at our local Home Depot; the small spout to the right contains dish soap.

I chose those colors and finishes as all hardware in the apartment, (replaced from ugly, cheap brass originals), is oiled bronze, creating a unified look. I also wanted the deep rich brown of the copper to echo the rusty-red of the sconces, the color in the accent tile and the objects on our open shelves, some of which is brown-and-white Victorian transferware, which I collect.

COMBO 09A

Cabinets

Custom-made, lower ones only. The kitchen is small (eight feet long). I’m short and hate reaching for stuff. All the messy things are now stowed in a cabinet around the corner.

Details

I blew $700 on outlets that are completely flush with the walls. They’re gorgeous.

DOOR DETAILSA

I specified no hardware on the cabinets. Styles date. They also get grubby. They also hurt when you bump into them, which in a small, narrow kitchen, you always do.

We chose to have cabinets custom-made. It was a no-brainer. I wanted what I wanted — no compromises. Yes, they were more costly than Ikea.

My reasoning? It’s an hour’s drive to Ikea; I didn’t want to waste even more time fussing with fitting the stuff into a room whose walls (it turned out) were in appalling condition. Time is money. I’m fine with this choice.

For those of you trying to decide which route to take, here’s a recent post from Apartment Therapy on the pro’s and con’s of Ikea kitchens; and 124 comments from another AT post on the same topic.

The wooden box with French writing was all of $12; I found it at a local garden nursery and, lined with plastic, it keeps salt, pepper, oils, sugar, peanut butter and honey (the bare essentials), nearby but hidden.

The cotton throw rug, $20 from Pier One, is washable and, we hope, will keep our floors looking lovely.

The shelves, and brackets, also from Restoration Hardware, were stupidly expensive, but I didn’t have time or inclination to shop around endlessly for something less, and possibly less well-made. They turned out to have a subtle pale green finish, which was perfect; had my color scheme been different — not so much!

FRENCH BOXA

I’m short, and so always need a step-ladder to reach upper shelves. Here’s the pull-out drawer I also specified that keeps the step-ladder handy, but hidden.

LADDER DRAWERA

We also re-made an adjacent closet into a stone-topped breakfast bar (that holds toaster, coffeemaker and juicer, with a built-in outlet in one wall.) The three drawers below it hold all work-related papers and documents.

PANTRYA

We are loving it — everything glides smoothly and quietly. It’s both efficient and sensual.

Now I’m looking for clients, locally and by email/photo/Skype consultation. Happy to help you choose colors, furniture, lighting, fabrics, even just one room. 

You’ll find me at caitlinvancouver@yahoo.com or 914-332-6065.

The value of re-making your home

In beauty, behavior, design, domestic life, life, Money, Style, urban life on September 29, 2013 at 12:03 am

By Caitlin Kelly

Kotowski Palace in Warsaw, interior design

Kotowski Palace in Warsaw, interior design (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As someone passionate about interior design, and who has studied it seriously at the New York School of Interior Design, I enjoy this blog, the public face of an American design firm, McAlpine Tankersley.

I liked this recent post about why it’s worth re-making your home:

Change is always necessary to promote growth and without varying from the comfortable and the everyday, lessons are seldom learned. Faced with potential, however, fear kicks in and says, “let’s just keep things the way they are”; even if a situation is stagnant, it’s my stagnant situation and I’ll sit in it. But how can change have value? An example I can show (because you do tend to come here for visuals to accompany my soapbox) was evident in Bobby’s personal Montgomery home.

In the ten years he lived in this English cottage, the interior underwent three major transformations. As designers, we always use our personal homes as living, active laboratories. We try things out on our tireless, often unsuspecting, families before we suggest them to our clients. Experimentation and change in our environs are personal tools of lesson and discovery.

This is so true!

I’ve lived for 25 (!) years in the same top-floor, 1,000 square foot one bedroom apartment. I doubt I’ll live anywhere else, which is a little depressing, (it’s small and New York is brutally expensive for most larger spaces in neighborhoods we like), but also focuses us intently on making our home the prettiest, most efficient and most comfortable and welcoming we can make it.

It’s absolutely been my design lab.

When I moved in, it was all a bland, boring beige, with cat-pee-stained/stinky oatmeal-colored wall-to-wall-carpet. Gross!

I’ve changed the wall colors here many times, currently a deep mustard in the bathroom, a cool beige in the kitchen, a soft gray in the bedroom and dining room, and a soft yellow-green in the living room and hallway; since there are few doors, the sight-lines make a major difference if the colors and tones relate poorly.

I’d also rather invest in fewer, better items, (like many Europeans do, living in small spaces) than face the expense of designing, furnishing, cleaning and maintaining a large(r) house. Not to mention the cost of new roof/boiler/furnace and all the attendant work of cleaning and maintaining any outdoor property.

If you’re wealthy, great!

But if you’re not, re-using your home-space to its best advantage is often more about being creative and open-minded: re-purposing, re-covering, repainting, moving things around, editing heavily, building your own items and scoring great finds at flea markets, tag sales and auctions.

I read every shelter magazine out there, every month, so I see the blinged-out mega-mansions some people live in.

But I also read blogs like Design Sponge and Apartment Therapy, which feature regular folk with smaller budgets or less opulent taste.

As we finish up our kitchen renovation — one for which I waited 25 years — I already see the enormous difference it makes, emotionally and practically, in our lives. We didn’t pour $50,000 or $100,000, (yes, people do) into our small galley kitchen.

But we did splurge on some items: honed granite counters, high-end appliances (a Bertazzoni gas range and Bosch dishwasher), and spend-y Farrow & Ball paint for custom-made cabinets and walls.

I love the little surprises that (happily) occurred — the shelves we bought have a subtle green-ish gray stain that perfectly matches the cabinets. The narrow grooves in our drawers and cabinets (in lieu of external hardware) create runnels of sunlight reflected from the windows. The new cream tile, with its glossy surface, bounces much more light, both artificial and natural.

At Luxor Design Northgate Mall / louis-quinze ...

At Luxor Design Northgate Mall / louis-quinze style interior. Definitely more formal than our place! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s been an amazing experience, and the second reno we’ve done; we re-did our one, tiny (5 by 7 foot) bathroom four years ago.

I gained a lot of confidence from the results, and now hope to find some part-time work as a designer using these as my portfolio.

The next major step?

Refinishing and darkening our hardwood floors.

Have you re-made your home?

Changed its colors or designs?

Twenty reasons I (still) love my home, 23 years later

In beauty, behavior, domestic life, life, Style, urban life on August 25, 2012 at 9:32 pm

I’ve never lived in one home this long. Ever.

Growing up in Toronto, between the ages of 3 and 30, when I left, I lived in three houses and four apartments, none of which I owned.

Between September 1982 and June 1989, I moved from Toronto-Paris-Toronto (different apartment)-Montreal-rural New Hampshire-New York.

Enough!

I moved into this one-bedroom suburban New York apartment in June 1989. It was the absolute most we could afford to buy, assuming we’d be moving into a house within a few years as my first husband’s income improved.

Not quite. Finally solvent after years of medical training, he left the apartment and the marriage within two years of our wedding. Sweet!

I stayed, damn glad I’d insisted on the pre-nuptial agreement that made sure I could.

I’m writing this on our balcony. The wind is blowing. A helicopter just buzzed straight overhead, low. I can hear crickets, and the low hum of traffic on the bridge a mile away.

Here’s why I’m still (surprisedly) happy to be here:

It’s been my emotional anchor. Since we moved in, ripping out all the ugly cat-pee-stinky carpeting, I’ve been married and divorced and remarried. I’ve had four surgeries, won and lost well-paid jobs, sold two books. Put my dog to sleep. This familiar space has comforted me with unchanging stability through it all.

The view. A tree is finally growing into our terrific view of the Hudson River. My next door neighbor and I are plotting how to trim it without having to plead hopelessly with the co-op board.

The breeze. On all but the hottest days, a delicious breeze blows through our windows, atop a high hill.

Top floor! 

The pool. I see its turquoise glimmer beckoning me through the trees. It makes me feel wealthy indeed to have access to a pool — and not have to take care of it.

Can you see it?

Wildlife. The other night a very large coyote stood barely 20 feet from me in our parking lot. Deer routinely graze on our lawn, and we hear raccoons often. We even have enormous wild turkeys on our street. All this so close to New York we can see the Empire State Building from our street.

Good neighbors. When you stay a long, long time in one spot, you get to know, like and trust — you hope! — a few of your neighbors. Here’s an essay I wrote in 2008 about my building for The New York Times.

A sense of history. I’ve seen tiny babies, once held football style in the hallways here, go off to college. I still remember, well, many of our older residents who’ve left, a few for nursing homes and far too many to the cemetery.

It’s my ever-evolving design lab. I studied interior design in the 1990s, and have changed the wall colors here many times. The front hallway began a brilliant lemon yellow, paled to a softer version, was coral for a few years and is now, best of all, a Farrow & Ball color, Gervase Yellow. My bedroom walls have gone from sponge-painted Greek taverna-wall blue to aqua to a soft gray. (If you want to make a serious, fantastic investment in your home, try F & B paint. It’s costly, but worth every penny.)

Our bathroom. Love it. I designed every inch of it — all 5 x 7 feet — from the curved wall-mounted wooden vanity to the mirror I had made by re-purposing an antique Chinese frame. Our new tub is 21 inches deep. Heaven!

Sunsets. They’re simply amazing, every one more beautiful than the rest.

An ever-changing weather movie. We see snow, hail, rain and even occasional tornados as they move south or east towards us across the Hudson River. Some mornings the fog is so thick we can’t even see our own parking lot. It’s a New York version of the classic 1857 woodblock by Hiroshige of a yudachi, a sudden summer downpour.

See what I mean?!

Low-maintenance. In the summer, our balcony plants need watering. But rarely do we need to spend for the plumber, electrician or a professional plaster and paint touch-up. I prefer having the additional time, physical energy and cash this allows.

Light! I thrive on natural light, and with large windows facing northwest, no tall buildings nearby and none ever likely to be erected, this is never an issue. Especially working at home, even the gloomiest days are not oppressive.

Less money needed for furniture/curtains/electronics/art. I’d rather own fewer, better things than inhabit a huge space that’s half-empty or jammed with junk. Living in a smaller space forces us to edit carefully, choosing only what we value, use and that truly delights our eye.

Seasonal decor. Our living room looks very different in summer than winter, as we switch out colors, designs and materials, (like a scarlet kilim rug for a white catalogne; red and yellow paisley pillow covers for white and emerald green.) It saves wear and tear on our things and gives us a fresh look to enjoy. We also move our art — photos, drawings, prints, lithos, paintings and posters — from room to room, sometimes (gallery style) putting some away for a few years so we can appreciate them anew.

A good layout. I should be sick of the same four walls. But with six discrete areas in 1,000 square feet — seven in summer with the 72 square foot balcony — I very rarely feel cramped.

We’re not “underwater.” We’re not making out like bandits, but we have equity in our home and a fixed mortgage rate that’s decent. It’s deeply un-American to stay put, and not keep moving up into larger, costlier housing.  I do sometimes long to inhabit a house again. But knowing we can weather almost every financial storm and not lose our home to some toxic mortgage or sudden jump in property taxes offers comfort in these times of such financial insecurity.

Our stone walls. The property once belonged to a wealthy land-owner who built deep, thick stone walls with jagged edges facing the street. When covered with a layer of snow, they look exactly like a row of teeth!

It’s affordable. While our monthly costs, of mortgage and co-op fees combined, might seem high to some people, they’re crazy low for New York, where $5,000 a month or more is fairly normal for a mortgage, even some rents. I was single and freelance from 1996 to 2001, and could still handle the cost, with the added benefit  of never facing a sudden rent increase or forced sale.

How do you feel about your home?

What Color Is Your Paradigm?

In culture, Uncategorized on August 3, 2009 at 9:27 pm
COLOURS OF MY LIFE

Image by FUNKYAH via Flickr

In this lousy economy, it’s a safe bet that the classic job-hunter’s guide “What Color is My Parachute?” is selling even more than usual. I’m crazy about color, and in awe of its complexity.

In July’s British Vogue, a writer whose name combines a fruit and a color, Plum Sykes, wrote about her love of a soft pink especially flattering to her pale English complexion. August’s issue of House Beautiful is devoted to color and reveals how some interior designers figure out what to suggest to their clients — a standard trick is observing what clothes they choose and what flatters them.

Planning to leave journalism and become an interior designer, I studied at The New York School of Interior Design, where I learned firsthand, by mixing it from scratch, how incredibly challenging it can be to mix every permutation of a color. (Earning that A- was a triumph.) Creating the color of putty doesn’t sound difficult, but it is. Yellow is everything from daffodil to butter to turmeric. I learned what chromatic means and when a color is just too loud, how to mute it (not by adding white, but its opposite on the color wheel.) Some of the most beautiful combinations, not coincidentally, are color wheel opposites — for example, the classic combination of a pale pink and wine bottle green, variants of red and green. When two colors work in harmony, this is often why. Look at a sunset — all purples and yellows — and look at the color wheel. Nature gets it right. Read the rest of this entry »

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