“Blank
slate.” “Carte blanche.” “Empty room.”
Those words are both a blessing and a curse: full of creative potential, yet sometimes, the complete capacity to cripple a project from the sheer and staggering possibilities, even, at times, for a designer.
Starting
from scratch: usually, I don’t have the fun or luxury of doing it for clients.
Very often, we’re building from an existing rug, favorite art, some main pieces— a sofa, a dresser, a headboard— traces of a past apartment, loft or life.
And
boy, this job was from scratch: an
empty rental, with my client “Lynda” starting a new, husband-free chapter,
making a clean break to an Upper Westside rental high-rise, with her young son.
And clean it was... newly renovated, fresh paint and shiny
floors. EMPTY. We’re talking echo-echo-echo empty. Not even mattresses, hangers
or towels, paper or terry cloth.
So the task at hand was to fill four-ish (more on that later) rooms with every single stick of furniture, piece of art, pillow, accessory and light bulb. Do it quickly (the lease was signed the day I was brought on board), do it on a tight budget, and do it to the standard that the client was used to. (Yeah, that rule of “Time, money, quality... pick two” doesn’t always apply.) The homeowner had used a great designer in the past, under vastly different circumstances where budget was far less an issue than it was here. But that meant the standards were high even if the budget wasn’t.
So
with nothing but a floorplan, how and where do you start?
I
started where every room, whether half full or fully empty, starts: with a
conversation: about what the client likes (that yielded “I like dark woods with
no reds in them,” and “No green.”), and about the necessary functions of the main
space. “Not too matchy” was a frequent part of her vocabulary, posing a
potential challenge to creating a cohesive open-plan public space, much smaller
than she had been accustomed to.
We
settled on “warm modern” as the closest term for the end product. But I also
wanted to give her a settled sense in
this time of uncertainty, so shapes were a bit traditional, the aesthetic a bit
more classical, in spite of a modern sensibility. And, I wanted it to look as
expensive as possible, given the circumstances. I wanted her to be happy to
come home, to entertain friends, and not feel like this chapter was compromise,
financially or stylistically.
Rental Restrictions
It’s
a rental, so the usual restrictions applied: no renovation, no new paint, no hard-wiring.
But like I’ve said it before, if you work with
what’s there, instead of fighting against it or trying to mask it, you
celebrate the givens. Those elements of a space that seem limiting at first
become the start of something beautiful, and take you down paths you might not
have traversed.
In
this case, it was not the typical Manhattan “Builder’s White" walls and mid-tone
parquet. Color-wise, this carte was a
little off-blanche. Pale maple
floors, and a golden tone vanilla wall color that, while neutral, already had a
definite flavor. But by keeping neutrals warm, choosing warm metals like brass
and bronze, and even picking up the yellow undertones with a true yellow in her
son’s room, it all ended up looking like Lynda had painted the place to her own
spec, not the builder’s.
When
money and time are tight, and the slate is completely clean, how do you make
the most of the available resources and the design process to turn white-ish
box into fully-realized home-sweet-home? Here’s how I tackled it.
Stock Answer
The
best way to move quickly on any interior project is to forego custom, head to a
retail source, and focus on the pieces with the longest lead time first, which
often means the bigger stuff. And that often means the upholstery.
The
way to make sure lead times are kept to a minimum on upholstery is to work with
the fabrics those retailers stock the item in. Going with stock fabrics can
mean the difference between “get it this Thursday” or “we’ll call you in six
weeks.” Here, the stocked (at the time) Metropolis fabric on Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams Dana
chairs was an instant hit with— and instant gratification for— the client, and
arrived in a matter of days. Whew! Someplace to sit! Same with the armed and
armless version of the Crate & Barrel Miles dining chairs. In stock, as stocked. Done!
But
when the client insisted on going non-stocked on the Mitchell Gold + Bob
Williams Terence bench (and I agreed that Madigan fabric was worth the wait),
and the Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams Reese sleeper sofa, that choice dragged
the delivery window out to many, many weeks. So, just be prepared to make the
choice between stocked items and project duration.
Think Ahead
This
home is a new chapter for Lynda, but it certainly won’t be her last, so pieces
picked specifically for here also had an eye on the future. And that meant the
largest pieces were kept neutral so they’d work in future spaces. The other
reason for that is...
Monochromatic: Right on the
Money
One
of my favorite ways to make a space look more expensive than the budget is to
match and repeat color but change up the textures. Since we were considering
neutrals on the main pieces (for those above in-stock and future-life reasons),
and since the “envelope” was vanilla, that stage was already set.
Relating upholstery to wall colors (even if, as here, you change the value of the colors... we went more mid-tone than the walls, but stayed warm) is also a way to ease maximum furnishings into a smaller space (a definite issue for Lynda, suddenly down-sizing from an ample loft). And while the room is long, it’s not particularly wide, and needed to handle traffic into the kitchen and her son’s room.
Relating upholstery to wall colors (even if, as here, you change the value of the colors... we went more mid-tone than the walls, but stayed warm) is also a way to ease maximum furnishings into a smaller space (a definite issue for Lynda, suddenly down-sizing from an ample loft). And while the room is long, it’s not particularly wide, and needed to handle traffic into the kitchen and her son’s room.
Don’t Dismiss Any Source
When
time and money are the priorities, you can’t afford to turn your nose up at any
source, and I love that pieces from Pier 1, IKEA, CB2, mass-market internet
sources and the sale shelves at Gracious Home made it into the mix. But any source can yield gold when you mine
it correctly. She had ruled out some sources early on, but they’re actually
here, hiding in plain sight. Mixed sources, a few splurges, and careful choice
throughout make it look more higher-end than bargain basement, and keep it from
looking like it all came off one truck.
Blind Dates and Allen
Wrenches
When
money is tight, there will be some pieces you don’t see until they show up at
your doorstep. Internet and catalogs are great sources when watching costs, but
involve a bit of risk. But I proposed sources I was familiar with, and made
sure they were places with forgiving return policies if things didn’t measure
up to their online photo.
And to keep a project rolling along, and rolling in under budget, someone’s going to have to assemble some furniture. Here, it was the IKEA dining table, the pair of storage towers from CB2 in her son’s room, and the play table from Land of Nod. (Ah, and in this case, it was the designer doing the assembly, part of the “glamorous life” I talked about with fellow blogger/designer Kristen McCory over on her Gild and Garb blog.)
Piecemeal is Dangerous
Because
we were filling an empty home that Lynda and her son were already inhabiting, I
broke my own rule about saving everything up and doing an “Install Day.” She
needed some place to sit, eat, and work.
But
I realized pretty early on here that things were not going to go well when each
piece was delivered when ready. She second-guessed each delivery, and panicked
that she was not going to get the kind of color she was looking for when the
first wave of main pieces were mostly neutral. (“It all looks like butter!” she
said on more than one occasion.)
So once we had some basic function covered, I put the brakes on deliveries. I saved the last wave so it all happened at once, and more importantly, so she saw things in final context. Yes, that meant she ate off a card table for a while, but it also meant the frequent returns ground to a halt.
So once we had some basic function covered, I put the brakes on deliveries. I saved the last wave so it all happened at once, and more importantly, so she saw things in final context. Yes, that meant she ate off a card table for a while, but it also meant the frequent returns ground to a halt.
If
you can’t afford to wait, just prepare for things to feel odd until, well, they
don’t anymore. Or better yet, keep
things in boxes and do all the unpacking at once. Context is huge in pulling a space together, and
each piece (ideally) relates to the next. It’s like having one lonely guest at
a costume party... no one feels comfortable when the first arrival has nobody
to talk to. But the guest list— and the costumes— make much more sense once the
party’s in full swing.
Be Prepared for More Hurdles
The
one-bedroom apartment had been converted to two bedrooms (with a temporary wall
that could be removed upon leaving), slicing the living/dining El into one long
rectangle of living/dining, and turning the floorplan’s dining room into her
son’s room. (It also left the odd remnant of a kitchen pass-though on one wall)
That
meant we had one long alleyway, from front door to window, to take on all
public functions of the apartment: living, dining, TV watching, lounging, work.
It
also meant, on that temporary wall now anchoring the sofa, there were no
electrical outlets. Not a one, a particularly disturbing discovery after
I had personally lobbied so hard for sofa-flanking lamps, from Zinc Door. Thank god for that
peel-and-stick electrical cord cover! Up and over the door to her son’s room we
went, to get those lamps lit.
Use Furniture and Stylng to
Define a Space
The
TV (tucked into the West Elm armoire) had only one wall to live on, which meant
it looked like we’d be ending with one of my pet peeves: All the upholstery on
one wall, all wood stuff on the other. That ends up looking like a
poorly-styled furniture showroom. But that’s what had to happen here.
The best place for dining was right near the entrance, but if we floated the table, it would have literally blocked the entry into the apartment.
The best place for dining was right near the entrance, but if we floated the table, it would have literally blocked the entry into the apartment.
So instead of setting up the dining table to look like dining at all times, it was positioned more as a library/entry table, against the wall. The sconces and mirror created an anchor to make sense of the placement (and the sconces, with high/low switches, were stand-ins for the lack of an overhead fixture), but also made a separate “dining room” where there wasn’t one, and allowed the softening presence of the table’s two arm chairs to break up all the chocolate wood pieces.
When
it’s more than just two for dinner, the clever IKEA table (with self-storing
leaves) expands to seat six easily. Armless chairs are pulled in from their
position flanking her bedroom dresser to round out the seating.
Trade-offs
When
time and budget are tight, you have to steel yourself for the possibility that
you might not find the perfect piece for each item on your list. While Lynda
wanted a cabinet to house the TV, we didn’t have a huge budget for it. This one
came from West Elm, perfect in scale, function, and “non-red dark wood.” The
trade-off for the piece’s affordability (and insta-availabilty)? The doors
don’t fold completely back or pocket back into the piece as they might on a
higher-end version, which threw a wrench into the first idea for a seating
plan. But a custom cabinet, or a more engineered piece, would have broken the
bank.
In
all, and in spite of restrictions, hurdles, a quick calendar and tight purse strings, a home I hope Lynda is happy to come home to.
What are your tips and tricks to starting from scratch?
All After photos: Jody Kivort
