Design Wise: Piet Boon

Each week here in The Library I'd like to play librarian, if I may, and introduce you all to someone I think you'd like; someone who's not only worthy of mentioning but also of further reading. It will usually be someone I've met or come into contact with. And it will usually be someone inspiring. Because we can't get enough of those types...

Last week it was Mr Jeffrey Bilhuber, interior designer to the stars. (Including Ms Anna Wintour, although I can't imagine how difficult it would be being her decorator.) This week, it's another extraordinary design talent: the inimitable, always elegant Dutch designer Piet Boon.

I first came across the work of Piet Boon and his design studio when I bought one of his monographs, Piet Boon 2 (which features what must be the most beautiful cover of any architecture or design book ever published). The project inside were imbued with a quiet elegance and understated sophistication, and yet they had a polished drama as well. In a word, they were soigné. Then I discovered that Mr Boon started his career as a carpenter. What an arc, to go from chippie to world-renowned design star! Now his busy studio not only designs architecture and interiors for residential and commercial clients, it also produces furniture and products for the likes of Dutch manufacturer Moooi. (Another great brand.) I was so impressed that I asked him if I could feature his work in a book I was editing at the time, called Design in Black and White. He couldn't have been more gracious.

If I had an extravagant income, I'd hire Piet Boon in a heartbeat. As it stands, I'll just have to be content with his beautiful books. Although I DID see that his studio is having what appears to be a sale of some kind, so if you're in The Netherlands this month perhaps look it up? I'd offer more details, but I don't quite understand the language. All I can recognise is "Pin of Cash", which I presume is Dutch for bring all the money that you can?
Datum: zaterdag 19 en zondag 20 november 2011 . Tijd: 10.00 - 17.00uur 

Lokatie: in het nieuwe gebouw tegenover de hoofdingang van ons hoofdkwartier Skoon 78, 1511 HV Oostzaan 

Betaling: Pin of cash 

Garantie: op items uit deze sale zit geen garantie en kunnen ook niet worden geretourneerd

Look up pietboon.com for more details of his projects and signature style (which he describes as "Simple Sophistication" but I tag as "coolly glamorous"). But in the meantime, here are some images of his well-groomed style, as featured in  Design in Black and White. (Images Publishing.)

NB Piet's new book, Piet Boon III, has just been released worldwide by Lanoo publishers. I've already put it on Christmas Wish List.

{Images courtesy of Piet Boon.}

Style Insights: Fabric Stores

Journalists are often asked where the best places in the world are, be they boutiques, bars, bistros, hotels, hideaways, activities, unusual museums and galleries or just great little neighbourhoods to get lost in. I think this is because we're often the first to know of such places, thanks to the helpful PR companies that keep us up to date. But we also hear about these places from bloggers - who are surprisingly quick to find out about them - as well as those industry contacts who trawl the world in search of these aesthetic treasures, such as photographers, editors, architects, designers, stylists and store owners.

I believe it's important to share these insider's tips, because what goes around soon comes back, as the old Creative Karma rule advocates. If we share our favourite finds, then others will share in the pleasure of them, and may even return a few style secrets of their own. So, every Thursday, I'll post some of my favourite 'Style Sites'; places in the world I love visiting for their inspiration, insights, great products and gorgeous design. Here, to begin with, are my favourite fabric stores.


1. MOOD FABRICS, NEW YORK  This store is so big I always have to persuade my partner to come with me so he can kindly hold the bolts while I browse the aisles! (Such a gentleman. Nothing says love like a man holding a houndstooth for his girlfriend.) It’s the most extraordinary space; three enormous levels filled to the roof with fabrics of every kind, and most are discounted. I often buy Ralph Lauren linens here, marked down from $200/yard to $12/yard. There are chiffons, shirt fabrics, pin stripes, upholstery fabrics and an entire row of linings. It’s so popular, the owner is opening an outpost in London in 2012. 225 West 37th Street, New York.

2. TISSUS REINE, PARIS  Where else in the world can you buy gorgeous silk-taffeta for this cheap? Last time, I picked up six metres of Pompadour-pink silk for a handful of Euros, which was then swiftly sewn into Parisian-style curtains for our guest bedroom. Very French. (It was just a pity we didn’t have the parquetry floors, high ceilings and a balconied view of the Eiffel Tower to go with it.) Filled to the rafters with inspiring bolts and bits (or passementerie, as the French call it. Just lovely. 3-5 Place Saint Pierre, Montmartre, Paris.

3. ULTRAMOD  This store, or mercerie as the French call it, is too marvellous for words. Apparently Jean-Paul Gaultier shops here and that’s credibility enough for me. If JP’s here mooching through the millinery, then I’m here too. The store dates from 1890 and is like stepping back in time to an old-fashioned haberdashery. Sweetly atmospheric. 14 Rue Monsigny, Paris.

4. CLOTH HOUSE, LONDON   I found this place by accident one day while wandering through Soho and now try to visit whenever I’m in London. It’s a pretty little place with cute window displays and several rooms full of lovely linens, cottons and woollens. Just try to resist. 47 Berwick Street, Soho, London.

A Parisian Thank You...

I don't want to fill up this blog with images or excerpts from my books, as that would be far too boring - and besides, there are so many other interesting things in the world to feature here. However, I do feel that I should say a sincere thank you to certain magazines and media outlets that have kindly featured my latest book, Paris: A Guide To the City's Creative Heart. My grandmother always told me that manners were the sign of a well-bred lady, and as I never - NEVER - ignored anything my grandmother told me, I'd like to send my heartfelt thanks to the following for their lovely reviews this month: The Australian newspaper, Vogue magazine, MindFood magazine, MAP magazine, the Canberra Times, Australia's ABC radio, Avenue bookstore in Melbourne, Shearer's Bookstore in Sydney and many gracious bloggers. Your comments have been wonderful to read.

Paris: A Guide to the City's Creative Heart

American Idyll

I have a handful of favourite hotels in the world that I like to stay at, time and time again, when I'm travelling for business. (I know. I'm boring. But I think I'd rather walk off a 14-hour flight and straight into a familiar space than wonder if the new hotel I've booked into will even remember that I'm coming!) These are hotels where you can check in with ease, even if it's 10AM, and where the doorman remembers your name, even if it's been two years since you've seen him. They're hotels where the interiors are stylish and intriguing, but you're not paying a premium for the privilege of seeing them, and where the pool deck, breakfast terrace, library and reception area are always filled with fresh towels, a selection of tea, coffee and snacks, lots of books and informative things to read through - preferably about the city you're in. Most importantly, these are hotels that are affordable - usually between A$100 and $250/night  - but they somehow make you feel as though you're in a $1000 suite.

Some of these hotels include the Dean Street Townhouse in London's Soho (love the luxurious bathrooms fitted with supplies from the Cowshed spa), the Viceroy in LA, the Pantheon and Senat in Paris, The Landing in the Bahamas, and the Night Hotel in New York City. But perhaps my favourite hotel is The Moorings, one of the most sublime hideaways I've ever seen.

Located in a charming place called Islamorada ("Village of Islands"), which is set halfway down the Florida Keys, The Moorings is actually an enclave of extraordinary beach houses scattered around an old coconut grove on the Bahamas side of the ocean. Designed by Herbert Baudoin, one of the loveliest gentleman you'll ever meet, this pocket of postcard-worthy prettiness is so photogenic that Ralph Lauren, Bruce Weber, Vogue, Jennifer Lopez and dozens of other names regularly use it for photo shoots. The week I was here to shoot the place, George Bush Sr was in the house next door, the Secret Service were on the beach and Victoria’s Secret were shooting the next catalogue on the pier. Such an oxymoronic scene, but everyone was happy. And who wouldn’t be, staying here?

For more details, see The Moorings website - www.mooringsvillage.com (which really doesn't do the place justice).  But in the meantime, here are some of my favourite scenes...

(And let me know what your favourite hotels are, too. Would love to hear of them.)

Seeing Green

I'm having a torrid love affair with the colour green at the moment. And so, it seems, is everyone else, judging by the covers and contents of many of the style and home magazines this month. (I know. Who would have thought green would ever swing back into fashion?) I've never had much to do with green until now. I think this is because I once read that it was the colour associated with fairies, and that, according to myth, the fairies were deeply grieved if people didn't respect their claim on the shade. Well, I'm very sorry fairies, but it's just too beautiful to pass up. Surely you can share it for a few months?

Green reminds me of gardens. And summer. And the luminous lightness of new spring leaves. It reminds me of English conservatories, and gentlemen's libraries, and old country kitchens, with painted timber doors. It takes me back to the day I discovered Ladurée, that chic French patisserie (which is famous for its Parisian-green packaging), and the morning I wandered into Kate Spade's flagship New York store, which showcased green like never before. Inspired by Ms Spade, we've since painted our hallway in a deep, double-strength geranium green and it's like walking into a garden, every single time.

Green is fresh, sharp, elegant, sophisticated, whimsical and calming. It's also utterly surprising. Tom Scheerer loves it. So does Charlotte Moss. Christopher Maya associates it with Palm Beach in the '60s and '70s, and those carefree days of David Hicks and Lilly Pulitzer. ("I think of parties with ice cubes clinking in glasses and lots of laughter".) The rest of us wonder why we've never noticed it before.

Green is difficult to do, but if you're daring, try it with pink. Or white. Or even black, which gives it depth and dignity. We've hung lots of black and white photography over the leaf-green walls of our hall. The effect is simply startling.

Here are some of my favourite green moments over the past two years...

Gourmet Green: Bistro Guilluame, Melbourne.

Where sublime interior design meets first-class cuisine.

A study in green: Monet's house and garden at Giverny.

Going green in the tropics: The Presidential Suite at the Maya Ubud hotel, Bali.  

The stunning private pool of this suite picks up the striking green of the surrounding jungle and sets the tone for this stylish hill-top hideaway.

A very Parisian green: Le Dokhan’s hotel, Paris. 

A sublime little hideaway, Dokhan’s elevates green to an elegant level. The Champagne Bar (it only serves bubbly) is decorated entirely in a delicate shade of pale wasabi green (although this, being Paris, it’s probably described more as a “diluted absinthe green”). A fitting backdrop for a glass (or four) of golden French Champagne.

A very surprising green: The Viceroy hotel, LA. 

Decorated by Kelly Wearstler, this was one of the first US hotels to really break ground with green. One of my all-time favourite places. 

An elegant Art Deco green: The Hotel Victor, South Beach, Miami.

Such a fresh space for a city that tends to be saturated in colour.

Lining' em up in green: The Sagamore hotel, Miami.

Love those fresh green stripes in the poolside banquettes, which elegantly reflect the lush landscape of the hotel's garden.

Why I Blog...

A TRIBUTE TO SARA DOUGLASS AND THE NONSUCH KITCHEN GARDEN...

I've always, always wanted to have a blog - and have been told by my various publishers that I SHOULD have a blog! (And tumblr, and Facebook, and Twitter...) But, like most writers, I write so much during the day that when it's time to clock off from the "professional" shift and began my private life the last thing I want is to keep sitting at the laptop. (Many journalists are reluctant to have blogs or Facebook for this reason.) The digital world is wonderful for staying in contact with people - and indeed meeting new ones - but I want the memories of my family and friends to be the kind that take place in real sunshine. I want to see my friends and family in person (like we did in the good old days, remember?), so I can remember their laughter, their faces, their gestures, and their smiles. I want to ask about their lives face to face, and hear their stories in lovely, drawn-out conversations over a coffee or home-made lunch, not in a 140-word essayette over a mobile phone.

But while I may have been reluctant to have a blog of my own, I've been happy to follow others over the years. There's something about stumbling upon a new writer, particularly one who makes you laugh such as Slim Paley or Millie from The Laurel Hedge, that puts you in a positive frame of mind and sets you right for the rest of the day. This is what happened when, in researching gardens on the Internet one day, I found the Nonsuch Kitchen Garden site. {nonsuchkitchengardens.com/wordpress}

Written by bestselling writer Sara Douglass, this lovely blog chronicled Sara's life away from the keyboard and in her beloved kitchen garden, located in the heart of Tasmania's capital, Hobart. It detailed her efforts at transforming a big, old "gentleman's residence" (as she called it) into a beautiful home, where one of the main focuses was the enormous half-acre garden. For years, she toiled to create an enchanting space, and for years I followed her, enthralled at her writing, her photographs, her produce and her life. Then, last year, she confessed to her many readers that she was very ill. Ovarian cancer, she said, and she admitted the prognosis wasn't good.

Her posts became sporadic after that, although when she did write it was uplifting, as if she knew she had to give her posts her all. She didn't shy away from her disease, and even wrote an article about it, "The Silence of the Dying", which caused an uproar in both the media and public domain. She said she wasn't afraid of dying, and if she wasn't, then neither were we. The posts thinned out in 2011, and we waited to hear how her life was faring, and if the kitchen garden was as frail as she. We didn't expect the worst would come as quickly as it did. On September 27 this year, the newspapers announced that Sara Douglass had died, leaving behind hundreds of thousands of fans, a legacy of bestsellers and her beloved house and kitchen garden, endearingly named "Nonsuch". The outpouring of grief was extraordinary. I was one of those who cried.

I, too, have experienced an ovarian cancer scare, and it shocked and silenced me. I'm fine now, but Sara's tragic news subdued me for a week. It was difficult to believe that a woman who had inspired so many others, for so many years, was now gone for good. Her last post was awful, but the news that her ashes were spread over her beloved garden made us all smile.

This is when I decided to start a blog. If Sara could inspire me, then perhaps I, too, could inspire others. Because that, after all, is what blogs are for. It just took me a long time to realise it.

So this, Miss Sara, is my tribute to you. An inspirational place of gardening, life, humour, writing, happiness, family, home, love, photography, travel, dreams and insights. I just hope I can inspire others half as much as you inspired me.

Once, Upon an Island...

I'd like to introduce you to one of my favourite places in the world. The tiny island outpost of Harbour Island, in the Bahamas.

I discovered this divine little island when I travelled there a few years ago to do a photo shoot on a famous little hotel called The Landing, which is owned by a lovely Bahamian and an Australian expat, and features interiors by India Hicks. Unfortunately, a hurricane hit the area the night I flew into the capital, Nassau, and I had to hole up in the Atlantis Hotel for a week until it passed. By the time I arrived on this far-flung island, I was ready for a cocktail, a swim in a serene sea and a couple of nights of calm, Hurricane-free sleep. The Landing happily obliged.

The hotel and island are two of the most idyllic destinations you can imagine. Think of the charm and clapboard prettiness of New England's architecture crossed with the pastel colours of the Caribbean, then throw in an extraordinarily beautiful pink beach, a charming bustling harbour, a lot of eccentric but marvellous (and astonishingly good-looking) locals, and a culture that's part colonial British and part Bahamian, and then wrap it up in an island that's only a few miles long, and you have Harbour Island. The place is enchanting

I'll post a story on The Landing and hopefully also India Hicks, when I get an interview with her, early next year, as we hope to travel there again to get married. But in the meantime, here are some vignettes of its gorgeous island charm.

A Garden and a Library...

Many of us harbour a romantic dream of an Arcadian idyll; a blissful, bucolic refuge far from the city, society pressures and stress. We imagine we can wander out to our potager to pluck some dew-fresh Listanda de Gandia or some Royal Purple Pod beans before retreating to our enormous country kitchen to create a Maggie Beer-style spread. We imagine we’ll have so many rooms in this rural retreat that we can convert one to a study, one to a flower room, one to a painting space and one to a library. (The hubster, naturally, gets the shed out the back.) As Marcus Tullius Cicero once said: “If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.”

This is what happened to my partner and I. Seduced by the idea of a villa rustica (working farm), a villa urbana (country house) or even a villa rundowna, we started looking for a country home. The problem was, we wanted an enchanting place with a large, mature garden within easy stroll of a village, in a high-rainfall area, within an hour’s drive of Melbourne. Easier dreamed than done. To paraphrase Jane Austen: If only we could all find such a place. Then a real estate agent suggested a old timber house called ‘Windermere’. It needed work and had been on the market for a year, he said: were we interested? It was love at first doorknob. We didn’t even make it to the butler’s pantry. We took one look at the rambling overgrown garden, the colonial-style floorplan, the enormous rooms and the lovely country road (Arthur Streeton's old estate was just across the way), and signed off the same day.

There was just one problem. The house, like us, was worn around the edges from stress and wear. Soon after we moved in, the walls gave way, the rotten deck collapsed, the oven died, and the central heating gave up in sympathy. The garden, meanwhile, limped along until it, too, fell onto its horticultural derriere, and a brutal winter and sodden summer finished off the rest. The idea of ‘Howard’s End’ had turned into World’s End. We were at our wit’s end.

Then Mother Nature intervened. Spring came and the magnolias and rhododendrons burst into life. Our 100-year-old rhodies erupted into the prettiest shade of Pompadour pink, while the camellias bloomed into flowers Chanel would have been proud of. Motivated, we tugged on our gumboots and went to work. My idea, rather ambitiously, was to design a ‘creative retreat’, filled with books, photos and mementos of our travels; a house for those, like us and our friends, who love to garden, read, write, create or simply contemplate life over a glass with a lot of gin in it. Having long been drawn to the work of Cecil Beaton, Fréderic Méchiche, Kelly Wearstler, Windsor Smith, Mary McDonald and Jane Coslick–people who mixed cheeky irreverence with sublime design–I imagined a space full of whimsy, personality and delightful surprises. We knew we had a long way to go.

A year on, we are still working on our endearing old house, and have come to love it, despite the ghosts (two), the faulty electrical system, the endless To-Do list, and the horrendous weeds. (A result of the high rainfall.) We have converted the garden to a Writer's Garden, with beds shaped like exclamation marks and full stops, and renovated the interior with a pitifully meagre budget. Thanks to our lovely Afghanistan tradies, who not only painted a two-story house for $2000 but regaled me with tales of their home country, the place is looking a treat! It's certainly come a long way from the days when I couldn't even grow a hydrangea.

Winston Churchill once said that we shape our buildings and then they shape us, and I think the same could be said of our homes and gardens. We try to create our homes and gardens by giving them form, depth, dignity and character, but in the end, I think it’s our homes and gardens that give those things to us.