A room full of red

Part One

I can't pinpoint the moment when I first wanted a red room; one morning I just woke up and knew I had to have a little red sitting room. After years of obsessing over red interiors designed by Mario Buatta and Mark Hampton and Diana Phipps, I finally had an apartment with the perfect space to experiment. It was a tiny bedroom with a window in one corner, doors in two other corners and a long jog in one wall; meaning there was only one wall without a break in it. I painted the room "Cranapple," using a local brand of paint (Klein-Dickert), but I have little memory of how long it took or how much paint was needed. 

    

 

The trim was all dark stained wood, as was the floor. I did the ceiling white and hung white chintz curtains, with an over-scaled pattern of red and cream Amaryllis flowers and bold green leaves, on the window and in place of the door to the closet. I added my china cabinet, a rocking chair and my grandmother's desk to the space. The end result was everything I'd imagined: cosy, sophisticated, with a hint of Brit and unlike anything I'd seen locally. When I met Mark, he offered to build a three-tiered bookcase (painted black) to fit into the long wall jog. That was the finishing touch which gave the room the feel of a library.

    

 

I still have the bookcase, the desk, the china cabinet — and they all reside in my current red roomm (all photos). Mark painted this one and he will tell you that red paint is very transparent and it takes many coats to cover white walls; four coats in this case. The wall paint was "Lipstick," by another local company, Hallman-Lindsey. I decided white trim would demand a lot of white elsewhere in the room, and I'd already done that in the first red room. This time I opted for "Hanging Moss," a dark olive green for the trim. Since red and green are complementary colors — opposites on the color wheel — they subdue each other.

    

 

This room would be a red cocoon, with little daylight to bleed its color away. I added a pair of solid red glazed-chintz curtains and hung them from French swing-arm curtain rods. Alas, I did not plan for the finials at the ends of the brass rods — which meant my curtains had a gap that let sunlight stream through, diluting the color and posing a threat to the watercolor paintings I planned to hang in the room. I solved this little decorating dilemma by adding green chintz ruffles to the curtain edges. They were actually triangles, rather than scallops, and cut with pinking shears to increase the fun factor. They looked like interlocking green teeth when the curtains were closed. 

    

 

The room is my de-facto ancestor shrine. It contains my maternal grandfather's smoking chair and the un-matched footstool he always used with it. I had the chair re-upholstered in Ralph Lauren's "Brant Point Floral" by local legend, Matthew Nafranowicz of The Straight Thread. Next to it is my grandmother's desk with her brass Art Nouveau desk set as well as a brass lamp with peach-colored china shade that belonged to her. On the walls are four oil paintings done by her father (my great-grandfather) and three pieces done by my youngest sister. The china cabinet holds china and silver that belonged to my mother and her mother as well as gifts from my friends and siblings. Not surprisingly, the room also contains a carved wood "spirit house," which is late Qing dynasty (1644-1911), from Fujian Province in China. 

    

 

To give you a sense of scale, this Chinese "spirit house" is 32" wide x 30" high x 12 " deep.

Of course, I had to create a stack of books with red covers including three of my mother's high school texts by Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, complete with gilded titles on the spines. They're resting on a 19th-century English gate-leg table — whose legs are lovely barley twists. The gold mirror in the fourth photo is also 19th-century English. Both pieces are from my serious Anglophile period. The antique ivory necklace (below) — one of a number of requisite touches of Chinoiserie that all Anglophiles require — also came from the same Madison shop as the gate-leg table and mirror. 

    

 

The red room is a repository of all my loves: antiques, art, books, china and silver, family treasures, gold frames, lamps, stacks of hats in their boxes and unusual textiles. If you don't have a room whose color is a celebration and a refuge, now may be the time to create one. The picture below shows the red room immediately after we moved in. You can see some of my hatboxes and my grandfather's chair before it was re-upholstered. But mostly what you see is a sad space. Finding this old picture is proof positive that red is a transformative color: warming, welcoming and lusciously liveable.   

Comments

[Les]

That is quite the transformation. I love the fact that many of your treasures have a history with you, which is something that can not be bought at IKEA or Ethan Allen.

[Erin]

I can't believe that is the same room as that sad white box in the last picture. I love it and who could resist a color called Lipstick?

What a wonderful tour through a special room, but I have to say I'm particularly taken with the spirit house. What a treasure.

Red is my favorite color (as it should be for any good Badger) but I would probably be concerned about doing an entire room in it. Seeing these results proves to me that red should be one of those go all the way or go home kind of things. Forget red accent walls ... red rooms are where it's at.

Great post!

[Edith Hope]

I came across your site quite by chance and was much intrigued with your account of the making of your red room [shades of Jane Eyre!].

Whilst I do not actually have red walls, in my main hall and again in my dining room of my Budapest apartment I do use quite a bit of red - upholstery, mounts to pictures, cushions, etc. I do not know if you know of 'Farrow and Ball' paints? They are an English company with what I consider to be a superb range of flat, chalky colours, all water based and eco friendly. Worth a Google!

I have enjoyed your writing very much and will look forward to returning.

[Lisa at Greenbow]

This is definitely a room one can appreciate the warmth, especially during winter. You have the most interesting things and you display them so people can appreciate them.

[Gail]

Linda, It's a wonderful room...restful. I never associate red with rest...but it works here...I think the olive green woodwork is what makes it so. The spirit house is beautiful and what a delightful way to honor nature. gail

[Deborah at Kilbourne Grove]

Linda, once again, I think that we are twins, seperated at birth.
I just did a post (Jan) on my red room, our library. I used a Farrow and Ball colour, Mercer Street Red. It does take quite a few coats of paint to get the depth of colour, but we were given a tip to prime with gray first, it helps the colour spread evenly. I have had a red principal room in all of my homes. People always think that it is daring, but I love it!

[Dirty Girl Gardening]

I love it! What a transformation.

[Blorgie1]

Linda - the red room treasures remind me of how many treasures you have shared through your blog. Your tea house, the parasol garden, the SNOW, the apple arch borders. So lovely to read about it. The snow stories kept me cool during the hot Melbourne summer although I guess you're longing for spring now. The red room is a jewel and I'd love to pull down books from your shelves and tinker with the spirit house.
Carolyn

[Rae Kaiser]

Thanks for sharing your special room. A red room takes some skill to pull off. I love the green stool...and all your treasures. What a comfort that room must be.
Rae