SISTER PARISH DESIGN OUR ROOMS W hen I was in college in New York I had the luxury and good fortune of visiting many spectacular houses with my grandmother Sister Parish when she called on her friends on the weekend. Sunday lunch was a popular time to entertain with her generation, and it is a shame this tradition has gone out of style in our busy lives. Dedicating a block of time to a Sunday lunch means you are really dedicating the entire day to leisure, as a big component of the Sunday lunch is a cocktail before lunch and wine during the meal, rendering you hopeless for whatever afternoon activities you had previously scheduled. Many of the houses I visited with Sister were unforgettable. Brooke Astor''s house in Briarcliff, New York, stands out as the scene of colorful verbal skirmishes between Mrs. Astor and Sister, both very competitive women. It was also the most representative of a way of life we don''t see anymore. All of the big houses in the country had pea stone driveways so the sound of cars on gravel was the first impression, followed by the smell of lovely pots of flowers surrounding the front door or wood smoke from the fire within, depending on the season.
The door at Mrs. Astor''s beautiful Georgian house would be opened by the familiar major domo of the house, whom my grandmother knew well as she visited often. Sister would always call out "hoo hoo," and the response from far away would be "we are in here," meaning in the beautiful large living room or a smaller cozy library that was almost a sun room. Usually a fire would be crackling and drinks offered up--sherry or something light. I remember the feeling of being frozen in time as we sipped our drinks and looked out at the beautiful gardens, chatted about the news of the day, and then went into the dining room for a traditional meal with lots of spirited conversation. Finally, completely satiated, there would be coffee back in the library or living room. Obviously the house''s settings were amazing as Sister and Mrs. Astor had collaborated on its beautiful rooms, but more important, in that grand Georgian house one was made to feel comfortable and welcome.
If we sat in the large living room, there were master paintings scattered about, but you never felt intimidated or overwhelmed. Seating arrangements were cozy and the upholstered furniture wonderfully comfortable. We had similar lunches at the Whitneys'' house on Long Island, a rambling Dutch Colonial revival, which embodied a grand, yet livable country house, or her childhood friends'' houses in New Jersey, typically smaller clapboard farmhouses filled with odd family heirlooms and bursting with color and charm. No matter the era of the house, the recipe was the same: extremely comfortable living rooms or libraries with brightly colored chintz and a mix of assorted eclectic family paintings and objects, delicious three-course meals that began with piping hot soups and finished with old-fashioned cakes and custards, and throughout, attention to the moment--no rushing to finish and get going. I don''t think I ever saw anyone from that generation rush. It must have been considered very bad manners. The rooms that we visited in these great houses were well worn and well lived in. You had the impression that countless parties, family meals, or just plain hours of reading the Sunday paper had taken place in these rooms.
That is what good decorating is--the transformation of a house to be aesthetically beautiful as well as useful for the family that lives there. Comfort and lack of intimidation were the foundation these houses were built on. It was not unusual to see a typically tattered dog bed underneath an old master painting. The rooms were designed to be used and they were, to their fullest. Billy Baldwin was a great proponent of urging his clients to live in their living rooms and he paid homage to Sister''s living room in his discussion, "How to live in a living room," from the book Billy Baldwin Decorates , which includes some effective pointers: When it comes to color think warm. Deep vibrant colors like brown, red, or burnt orange make a room intimate without reducing its size. I like to see furniture covered with chintz in a traditional room or with a wonderful contemporary pattern in a more modern room. I love to seeobjects around--not a clutter, but enough so everyone knows these rooms belong to someone--things happen here.
One of the nicest living rooms in New York belonged to one of my colleagues, Mrs. Henry Parish II, who knows just how to live in a living room. The walls were dark brown. The curtains were the color of coral and there was wonderful English garden chintz on all of the big overstuffed chairs and sofas. She had arranged the furniture in three groups--one of them around the fire. Here was where she sat every day to have a cup of tea and read the mail. Here was where the family gathered drawn by the firelight on chilly afternoons. The room was equally beautiful when filled with people or when you were alone there.
That is what I call a room that''s lived in. -- SUSAN BARTLETT CRATER LIVING ROOMS Madame used to say, "We are not decorating--we are making places to live." WILLIAM HODGINS LIBBY CAMERON When we started with projects at Parish-Hadley, there was never a moment given to the possibility that any one of the rooms would not be used and loved and lived in. Each room was as important as the next although the purpose may have been different. And as I learned well, each room has to connect to the others, not in terms of the colors used, but in its aesthetic; each room needs to be its own while simultaneously being part of a whole. I remember Mrs. Parish talking about rooms and colors swearing at each other, and the importance of a thread that tied all of the rooms together. Comfort is an element that connects rooms and is what Parish-Hadley was known for.
A room was never designed without thought given to how it would be used and what was important, how the light fell and how many people lived there, how the lamps or lighting in the room would draw you in and enable you to read. Living rooms were never planned with just one place to sit and often had three or more seating areas, and were cozy enough so that one or many people could be comfortable. Parish-Hadley was a wonderful school for so many. Ingrained in us all was the importance of imaginative warm rooms that had to be friendly, comfortable, and timeless. MITCHELL OWENS What I think the "graduates" of Parish-Hadley have in common is a certain respect for history without being slavish, a breadth of vision that reveres quality over specific periods or styles, and an understanding of real comfort, no matter how formal the client''s lifestyle. I don''t think I''ve ever been in a room executed by a Parish-Hadley alum that isn''t eminently livable. The rooms themselves may not be my cup of tea, per se, in terms oflooks, but the comfort level is pretty much steady across the board, don''t you think? There''s inherent practicality, too, an attention to the sorts of amenities that many designers of otherwise striking rooms often forget. (There is a world of difference between a room styled to be beautiful and a room that is actually decorated for living.
) I once spent an evening at a star designer''s apartment, and though the sitting room was spectacularly outfitted, I had to clutch my glass all evening--there was no place to set a drink down! That sort of foolishness would never occur in a room with a Parish-Hadley bloodline. At least, I hope not. MARIO BUATTA The thing about English houses that is so great is that they are always played down with chintz and sisal carpeting. Sister did the same thing. She did not like a room that was only filled with "important furniture." JANE CHURCHILL Obviously I come from a family of decorators, being Nancy Lancaster''s niece; Nancy''s sister, my grandmother Alice Winn, never worked as a decorator, but she had fantastically good taste and always did it much more on a shoestring. She could turn a hovel into something. I remember the house she had at Sandwich--a really nasty, suburban-looking brick house.
By the time she added lattice balconies to it, painted it a different color, and planted a garden in front of it, it was drop-dead gorgeous. But she always did it in a much cheaper way than Aunt Nancy, not that money with Aunt Nancy was key. I will always remember she had something red in every room. They both had an eye for things that some people didn''t seem to see. I think you are born with an eye or you''re not. Nancy Lancaster and Alice Winn had incredibly wonderful, comfortable houses with bathrooms that always looked like other people''s drawing rooms and my grandmother always had very, very good food. They were American. We were brought up with American backgrounds, not just a British background.
In those days comfort was more unique. My cousin Lady Wissie Ancaster had wonderful taste, but that also came because she had the whole line of Aunt Nancy, Granny, and the whole lot in her. They didn''t just make homes, they made wonderful homes. They were never pretentious.Nothing was ever pretentious. Dogs were everywhere, pee stains on the edge of the curtains. Not that it was ever dirty, but they were absolutely lacking in any form of pretention. They were such personalities themselves.
The women had such energy. Nancy Lancaster was funny and amusing and she treated everyone the same, from a duke to the dustman, and they all adored her. She was really happy in her garden with all the gar.