At Sloane
François-Joseph Graf
“The hospitality industry en masse tends towards the globalisation of style and spirit; major groups design luxurious hotels, however dull, where the atmosphere of the place is in no way enhanced. Sometimes, wherever we are, from Toronto to Seoul or NYC to Dubai, interiors all look alike and lack any true identity. For my first hotel in London, [… At Sloane], I intended to replicate the artistic breakthrough at the turn of the century, the last half of the Victorian era, when the British Empire ruled over the world” — François-Joseph Graf
In the world of interiors, despite a panoply of “superstar” decorators, François-Joseph Graf is somewhat revered for his unique outlook, which, whilst rooted in historicism, fully embraces contemporary attitudes to living. In a similar vein to Georges Geffroy (1903-1971), Henri Samuel (1904-1996) and Renzo Mongiardino (1916-1998), the French architect, designer and decorator creates extraordinary, Gesamtkunstwerk interiors; an elegant amalgam of old-world charm, carefully conceived volumes and noble materials that, perhaps somewhat paradoxically, feel at once sumptuous and understated. Graf’s approach is led by a straightforward, and unencumbered philosophy — a love of history, an appreciation of beauty and a profound respect for the architecture of a space. Despite such a singular aesthetic vision, his work is very much context-specific, and as such, each and every project is entirely different, a reflection not only of its surroundings but also of a client’s interests, collecting habits and foibles. “Balancing the client’s dream with the architectural possibilities of the house is an exhilarating but complex challenge,” Graf explains. “Yet the guiding principle is always the same: to respect the original features and enhance them so they can be brought into the twenty-first century.” Having spent his formative years at the Palace of Versailles, working closely with the museum’s head curator, Graf launched his eponymous agency in 1985 — since completing a string of high-profile projects for a cabal of culturally sensitive collectors who appreciate his distinct, unerring vision, those such as David de Rothschild (b. 1978), Henry Kravis (b. 1944) and Valentino Garavani (b. 1942). This might sometimes result in a lifelong working relationship, as, for example, with a couple introduced to him through a mutual friend, Yves Lambelin (b. 1942-2011); after working on their properties in Saint-Tropez and Paris, he turned his attention to their summer house, a late nineteenth-century villa on the shore of Lake Geneva. It was only after several years of collaboration that they agreed to extend, modifying the facades and restructuring the interiors so as to “recreate the atmosphere it would have once had”.
Ensconced within the red brick walls of a handsome nineteenth-century mansion in London’s leafy Chelsea, … At Sloane was born out of a partnership between legendary Parisian hotelier Jean-Louis Costes (b. 1950) and the Cadogan dynasty. In designing its interiors, Graf took a similarly punctilious approach to that of his residential work — collaborating with some of the finest French craftsmen so as to conjure an immediate sense of history and atmosphere. Atelier Mériguet-Carrère, for instance, carried out the decoration, fabrics were woven by Le Manach to Graf’s designs, and Maleville oversaw the hotel’s extraordinary leaded glass windows. The resulting interiors are an elegant fusion of British heritage and Parisian joie de vivre, where the intimate basement bar, like that of its Rive Droite forebear, is the ideal place for a pre-prandial aperitif or late-night digestif. The guest rooms, as one might expect, are a tour de force, each individually designed, with the intimacy of a private boudoir, sumptuously outfitted with antique furnishings, period wallpapers and plush, velvet upholstered sofas. One of the most spectacular rooms is undoubtedly the sixth-floor, all-day restaurant, a take on the Anglo-Japanese Harmony in Blue and Gold: The Peacock Room (1876-77); a masterpiece of late nineteenth-century art and design created by American painter James McNeill Whistler (1834-1903) (best known for his stark, chromatic Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1 (1871), known colloquially as Whistler’s Mother, a somewhat dour portrait of a woman said to have been censorious toward her libertine son) and prominent architect and designer Thomas Jeckyll (1827-1881) for British shipping magnate Frederick Richards Leyland (1831-1892). A fascinating, if not somewhat bizarre story, Jeckyll’s remarkable panelled dining room was conceived as a Porzellanzimmer (porcelain room), for which he designed an intricate latticework of engraved, spindled walnut shelves — in a style that was notionally Oriental — so as to display Leyland’s vast collection of Kangxi blue-and-white porcelain.
The “Peacock Room”, showing James McNeill Whistler’s decorative scheme, which extended to the shutters, showing Photograph courtesy Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art (Washington, DC)
The “Peacock Room”, a close up architect Thomas Jeckyll’s extraordinary engraved and spindled walnut shelves, Photograph courtesy Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art (Washington, DC)
At the time, amongst fashionable society, there was a mania for all things Asian that ran in tandem with the Aesthetic movement, an expression of unalloyed beauty, which was, in essence, a reaction to the moralistic constraints of staid, bourgeois Victorian taste. The walls were hung with a Cuir de Cordoue that had been originally brought to England as part of the dowry of Catherine of Aragon (1485-1536) — each panel painted with her heraldic device, the open pomegranate, and a series of red Tudor roses, to symbolize her union with Henry VIII (1491-1547). Opposite three tall windows, stood a fireplace, the room’s focal point, over which hung Whistler’s early painting of noted Victorian beauty Christina Spartali (later Countess Edouard Cahn d’Anvers) (1845-1884), decked out in a Japanese Kimono, worn in the Western style, as The Princess from the Land of Porcelain (1864-65). The scheme was near completion when Jeckyll, overwhelmed by a sudden and all-consuming illness, was, much to his chagrin, forced to abandon the project. Whistler, who was then working on decorations of Leyland’s entrance hall, volunteered himself to finish the job. Concerned the red roses adorning the leather wall hangings clashed with the colours in The Princess, he suggested retouching the leather with yellow paint, a somewhat shocking alteration to which Leyland nevertheless agreed. Before decamping to Liverpool to recuperate, Leyland was cajoled into a number of further alterations, including the embellishment of the cornice and wainscoting with a “wave pattern” derived from the design in Jeckyll’s leaded-glass door. It might perhaps come as little surprise that the expatriate painter — with a credo of “art for art’s sake” — entirely ignored the brief, and, during Layland’s prolonged absence, went off on a frolic of his own. “Well, you know, I just painted on. I went on — without design or sketch — it grew as I painted,” Whistler enthused. “And toward the end, I reached such a point of perfection — putting in every touch with such freedom — that when I came round to the corner where I started, why, I had to paint part of it over again, as the difference would have been too marked. And the harmony in blue and gold developing, you know, I forgot everything in my joy in it.” Whereas Jeckyll, in terms of atmosphere, envisaged a sun-dappled Chinese pavilion, like Yin and Yang, Whistler contrived a dark and ethereal temple to the night. Though the architect’s lattice shelves and neo-Jacobean ceiling remained, Whistler covered almost every surface — including the sixteenth-century wall coverings — in Prussian blue paint, resonant copper-green glaze and overlapping panels of Dutch metal, so as to emulate gold leaf; Peacocks were painted on the shutters, and every incidental surface, even the ceiling was consumed by the design.
A detail of the entrance hall at … At Sloane, designed by François-Joseph Graf, with its original W.A.S. Benson lights, photograph by Will Pryce
The library at … At Sloane, housed within a nineteenth-century mansion, its interiors a homage to “the last half of the Victorian era, when the British Empire ruled over the world”, photograph by Will Pryce
Ahead of its time, the whole ensemble anticipated the floridity and unbridled exuberance of the Art Nouveau movement, but with an avant-garde spirit, where nothing is fussy or fastidious, apart from, perhaps, certain features of Jeckyll’s meticulously orchestrated carpentry. In a letter to Leyland, Whistler promised “a gorgeous surprise”, and it certainly was that; for on his return, the tycoon was so shocked by the artist’s “improvements” that their relationship was, somewhat acrimoniously, terminated with immediate effect. During the course of the ensuing fracas, Whistler reportedly said to Leyland, “I have made you famous. My work will live when you are forgotten. Still, perchance, in the dim ages to come you will be remembered as the proprietor of the Peacock Room”. Outraged, the disgruntled shipping magnate refused to pay Whistler’s full fee of 2,000 guineas (the equivalent of around two hundred thousand pounds in today’s money), and the artist, in a fit of pique, broke into Leyland’s house and on the wall opposite The Princess, painted a satirical mural titled Art and Money: or The Story of the Room, representing the artist and his patron as warring peacocks. Leyland’s bird, pompous and swaggering, stands atop a pile of gold coins, wings spinning furiously, an explosion of tail feathers; Whistler’s bird, meanwhile, timid and trembling, raises a single wing in poignant self-defence. Curiously, the caricature remained — on a wall destined for the artist’s “The Three Girls”, a painting commissioned by Leyland, but never completed (of which only preliminary drawings remain) — and whilst charming, as an expression of pent-up frustration, its presence does somewhat disturb the room’s serenity, like a fox screaming in the darkness. If that weren’t enough, in one final grotesque twist, Jeckyll, so shocked upon seeing the desecration of his magnum opus, was quite literally driven to insanity; returning home he was found on the floor of his studio, covered in gold leaf, and, failing to make a recovery, died in an asylum, three years later. Somewhat judiciously, and so as to avoid pastiche, for the dining room at … At Sloane, Graf deviates from Whistler’s nocturnal colour scheme, reproducing Jeckyll’s elegant, incised shelving in more muted tones. Throughout the enfilade of three gracefully proportioned rooms, each overlooking Chelsea’s red-tiled rooftops, are displayed in succession, a meticulously curated collection of first black, then red and ivory porcelain vases, each one hand chosen by Graf on visits to Singapore. … At Sloane is a truly welcome addition to London’s vibrant hospitality scene, and upon entering the burnt-brick hues of the hotel’s Neo-Greek lobby, with its Loro Piana curtains and intricately tiled mosaic floor, one quickly loses all sense of the outside world, entering a richly layered mise-en-scène, a throwback to a golden age of luxury, when quality and design trumped fads, fashions and value-engineering. Beguiled by its inherent charm, I met François-Joseph Graf for a tour, after which, we discussed his influences and inspirations, the decorators he most admires, and more pressing concerns, such as where to get the best steak tartare and frog legs in Paris. [“One Sloane” has recently been rebranded “… At Sloane”]
The intimate basement bar at … At Sloane, like that of its Rive Droite forebear, is the ideal place for a pre-prandial aperitif or late-night digestif, photograph by Will Pryce
One of the extraordinary bathrooms at … At Sloane, with a palette of off-white panelling, chrome-framed mirrors and mosaic floors, photograph by Will Pryce
You’ve said your design philosophy is informed by a love of history, an appreciation of beauty and a profound respect for the architecture of a space; but how does that manifest itself in terms of the way in which you work with clients, and does there need to be a mutual simpatico in order for the relationship to work?
Since I spend many years with my clients, it requires complicity and an “artistic love story”.
Prior to launching your agency in 1985, you studied at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts and the Ecole du Louvre before taking a position at the Palace of Versailles, where you worked closely with the museum’s head curator Jean Dumont; having been immersed in the realm of French luxury and savoir-faire from an early age, do you think it impacted your expectations as regards quality and craftsmanship?
I was truly lucky when I was Assistant Architect to the Palace of Versailles. I was surrounded by the very greatest examples of architecture and it provided me with the best opportunity to improve an important skill — to learn how to look. To look at every detail, proportion, line, and design, enjoying volume differences between room heights, anything from small private rooms dedicated to the Queen — where the height doesn’t exceed two metres twenty, to eleven-metre high staterooms. Versailles is the perfect result of French classical architecture: combining ancient Greek and Roman art with that of the Renaissance. It was right before my eyes! The extreme virtuosity of craftsmanship and the outstanding quality of the works of art helped me understand how meticulousness was important in such a career.
… At Sloane is located in what was a private mansion block, built in 1889 by Edwin Thomas Hall, architect of the Liberty department store and the Old Library at Dulwich College. As such, you conceived a decor sensitive to the period, with the aim of recreating the sort of atmosphere one might expect of a stately Victorian townhouse. Is it an aesthetic to which you naturally gravitate, or was it a wholly site-specific response?
The hospitality industry en masse tends towards the globalisation of style and spirit; major groups design luxurious hotels, however dull, where the atmosphere of the place is in no way enhanced. Sometimes, wherever we are, from Toronto to Seoul or New York to Dubai, interiors all look alike and lack any true identity. For … At Sloane, my first hotel in London, I intended to replicate the artistic breakthrough at the turn of the century, the last half of the Victorian era, when the British Empire ruled over the world; from Godwin’s first furniture in 1867 to the beginning of the First World War, which reached its artistic peak with the development of Arts and Crafts and Liberty styles.
Sloane Gardens is a typical Victorian street, and it was, therefore, appropriate to align the interior of the hotel with its facade. We redesigned the entirety of the volumes and added an additional sixth floor with a belvedere. Prior to demolition work, every decorative element had been registered, designed, and cast — such as cornices, woodwork etc — so as to provide a genuine restoration. The remaining architectural details, such as ceilings, joinery, and ceramic stoneware flooring etc., were inspired by English interiors at the time; and as such, the project as a whole was designed specifically for an imagined Victorian mansion house.
You draw absolutely everything by hand, and in the case of … At Sloane, that included an extraordinary array of decorative details from the fretwork screens in the bar, inspired by visits to the Victoria and Albert Museum, to the fabrics for the upholstery. With such an exacting, punctilious approach, have you ever found a project overwhelming?
We designed each and every element; sixty-nine fabrics, twenty-one carpets, a dozen floor tile patterns — for the restaurant, bar, bathroom and lobby — as well as the joinery and ceiling architecture — focusing on what we considered a priority, the lighting. A magnificent collection of about twenty W.A.S. Benson lights were installed including outstanding works of art from Oscar Graf gallery. For some of the seven hundred fittings, we consulted with [heritage lighting expert] Jeremy Quantrill [of Verdome] and had some incredible copies created by an English company — the structures, in plain brass, made in India near Bangalore and the glass in Ukraine. The results exceeded our expectations. In addition, more than eighty seats and pieces of old furniture including some designed by E.W. Godwin, purchased at Paul Reeves, a famous English specialist dealer in arts and crafts and applied and decorative arts, have been restored and placed in rooms and common areas of the mansion. Some elements helped us as models for missing copies. Despite the requirement of such an intricate project, I never felt overwhelmed, I felt grateful. The inherent complexity of such a project is a great motivation to reach for the stars!
For a previous project on Lake Geneva, the dining room was informed by Japonisme; the French interpretation of Japanese aesthetics that was hugely popular in the 1870s and 80s. For … At Sloane, the restaurant was inspired by the Peacock Room — now on display at the Freer Gallery in Washington, DC, and one of the finest surviving examples of the Anglo-Japanese style. France obviously has a history of embracing Oriental art, with the eighteenth-century marchands- merciers selling porcelain and lacquer panels to the European market. But what is it about such interiors that you find so captivating?
In the 1730s, England and France were inspired by Chinese works of art. Exoticism was already popular. The East India Company expanded and porcelains, lacquers and silk were coveted by the most compelling collectors. When I visited the Smithsonian Museum to look at the Peacock Room’s panelling, I was stunned by its personality and wanted to recreate it — showcasing a collection of black, red and ivory porcelain vases, in keeping with the spirit of the time, rather than the expected blue-and-white.
On that note, you hand-selected some six hundred monochrome vases. The majority of designers would outsource such a gargantuan task, assuming very few guests would notice the aesthetic of each and every item of objet d’art. Why are such details so important to you, and, whilst clearly ascribing to the idiom “the devil is in the details”, do you consider each and every element as important as the next?
The devil is indeed in the details, but you must custom with him. A thousand small details make a whole. To quote Leonardo da Vinci: “While perfection is in the details, it is not just a detail itself ”.
In the UK there’s a reverence for the past that can sometimes seem stifling apropos working with listed buildings; as can be seen with the hostile media reception to Francis Sultana’s recent redevelopment of Odiham Hunting Lodge. Your primary approach is to “respect original features, enhancing them so they can be brought into the twenty-first century”. But where do you think the balance lies in terms of preservation, and designing interiors relevant to the time in which we live?
I would enjoy creating a contemporary hotel, a witness of its time; with a new architecture and different proportions — reflecting our present-day lifestyle. However, it’s not today’s debate. I could not brush aside the mansion’s architecture and the street’s atmosphere as inspiration for the interiors.
Nineteenth-century interiors and architecture haven’t been in Vogue, as it were, with the only young designer I can think of who fully embraces the era being Victor Bonnivard. Yet, for … At Sloane, the overall theme was inspired by the British Empire at the turn of the century. The design world, increasingly, seems to centre around “trends”, especially with the popularity of social media such as Instagram and Pinterest, with the result that the majority of published interiors seem somewhat homogenous and lacking any discernible character. Do you think the industry, en masse, would benefit from a greater degree of individuality, as regards decorators having the confidence to create interiors that are perhaps a little more unexpected?
Actual decoration created by young interior designers is all very much alike, inspired by a revival of the 1960s and 70s and its trendy banality. In some Parisian or London fairs, even though there are about forty stands, it feels like there is only one exhibitor. As for me, my projects are never trendy, but will never go out of style. Inaugurations with great fanfare of bars, restaurants and hotels are like fireworks, all noise and flash but gone in an instant. I truly hope … At Sloane and its ambition will be highly regarded, as a vision of timeless elegance and of an idealised England.
You’ve talked of luxury hotels, for example, the Peninsula, and how they lack context, vis-à-vis their architecture and interiors baring absolutely no relation to their geographical location and surroundings, with the result that they could, in effect, be anywhere in the world. Why do you think this is, and why is it problematic in terms of design?
Communication governs the world today and rules over fashion which brings a new dimension to the cultural expression of the moment. To answer such a question, two programmes can be thought through: either the creation of an architecture downright modern, a programme I have in mind for my future hotel, or the commitment to respect the architecture of a certain period and bring it up at its best. I was aligned with the second programme in renovating … At Sloane.
An intimate corner of the sixth-floor restaurant at … At Sloane, inspired by the nineteenth-century Anglo-Japanese Peacock Room, photograph by Will Pryce
One of the wood-panelled dressing rooms at … At Sloane, a mirror reflecting the muted palette of the bedroom beyond, photograph by Will Pryce
At Sloane has a uniquely English aesthetic, yet you employed largely French makers, such as Atelier Mériguet-Carrère, Maleville, Le Manach and Phelippeau; despite having such a strong history as concerns architecture and design, do you think the UK still embraces craftsmanship to the same extent as its Gallic neighbour?
Since the seventeenth century, even if some Italian architects stimulated creation, England produced its own typical and innovative architecture. Unique English windows, ceilings adorned with plaster ornaments, and woodwork inspired by the Middle Ages, with its characteristic medieval mouldings. English craftsmanship reached its peak at the turn of the twentieth century. Stained glass, floor tiles, plasters, woodwork and fabric designs were perfectly executed. I didn’t have the opportunity to meet the English craftsmen who undertook renovation work at Chatsworth House and Blenheim Palace, regarding the finer details of the projects. It was more convenient to collaborate with French teams I’ve been accustomed to working with for many years, who are in charge of important projects such as the Palace of Versailles, the Paris Opera and the Louvre.
Similarly, whereas other luxury hotels, such as Claridge’s are jettisoning antiques, … At Sloane seems somewhat unique in the number of original works used in its interiors. What impact do you think pieces such as Benson light fittings and Goodwin furniture, have on the overall atmosphere?
It’s extremely unfortunate that the public toilets in the basement of the legendary Claridge’s Hotel were destroyed since the architectural design was perfect. I therefore wanted to pay a proper tribute to this unfortunate loss [with the design for bathrooms At … At Sloane]. It’s always more charming and challenging when a decor is restored or redesigned in accordance with a given period, and coupled with furniture and lighting of the era. The incredible collection purchased for and displayed at … At Sloane is a real asset — the proportion of Goodwin’s original furniture, or copies, especially the lighting, softened through opalescent glass, was essential to creating the correct atmosphere, so as to enjoy wandering through such a mansion.
A good many hotels rely on somewhat clichéd, “Instagrammable” spaces, in terms of commissioning interiors that embrace every current stylistic trend, the result often feeling disjointed, especially when considered in the context of the hotel as an overall whole. … At Sloane is entirely harmonious with regard to the overall style, yet at the same time, there’s still contrast. Is it important to you, whether it be a private or public commission, that there’s a strong, coherent aesthetic?
Certain places and hotels have indeed undergone too many noticeable aesthetic surgeries. Some of the great palaces of the Côte d’Azur experienced such changes, and as such, have entirely lost their identities. Aesthetic consistency is crucial. The organisation should be harmonious — flowing seamlessly from room to room.
At … At Sloane, the additional sixth floor was decorated with stained glass windows so as to ensure the restaurant benefits from direct sunlight and open sky with French doors opening onto the terrace; that’s in contrast to the basement bar, with dim light, which I see as a room for nocturnal activities.
Talking about the interiors at … At Sloane, you’ve made reference to the concept of quiet luxury, something which, following television shows such as Succession has become a talked about topic in the fashion world. How does it translate into interiors, and do you think that imbuing a space with an aesthetic that, in essence, speaks of wealth and privilege, impacts a guest’s perception and perhaps even their behaviour?
Luxury is a matter of quality, which can be discreet, even feeble, notwithstanding interesting. The atmosphere brought into being by decoration has a strong impact on how visitors behave. We tend to whisper in a church, and we talk softly at … At Sloane — we are the guests of Cadogan Estate and should act as such.
The idea of “luxury” is often thought of in very basic terms, for example, standardised, marble-clad bathrooms, where the use of natural stone has no other purpose than as a signifier of wealth. At … At Sloane you made a deliberate choice to separate yourself from this approach, opting for a palette of off-white panelling, chrome-framed mirrors and mosaic floors. Why was that, and do you think such staid notions of “luxury” negatively impact the world of interior design?
Perhaps [there are certain contemporary designers who] don’t know how to do any better, are not familiar with architectural design or do not have the personal curiosity which would encourage them to take this step. Craftsmanship is essential — it’s easier to design a marble bathroom from floor to ceiling with large panels, but at … At Sloane a contemporary creation or adaptation of something from the 1930s or 40s didn’t interest me. Designing a patchwork of symmetrical and centred tiles, and corresponding joinery — an idealised English bathroom, of the sort seen across the length and breadth of the Empire from Singapore and Mumbai to Hong Kong, thereby raising the curiosity of our client, was a much better challenge. It was actually more restrictive, time-consuming and complex to redesign the totality of a Victorian mansion retrospectively rather than choosing to have another look and style — ending up with waxed concrete floors and suspended lacquered ceilings with spotlights..!
As a self-confessed “hotel junkie”, having stayed at every property in the Aman collection, and in London frequenting the Connaught —which at one stage required a referral from an existing guest; what do you consider the single biggest mistake hoteliers make as regards the overall experience?
Maybe a lack of awareness with a lack of respect for the place — layers of plain modern design with no singularity. Many mistakes could have been avoided at the Connaught — the poor gilding of the grand staircase is truly useless, the dull lighting of the ground floor, and the restaurant has now entirely lost its charm. Not to mention the “French celebrity” who intervened on the coloured stained glass which came totally out of left field. Yet the hotel remains a mythic figure worldwide, thanks to its location, service, quality and unique charm
You’ve completed numerous high-profile interiors for clients including Yves Lambelin, Henry Kravis, Valentino, and of course, Pierre Bergé and David de Rothschild, a true expression of le grand gout francais; but which project would you say, to date, you’ve found the most satisfying, whether it pertains to process or the end result?
Our interior design projects resemble fashion design. For this reason, we enjoy what we are currently working on. I sometimes go back to the crime scene — visiting apartments I designed thirty years ago. I’m as harsh in criticism regarding my own work as that of my colleagues. Decades later, I see things that could have been made a different way or that time has left certain elements unscathed.
There are many great decorators and collectors, but who do you admire, personally, in respect of their innate style and approach?
I was truly impressed by Renzo Mongiardino’s work at the Hôtel Lambert on the Île Saint-Louis — to mingle a Rothschild style, composed of luxurious, precious and private decoration with strong Louis XIV architecture. The design is perfect, combining iconic furniture, important objects, and famous paintings, he created a true masterpiece. I’ve always enjoyed eclecticism regarding the organisation of spaces. Jacques Grange, during the 1980s, managed wonderfully to combine furniture by Jean-Henri Riesner with that of Josef Hoffmann, and Gustave Serrurier Bovy with Jacques-Émile Rhulmann. The way he created a refined and intact taste by juxtaposing elements of very different periods had a great impact on the evolution of interior design.
And on a more personal note, what was the first important piece of art you ever owned?
A nineteenth-century drawing by Charles-Émile de Tournemine, Cafe in Adalia — exhibited at the Louvre, which I purchased in 1978 from an antique dealer in the provinces. Also, I was at the famous gallery, Alessandro di Castro in Rome and saw a small gilt wood stool — just five centimetres by eight. I asked for its origin and history and I was told it was a doll stool for a Neapolitan nursery..! I recognised the presentation model by the sculptor Nicolas-Quinibert Foliot for the stools of the desk commissioned for Palais Rohan of Strasbourg. I purchased it. The latter can now be seen at Hotel Lambert.
An object you would never part with?
A bronze from French artist Gaston Hauchecorne depicting a monk with half-closed eyes — reflecting my constant quest for wisdom.
What would you like to own that you currently don’t possess?
The Chariot Table by [Irish architect] Eileen Gray in red lacquer, designed for couturier Jacques Doucet, that I almost purchased twenty-five years ago but failed, and advised one of my clients to acquire it. I see this table as the utmost combination of indisputable charm and quality, nevertheless wonderfully extravagant.
What’s your biggest extravagance?
I once said no to a famous and incredibly wealthy client because I knew very well he would not stand by me. I’ve lost a lot of money but I haven’t lost my soul.
What’s your biggest regret?
I have no regrets — it’s quite a strong word. I would have loved to redesign the Ritz Paris, Claridge’s in London, Hotel Cap d’Antibes and the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo.
Where’s the most unforgettable place you’ve travelled?
The marvellous hall of The Breakers in Palm Beach, the Peninsula before renovation as well as Raffles in Singapore. Let’s not forget Cliveden House and Amanpuri in Phuket. These iconic palaces render a powerful personality with the authenticity of their time. A true identity, with its personal spirit, arises from such architecture.
What’s the best souvenir you’ve bought home?
A magnificent statue over thirty years ago from the Khajuraho Group of Monuments in India — a country I’m particularly fond of.
Tell us about a recent “find”?
A bronze neo-Greek crater vase designed for the Villa Kerylos in Beaulieu-sur-Mer.
If you didn’t live in Paris, where would you live?
I would live in London for its architecture, the atmosphere and the current tremendous energy.
If you had to limit your shopping to one neighbourhood, in one city, which would you choose?
I would suggest in Paris, streets such as the rue du Faubourg and Saint-Honoré, and genuine antique dealers of the Rive Gauche. Apart from Hotel Costes, of course, I would recommend Le Voltaire, L’Ambroisie — one of the best restaurants in the world — Marius et Jeannette, known for its fish, Le Relais at Plaza Athénée for its tartar and Laurent for its frog legs.
What’s the best book you’ve read in the past year?
Two books written by French novelist Romain Gary: La promesse de l'aube (Promise at Dawn) and La Vie devant soi (The Life Before Us).
What would you do if you didn’t work in design?
I surely would be a very demanding client with my peers!
What ambition do you still have?
To carry on working in a similar fashion and with the same eagerness.
What’s the greatest challenge of our time?
Finding happiness.
What’s next?
Heaven.
And finally, you’ve been described as “the Don Quixote of Taste”, how do you feel about such a sobriquet?
Depending on how ferocious the windmills are! I have always endeavoured to do whatever is necessary to convince forthrightly a client.