When most people think kitchens they immediately think appliances. Whereas my attention was captured by color, art, and decorative touches. So, thank goodness everything works (except for that niggling issue of the wash machine wanting to break through the exterior wall to freedom), and let’s take a look at the decorative elements that led to the, um, unique theme of Howard Johnson’s at Versailles.
The first thing is always “Work with what you’ve got,” right? So, what did I have? Some wonderful midcentury furniture from Gramma’s house, vintage Fiestaware (including several pieces in the famous Radioactive Orange* that were actually made with uranium oxide), and some beat-up Franciscan Starburst. I also had The Urn, and after 17 years in the cellar it was time for it to make a comeback.
In the words of the late Cole Porter, “It’s appalling! It’s appealing!”
Back in the early 1990s when Daddy was on the hospital board of directors, he was given The Urn as a Christmas gift; everyone else on the board got one, too, I gather. Mother, of course, thought it was awful and wouldn’t have it in the house. I, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious and begged to have it to put on top of the john. It played a prominent role in my bathroom decor at both Beacon Street and Columbus Avenue, but when I moved to Maison Robaire there was no obvious place for it, so off it went to storage. It was the linchpin of the Versailles half of the scheme.
In the old kitchen I’d used beautiful orange sarongs patterned with green leaves on vines for curtains, and they cast a wonderful glow in the room late in the day. The view is inconsequential, so I never open the curtains in here. “How,” I asked myself, “could I incorporate a view of Versailles in this room?” The answer turned out to be screening early 18th-century illustrations of Versailles gardens and fountains onto “tapestries” from Fine Art America, getting the dry cleaner to hem them at the top, and hanging them on café curtain rods. In front of them I hung white gauze curtains and tied them back with roughly color-coordinated ribbon left over from Christmas or birthday gifts. (Always save the ribbon if it’s pretty.)
Pastelitos and Boston Cream Pie by Kurt Walters, hanging over the desk between the windows.
At the Simie Maryles Gallery in Provincetown in 2019 I discovered the Dessert Series by Brooklyn artist Kurt Walters, and was completely charmed by his work. While I missed out on the Apple Crisp that first captivated me, I was delighted to bring home his Pastelitos, a handsome Cubano offering a basket of traditional Cuban pastries in a beach atmosphere of blue and sand — with just enough hints of orange to make it work the Howard Johnson’s half of the scheme. Last month I snapped up one of Kurt’s latest series, Boston Cream Pie. Aside from its Boston roots, this smiling baseball player has the added advantage of coordinating completely with the curtains.
Now, if you’re talking desserts and Versailles in the same sentence, you are of course going to think of a famous queen who lost her head and something she was supposed to have said about eating cake that she didn’t actually say. I talked Kurt into painting Marie Antoinette with a cake in front of the Petit Trianon, and I love having her as a presiding spirit in here. At the moment she’s been displaced by Boston Cream Pie, but I need to talk Kurt into a companion piece for her, a Howard Johnson’s soda jerk with a hot fudge sundae, so . . .
Notice wire sculptor Brian Murphy’s wire head of Marie Antoinette.
So that’s the Versailles half of things. The Hojo half starts with their colors: blue, orange, and white. Originally I was flirting with a, shall we say, bolder, more authentic color scheme having found some vinyl floor covering on the internet in koi orange. I was persuaded to lighten up, and eventually my English friends steered me to a wonderful tile company that made a vinyl floor tile in pale blue (almost an exact match with the Franciscan Starburst). So I painted the ceiling a pale orange that really turned out to be a bold yellow, but I still love it.
Mother’s pill basket.
Orange turns up elsewhere: in Fiestaware, in my new teakettle, and drawer pulls and cupboard handles. Whatever the cabinets came with was just too ordinary! The orange throw rugs from the old kitchen work just fine in here, too. Mother’s little medicine basket has a peach ribbon running through it. She made it herself in an art class, and kept all her pill bottles in it for years. She even brought it with her to the hospital on that last day. I love having it, but I keep fruit or other kitchen things in it.
During construction, one of the surprises (for me, anyway) was the need for a new circuit breaker located in the kitchen. Circuit breakers are notoriously unattractive, and I knew I’d need to mask it somehow. The poster everyone signed for my Boston Ballet farewell party in 2003 works perfectly, and with the added benefit of featuring Adriana Suarez. Every room benefits from the presence of Adriana!
By the door I have three generations of family needlework. Mother’s “Be It Ever So Humble There’s No Place Like Home” I have always loved. Laura made especially for me the coffee and beignet still life for Christmas! How special is that?! And over the door is Gramma’s “No Matter Where I Serve My Guests, It Seems They Like My Kitchen Best.” This hung in her kitchen next do the dining room door, and it takes me right back to her house when I see it.
The refrigerator in the old kitchen had been covered in magnets and postcards, but that approach wasn’t going to work with my tall, slim, handsome new Bosch. When my English friends came to visit in 2016 they brought me these beautiful magnets from the Alhambra, and they couldn’t be more perfect.
Note the orange handle.
Finally, I keep a special message over the sink.
Green Red Wing Pottery vases, Franciscan Starburst butter dish, salt and pepper from Gramma’s kitchen, all on a counter of Eternal Noir Suede quartz. (Or granite. Whatever.)
*Yes, Fiestaware fans, I know that color is officially red, but it’s orange.