Robb Report
2007
Haute Couturier
A designer’s
pied-à-terre
above his office
in SoHo
It’s the middle of the day, and designer/architect Robert Couturier, paper latte cup in hand, gets ready for what he jokes is the longest commute in the world.
He enters the elevator in his Soho office, pushes the up button and when the steel door slides opens one flight later, he is where he wants most to be – home.
“I love being here,” he says as he sinks into the circa 1940 Jacques Adnet sofa, whose slender arms are wrapped in black leather like handbag straps. “I designed everything in this apartment to please me and only me.”
The 2,500-square-foot pied-a-terre, on the same tony street that showcases Prada and Kate Spade, is Couturier’s weekday refuge, the place where he goes to think and entertain clients. Eclectic, light and airy, it serves as a foil to his 16-acre country estate in Kent, Connecticut, which has an 18th-Century house filled with 18th-Century American pieces and a new classic-style home appointed mostly with 18th-Century French and other European furnishings.
“The neighborhood looks most European, there is light coming through the windows, you can see the sky, and it’ feels like a real neighborhood,” he says. “I can walk everywhere it the fancy stirkes me, from lunch at Cipriani to breakfast at the Mercer. It is very quiet at night, and it feels friendly. It still has some architectural diversity, from old-fashioned Victorian to ultra-modern. And, here in the midst of the busiest city in the world, there are little pockets with gardens and trees.”
If a home is a reflection of its owner, Couturier’s apartment more than a glimpse into his personality and variety of interests. For it is comfortable enough for the Frenchman to unwind – when he can’t sleep, he finds it calming to curl up in one of the 1930s Coulon glass armchairs in the living room and survey the serene surroundings – yet elegant enough to charm his most distinguished clients.
Wide windows, adorned with simple cream panels bordered with broad bands of bronze-red satin, and wide-plank cherrywood flooring, salvaged from a vintage building in Connecticut, set the tone for the former warehouse as do the creamy white walls and pale palette, a departure for Couturier, who is passionate about color.
The furnishings hold special meaning because they were acquired during Couturier’s travels in Europe and South America. “Each piece has a story and a history,” says Couturier, his French accent as soft and seductive as the 1920s faded red Iranian area rug, decorated with Chinese patterns, under his feet. “And I relate to objects immensely. I have a love of art history, and for me, following the history of each piece is incredibly amusing.” The pair of Charles X silver candlesticks, for instance, had belonged to his grandmother. The ebonized Egyptian throne, whose figural lions hold up a green velvet pillow, is a find from a Manhattan antiques shop; the elaborate silver wall sconces were discovered in a Paris flea market; and the 1940s Perzel floor lamps, whose metal shades look like women’s hats, were purchased because he remembered seeing a pair as a child.
“I furnished this space this way because I want people to see that I’m still broadminded, and there are no limitations to who I am or what I can do,” Couturier says.
The first thing guests see when they get off the elevator are themselves: A large round mirror, which also reflects a round dining table set for 12, greets them while Couturier, ever the gracious host, takes their coats. While the guests have cocktails and conversation in the living room, the caterers prepare a simple and light fare, usually fresh fish and vegetables. “We also use the table for office meetings,” Couturier says. “I designed this space because I didn’t want to have any wasted time. I don’t work when I’m at my country house, I only work here even though I’m constantly thinking when I’m in Connecticut.”
When your days start at 5:30 and don’t end until the last e-mail is sent at 12:30 a.m., it is necessary to have a space all your own that you can call your own, Couturier says.
The apartment has a guest powder room and two small, utilitarian yet efficient kitchens – one for the caterers – and one where Couturier, who doesn’t know how to cook and has no intention of ever learning, repairs to pour his morning juice. “I never eat at home,” he declares proudly.
In the private quarters, there are a bedroom, two curved alcoves for Couturier’s exercise equipment, a desk that serves as a mini-office and a lavish green-tiled bath, complete with a marble-topped soaking tub and an ottoman, covered with zebra hide, that is almost as big as the bath.
The large, square bed, a Couturier custom design padded with bolsters and pillows so that it looks like a chaise longue, was made not only for slumber but also for viewing the flat-screen plasma TV that dominates the wall in front of it. The spread, hand-embroidered with a cherry-red Asian-frog pattern, is framed by a pair of 18th-Century Chinese black lacquer bookcases that are topped by three-foot-high contemporary statue-bust lamps on golden pedestals and that hold three-foot-high stacks of design books, all artfully arranged with the Couturier touch.
Couturier’s biggest indulgences are the natural oak built-in floor-to-ceiling closets, whose upper reaches are accessible only via a steel library ladder on casters, that line one side of the living room. Their handles, chunks of natural quartz crystal, are cool and precious to the touch. He opens one, revealing poles of bespoke suits that he has made in England by Savile Row’s Kilgour. “I have hundreds,” says Couturier, who smiles as he notes that the bedroom closets, too, are brimming. “My grandmothers were both clothes horses, that’s probably where I get it.”
As Couturier finishes his latte, he plumps up the sofa pillow behind his head and closes his coffee-color eyes for just a moment. In the chaos of Manhattan, only the gentle “bing, bing” of the elevator can be heard as it brings guests to this, Couturier’s personal haven.
“We only have one life, and we should surround ourselves with things that make that life pleasant and enjoyable,” he says and sighs. “This is a calming space. I’m always very happy here.”
He enters the elevator in his Soho office, pushes the up button and when the steel door slides opens one flight later, he is where he wants most to be – home.
“I love being here,” he says as he sinks into the circa 1940 Jacques Adnet sofa, whose slender arms are wrapped in black leather like handbag straps. “I designed everything in this apartment to please me and only me.”
The 2,500-square-foot pied-a-terre, on the same tony street that showcases Prada and Kate Spade, is Couturier’s weekday refuge, the place where he goes to think and entertain clients. Eclectic, light and airy, it serves as a foil to his 16-acre country estate in Kent, Connecticut, which has an 18th-Century house filled with 18th-Century American pieces and a new classic-style home appointed mostly with 18th-Century French and other European furnishings.
“The neighborhood looks most European, there is light coming through the windows, you can see the sky, and it’ feels like a real neighborhood,” he says. “I can walk everywhere it the fancy stirkes me, from lunch at Cipriani to breakfast at the Mercer. It is very quiet at night, and it feels friendly. It still has some architectural diversity, from old-fashioned Victorian to ultra-modern. And, here in the midst of the busiest city in the world, there are little pockets with gardens and trees.”
If a home is a reflection of its owner, Couturier’s apartment more than a glimpse into his personality and variety of interests. For it is comfortable enough for the Frenchman to unwind – when he can’t sleep, he finds it calming to curl up in one of the 1930s Coulon glass armchairs in the living room and survey the serene surroundings – yet elegant enough to charm his most distinguished clients.
Wide windows, adorned with simple cream panels bordered with broad bands of bronze-red satin, and wide-plank cherrywood flooring, salvaged from a vintage building in Connecticut, set the tone for the former warehouse as do the creamy white walls and pale palette, a departure for Couturier, who is passionate about color.
The furnishings hold special meaning because they were acquired during Couturier’s travels in Europe and South America. “Each piece has a story and a history,” says Couturier, his French accent as soft and seductive as the 1920s faded red Iranian area rug, decorated with Chinese patterns, under his feet. “And I relate to objects immensely. I have a love of art history, and for me, following the history of each piece is incredibly amusing.” The pair of Charles X silver candlesticks, for instance, had belonged to his grandmother. The ebonized Egyptian throne, whose figural lions hold up a green velvet pillow, is a find from a Manhattan antiques shop; the elaborate silver wall sconces were discovered in a Paris flea market; and the 1940s Perzel floor lamps, whose metal shades look like women’s hats, were purchased because he remembered seeing a pair as a child.
“I furnished this space this way because I want people to see that I’m still broadminded, and there are no limitations to who I am or what I can do,” Couturier says.
The first thing guests see when they get off the elevator are themselves: A large round mirror, which also reflects a round dining table set for 12, greets them while Couturier, ever the gracious host, takes their coats. While the guests have cocktails and conversation in the living room, the caterers prepare a simple and light fare, usually fresh fish and vegetables. “We also use the table for office meetings,” Couturier says. “I designed this space because I didn’t want to have any wasted time. I don’t work when I’m at my country house, I only work here even though I’m constantly thinking when I’m in Connecticut.”
When your days start at 5:30 and don’t end until the last e-mail is sent at 12:30 a.m., it is necessary to have a space all your own that you can call your own, Couturier says.
The apartment has a guest powder room and two small, utilitarian yet efficient kitchens – one for the caterers – and one where Couturier, who doesn’t know how to cook and has no intention of ever learning, repairs to pour his morning juice. “I never eat at home,” he declares proudly.
In the private quarters, there are a bedroom, two curved alcoves for Couturier’s exercise equipment, a desk that serves as a mini-office and a lavish green-tiled bath, complete with a marble-topped soaking tub and an ottoman, covered with zebra hide, that is almost as big as the bath.
The large, square bed, a Couturier custom design padded with bolsters and pillows so that it looks like a chaise longue, was made not only for slumber but also for viewing the flat-screen plasma TV that dominates the wall in front of it. The spread, hand-embroidered with a cherry-red Asian-frog pattern, is framed by a pair of 18th-Century Chinese black lacquer bookcases that are topped by three-foot-high contemporary statue-bust lamps on golden pedestals and that hold three-foot-high stacks of design books, all artfully arranged with the Couturier touch.
Couturier’s biggest indulgences are the natural oak built-in floor-to-ceiling closets, whose upper reaches are accessible only via a steel library ladder on casters, that line one side of the living room. Their handles, chunks of natural quartz crystal, are cool and precious to the touch. He opens one, revealing poles of bespoke suits that he has made in England by Savile Row’s Kilgour. “I have hundreds,” says Couturier, who smiles as he notes that the bedroom closets, too, are brimming. “My grandmothers were both clothes horses, that’s probably where I get it.”
As Couturier finishes his latte, he plumps up the sofa pillow behind his head and closes his coffee-color eyes for just a moment. In the chaos of Manhattan, only the gentle “bing, bing” of the elevator can be heard as it brings guests to this, Couturier’s personal haven.
“We only have one life, and we should surround ourselves with things that make that life pleasant and enjoyable,” he says and sighs. “This is a calming space. I’m always very happy here.”