|via the socialite family + (my) unfinished room|
When I think about Parisian apartments and their interiors, opulent and sadly unpracticed period charm immediately comes to mind. That kind of delicate grandeur so uniquely French. And one having grown up in Australia so foreign to that of which I am accustomed to. Interiors like that in the appartement 3 images above that are teeming with character and cloaked with proficient construction and workmanship. It’s the kind of skills we seem to have cast aside in the pursuit of all things modern and minimal. Seemingly overly dissimilar to the suburban brick veneers of the 1960’s and 70’s that once lined Australian suburban streets. Not that I do not have an appreciation for those fast becoming extinct retro clad abodes, but there’s something utterly enthralling about such contrasting bewitchment of French architecture. And it doesn’t just stop with the interiors. Those exquisite limestone exteriors themselves boasting esteem and ostentatious prowess. Epochal and quintessentially French; a beloved landscape and symbol of the City of Light itself.
The “appartement 3” apartment of interior designers Charlotte de Tonnac and Hugo Sauzay, is tantamount to my own Parisian design dreaming. One consisting of iconic parquetry flooring, elongated mullion windows and oversized doors with white walls adorned in aged moulding and cornices. The kind of space skilfully and minimally littered with beloved furnishings and accoutrement. Not to forget an enviable accessory collection consisting of desirable titled coffee table books and framed photography. It is a triumphant mix of industrial and mid-century. A fluid and denseness, wood and hardware, mature and bygone. The kind of interior design and the kind of space one (more like, myself) aspires to create in my own personal area.