If God is in the details Howard Slatkin, interior designer and author of Fifth Avenue Style, is surely a saint. Reading his book is a glimpse into a wonderful fantasy achieved in only 3 years in his New York Pied-a-terre. At first glance I assumed the renovation took place over 20 years.
Approach-ably written the interior photography by Tria Giovan is also breathtaking beautiful. In each scene the room is set as if for a party to which you were lucky enough to be invited. While this over the top maximalism isn't for everyone granted, even the most ardent minimalist can learn something from Slatkin's approach to detail.
No detail is overlooked, both in the apartment and in his daily life it would seem. My favorite image is a lunch for two at a small table set up overlooking the park, similar to the lunch HabituallyChic was lucky enough to have in this same spot! Don't miss her post on her visit. Also don't miss the video tour of Slatkin's apartment at Quintessence.
Slatkin charmingly walks you through the process of finding the apartment and the entire gut renovation and planning stage. I always appreciate a floorplan and the book includes them at different stages of work.
Notice above the wallpaper wrapping the door and even the interesting but different door knobs on each side. Nothing was left to chance. Really, isn't that how the best interiors succeed?
The most talked about space in the whole apartment, oddly enough, is Slatkin's closet. I suppose one might call it a dressing room given its grandness. Custom designed door pulls, marquetry paneling, antiques - would you even want to leave after getting dressed?
Don't miss Fifth Avenue Style printed by Vendome Press no matter your stylistic leanings. And be sure to remove the dust jacket to see the beautiful cover (first image).
All images courtesy of Vendome Press and Tria Giovan
Approach-ably written the interior photography by Tria Giovan is also breathtaking beautiful. In each scene the room is set as if for a party to which you were lucky enough to be invited. While this over the top maximalism isn't for everyone granted, even the most ardent minimalist can learn something from Slatkin's approach to detail.
No detail is overlooked, both in the apartment and in his daily life it would seem. My favorite image is a lunch for two at a small table set up overlooking the park, similar to the lunch HabituallyChic was lucky enough to have in this same spot! Don't miss her post on her visit. Also don't miss the video tour of Slatkin's apartment at Quintessence.
Slatkin charmingly walks you through the process of finding the apartment and the entire gut renovation and planning stage. I always appreciate a floorplan and the book includes them at different stages of work.
Notice above the wallpaper wrapping the door and even the interesting but different door knobs on each side. Nothing was left to chance. Really, isn't that how the best interiors succeed?
The most talked about space in the whole apartment, oddly enough, is Slatkin's closet. I suppose one might call it a dressing room given its grandness. Custom designed door pulls, marquetry paneling, antiques - would you even want to leave after getting dressed?
Don't miss Fifth Avenue Style printed by Vendome Press no matter your stylistic leanings. And be sure to remove the dust jacket to see the beautiful cover (first image).
All images courtesy of Vendome Press and Tria Giovan
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The entry hall, decorated by 




One of the trends I was happy to see was the attention paid to ceilings throughout the showhouse -Raji didn't leave it at Venetian plaster, this gilded squiggle made for Raji by Christianson Lee Studios was really fun!

















I'Yo Ho! my boys," said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night! Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up!" cried old Fezziwig with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say JackRobinson. . . ."
Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ballroom as you would desire tosee on a winter's night.
In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk and made an orchestra of it and tuned like fifty stomach aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Misses Fezziwig, beaming and lovable. In came the six followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid with her cousin the baker. In came the cook with her brother's particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master, trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress; in they all came, any-how and every-how. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping, old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.
When this result was brought about the fiddler struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pairs of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance and had no notion of walking.
But if they had been thrice as many, oh, four times as many, old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted at any given time what would become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance, advance and retire; both hands to your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig cut so deftly that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again with a stagger.
When the clock struck eleven the domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually, as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas!


