Greenwich Show House

Everything soft in the room is the same blue, read at different depths: velvet on the headboard and the lounge chairs, plain cotton on the bed, embroidered and striped silk at the windows under shaped valances. The ceiling lifts into a vault with a skylight cut into it, so the light moves across the day and the blue never sits still. A limestone chimneypiece anchors one end; a brass chandelier and a long striped ottoman hold the middle of the floor, above a worn rose and ivory carpet that keeps the whole thing from turning cold.

Against that, three kinds of interruption. Large orchid canvases, one to a wall, in magenta, white and spotted gold. Dark Korean chests and a pair of glazed tomb figures, set where the eye would otherwise slide past. And metal everywhere at knee height, wire based chairs and tables, mirrored bedside chests, a wall of round bevelled mirrors above walnut credenzas, all of it catching the window light and handing it back into the room.