The Bee Cottage Story

by Frances Schultz

  Looking back I’m stunned to see how harsh I was with myself. Acknowledging my own vulnerability and weakness, and admitting it to the world by asking for help, is something I now see as courageous. It was also a step toward compassion and forgiveness toward myself, and toward healing.

  Chapter 20

  The Dining Room and Library

  The dining room was a dilemma. It needed to multi-task, but I wasn’t sure how. My original thought was to have it double as library and office. But enh, it’s a public room and a thoroughfare, and I didn’t want to look at desk mess every time I walked by. The upstairs study and spare guest room (Chapter 23) would serve as my writing place, and the butler’s pantry (Chapter 21) could do home-office duty. But I do have tons of books, and the dining room was the best option for a library. The larger point, though, in the spirit of preserving the formal dining room—which I’m all for—is to let it relax a little into a space that works with the way you actually live. Mine became open storage space, a library, and a repository for collections. More recently it has also become an art studio, since we can eat outside in the summer. So much for not looking at a mess, but it’s an art-y mess.

  Crown molding and wainscoting enhance a room’s dimension and scale. So does using a different color or wall treatment above and below the chair rail.

  Appropriately then, shelving was important. One wall had a 3-by-4-foot niche of glass shelves lit from above, which I love. As for others, those sturdy old French metal and wood étagères were a design inspiration for the garden-shed-meets-manor-house vision I had for Bee. They have a utilitarian elegance that is un-pretentious, yet chic and timeless. These are good replicas—designed by Suzanne Kasler for Hickory Chair Furniture Co.—a splurge, but worth it.

  The cases come in two parts, with four top shelves atop two deeper bottom shelves. Since they were too tall for my seven-and-a-half-foot ceilings, I put the bottoms along one wall as serving and storage pieces and put the uppers on either side of the window as bookcases. This is around the time designer and friend Tom Samet (Chapter 19) entered the picture, thank heaven. And with his Yankee directness that invariably tickles my Southern sensibilities, Tom declared that my arrangement looked “like a storeroom,” as though a man in a forklift would drive by any minute. He was right, so one of the bottom pieces went to the garden room (Chapter 18).

  BEFORE

  Before, the dining room was traditionally furnished and arranged, with the table in the center of the room.

  The dining room today, with table slightly off center to allow wider passage when not in use. Vintage birdcage painted white and wired for light is swagged to hang over table but can be un-hooked to hang in center of room when table is moved for dinner parties. The Old World Weavers cloth is repurposed from Tom Samet’s old curtains. Chairs from Sylvester & Co. in Amagansett.

  Turn a random object into a light fixture. The dining room’s bird cage fit the bill perfectly, and you won’t find it in any catalog.

  The house in general reflects an aesthetic of “refined rusticity,” and nowhere more so than in the dining room. Traditional architectural elements, Louis LXI-style chairs, and “good” china and silver co-exist peaceably with lowly framed botanicals, stacks of plates, and a jumble of books, sea shells, rocks, birds’ nests, and other random objects. It’s always changing.

  Double-decker French bakers’ shelves by Suzanne Kasler for Hickory Chair were separated to create an ad-hoc sideboard here, with the top halves serving as bookcases, opposite. My kooky collection of pressed botanicals is hung on every wall.

  Rooms shouldn’t be static, and one of the ways to keep them lively is to change the art and objects displayed in them, however simple or modest.

  Tom decreed a pale honey-colored grass cloth above the chair rail and a ragged paint finish below in a slightly lighter shade, adding subtle layers of texture and warmth. He also supplied the Old World Weavers fern-printed burlap tablecloth, fashioned from his own old curtains, like Scarlett o’Hara’s dress.

  He was skeptical of my idea to off-center the table, but I converted him. It makes the room look larger, and it creates a wider passage from front door to kitchen. It also allows more space for a makeshift art studio set up in front of the window. The huge mirror opposite the window plays with scale and creates the illusion of another window. I don’t know if my friend Vicente Wolf started that prop-a-giant-mirror-on-the-floor thing, but that’s who I got it from. I’ve wanted to lean a mirror on a wall since about 1987, and this was my chance.

  Lately I’ve come to use the dining room and library as a mini-studio. The north light is nice and I can see children riding their bicycles up and down the street out front. Sometimes tourists stop to take pictures, awww.

  Sam’s “studio.” Top portions of bakers’ shelves serve as bookcases.

  When I think of it, it’s a room that reflects my many loves: books, nature, food, the company of friends, and now my Sunday painting, too.

  The chandelier is an old flea market bird cage I’ve toted around—birdless—for years and for which I finally found a use. I painted it white and Tom said to fill the bottom with shells. Hung, the birdcage casts the prettiest pattern of light on the ceiling—a delightful surprise.

  Botanicals are hung floor to ceiling. I love them and collect them. Shells, too, piled on the lighted glass shelves, are dramatic at night. When I think of it, it’s a room that reflects my many loves: books, nature, food, the company of friends, and now my Sunday painting, too. It makes me happy just to pass through this room. To tell you the truth, the whole house is like that.

  Set for a party. The shell centerpiece has an elaborate effect but is simple to do. Groups of objects are an interesting alternative to traditional flowers. China, Mottahedeh Torquay.

  Notes on Dining and Other Multi-Tasking Rooms

  I pray: Lead us not into temptation to abandon the dining room, even if it is seldom used as such. It is so lovely to have when you need it and so easily does double-duty as a library or study, depending on its location.

  Don’t be afraid of using big pieces in small rooms; they enhance the sense of spaciousness and scale. Big mirrors are especially effective in a small house, and I love them opposite windows. Propping them on the floor evokes vintage and wonderful Vicente Wolf.

  Hang your paintings salon-style, floor to ceiling, whether you have limited wall space (which I do) or not. It has a certain eccentric Euro charm, non?

  Who says the table has to be smack in the middle of the room? Just make sure the overall furniture arrangement is balanced. Trust your eye.

  If your light fixture wiring is centered but your table isn’t (see above), attach a hook to the ceiling centered above the table and have enough chain for your fixture to swag it from the center and hang from the hook above the table. If you decide at any time you want to center the table and chairs, maybe when you’re entertaining, simply move the table and un-hook the chain, allowing the chandelier to hang in the middle.

  Is there a space–doesn’t even have to be a room–that you walk through every day that’s just blah? Well, you can change that. Hang the Picasso there—or your daughter’s rendition thereof. Put in shelves to display a collection, or start a collage or a bulletin board. It’s an opportunity for inspiration; seize it!

  Wainscoting gives a small room presence. Different treatments above and below it add another layer of interest and texture to the room. You can combine wallpaper and paint, two different textures or paint colors, or different shades of the same hue.

  I’ve pretty much concluded if you have a house anywhere near the beach you can throw shells around pretty much anything and make it look better. Even if you want to avoid cliché (and you do), shells don’t count because they are sort of neutral, like gravel or moss.

  Chapter 21

  The Kitchen and Butler’s Pantry

  The kitchen and butler’s pantry were the only areas in the house where I started from scratch. A mixed blessing. Too many choice
s can be as daunting as too few are confining.

  The kitchen was straightforward enough. It was a long, narrow galley that had been tacked on to the side of the house in the sixties (I’m guessing). I entertain fairly often and have never minded a galley kitchen. They are efficient, and if you have company while you’re cooking, they have no choice but to roost at one end or the other and therefore out of your way. (In theory, anyway.) Arranging it was just a matter of getting that Bermuda Triangle of stove-sink-fridge right. I put the stove across from the sink and the fridge next to the stove, nearest the butler’s pantry door, which I figured would be the likeliest point of entry for hungry or thirsty intruders. Heaven help anyone who crosses into the Triangle while I’m cooking.

  The kitchen finishes were inspired by a long-coveted kitchen from a house I wrote about for House Beautiful a few years ago designed by Abby Rizor and Hattie Wolfe. (Thank you again, Abby and Hattie!) Minding the budget, I chose semi-custom cabinets, which are standard-size cabinets in custom configurations. Ordering them in “paint grade” was less expensive than wood finishes, and to me the painted finishes were more old-fashioned and better suited to the house. I wanted the color of limed oak, and Benjamin Moore obliged with Manchester Tan. The countertops and drawer pulls were as close to the Rizor-Wolfe inspiration as I could find.

  A nook in the back corner is dressed up by a collection of blue and white plates and an inherited antique gate leg table that I painted white. Swedish chairs from Tom Samet. Hanging metal chalkboard from General Home Store, East Hampton.

  BEFORE

  The long, narrow galley kitchen is installed in what was once likely a porch.

  As it is today. Walls are Benjamin Moore Palladian Blue and ceiling is BM Powder Sand, both in high gloss. Counters are Caesarstone. Rug from Madeline Weinrib, ABC Carpet.

  To make it look less kitchen-y, we used only a few upper cabinets and left space for a table and chairs. The exterior wall is blessed with four windows that look out on the herb garden, which is great. The bit of wall near the door got open shelves, where sits my sand collection, among other bits and bobs. My mother’s 18th century Irish mahogany table I had previously painted a high-gloss cream color, and designer Tom Samet found the Swedish chairs and plate rack, which we painted gray like the doors and window mullions. No one ever sits there, but it looks good and the table is useful. The big metal chalk “board” was another inspiration for the look of the room, and I use it to write the evening’s menu if I’m entertaining, or for just pure silliness: “Bee Cottage . . . Sweet as Honey,” stuff like that.

  Open shelving holds my highly prestigious (but only to me) collection of sand. At Tom Samet’s suggestion, a harlequin pattern is stenciled on the shelves, one of those nice details he is so good at.

  The mahogany table has recently been moved to the city apartment, replaced with an old painted French comptoir, or counter, with wonderful barley twist legs. I bought it years ago in Paris and have finally found a home for it.

  Tom suggested the quilted aluminum backsplash for the stove. I would never have thought of that. The floor, which looks like limed oak, is ceramic tile, which Tom found, and it is genius. My contractor suggested heating the floor from beneath, also genius. The up-front cost is a bit more, but it is very efficient. It feels good, too.

  A metal rod across the windows takes the place of curtains and provides handy storage for baskets and drying herbs.

  I’ve always liked the texture and warmth of baskets and pots hanging around. It is very Eighties, I know, but I use them and it’s good to have them handy. It also frees up masses of cabinet space.

  The Butler’s Pantry

  Where I grew up in the South, many of the old houses had butler’s pantries. By the time I came along, there were more butler’s pantries than butlers.

  What I came to call the butler’s pantry was the house’s original kitchen, but over time it had become a sort of ad hoc laundry room—washer here, dryer there, with charming 1920s (or so) glass-front cabinets and a built-in pull-down ironing board in-between. Although we were able to salvage a few of the original cabinets, everything else had to go. (1964 Kenmore range, anyone?) It pained me to lose the little pull-down ironing board, even though I loathe the act of ironing.

  BEFORE

  The house’s original kitchen had morphed into an ersatz butler’s pantry and laundry room.

  Then once the space was gutted, it languished. I was flummoxed. On the one hand, it was a great design opportunity. And on the other, it was a great design opportunity—if you know what I mean. The pressure! To make things worse, Tom Samet kept telling me it should be “very special,” which made me “very nervous.” But he was right. It’s a major pass-through area and needed to be interesting. Here’s what else it needed: shelves for some of my 72 million cookbooks, some kind of desk and office area, storage for china and table linens, a sink, a place to fix flowers, storage for flower-fixing stuff, a bar, and counter space. Piece of cake, right?

  Patience. I firmly believe if you let it all swim around in your un-conscious for a while, the answer will eventually surface. In the meantime, it will drive you crazy.

  Now a proper butler’s pantry with a desk in the bargain. The higher counter at left is a convenient serving height, also allowing for ample drawers beneath to store linens, flatware, and candles. At right is a desk area with bookshelves above for cookbooks. Countertops are teak. The wall between desktop and bookshelves is corkboard for pinning invitations, photos, and amusing thank-you notes. Light fixtures are original and given a coat of matte black paint. The shimmery blue ceiling— BM Galapagos Turquoise— lends a bit of drama and dash. (In truth it was a good use for paint left over from the guest room upstairs.) Floor is wood-grained ceramic tile, heated from beneath.

  A photo from my Instagram, the afternoon light filtering through the butler’s pantry window is a gift every day.

  The solutions seem so obvious now that I can’t remember why I was confused about it. (But then I can’t remember anything.) Sure enough, one day, bingo: Knee-hole desk and bookshelves on one side with a lower countertop, file drawers, and printer on a pullout shelf in the cabinet. Cabinets and drawers opposite, with a higher countertop and under-counter wine fridge. At the end under the window, a deep sink with a high spigot. A cabinet to one side for flower arranging stuff. Another cabinet on the other side for liquor and drinks. The glasses in the cabinets above. Cabinets are painted in the same manner as the kitchen’s cabinets are painted, but the countertops are teak, which will become wonderfully scratched and marred and water-marked over time. My idea of cork tiles between the counter and the cabinets to become the most fun-to-look-at bulletin board ever has a ways to go. Painting the ceiling a glossy turquoise blue seemed like a good use for leftover guest room paint (Chapter 25). The light fixtures are original, with their metal bases painted black.

  Now if I could just find that butler . . .

  Notes on Kitchens and Other Multi-Tasking Rooms

  Fool-proof kitchen design: Take stock of all your kitchenware and whatever else you’ll need to store in your kitchen (mops, brooms, cleaning supplies?). Map out where everything will go according to how often you use it and how accessible it needs to be, and configure cabinets and drawers accordingly. Maximize storage space by building cabinets up to the ceiling. Glass fronts let you see what’s inside.

  If your kitchen has limited space, you can almost always find a way to install a bar or a rack for hanging pots, baskets, colanders, and so on. This frees up a lot of cabinet space.

  Install pull-out shelves in your lower cabinets. It will be life-changing.

  Consider deep drawers in lieu of cabinets. They are very handy. In fact, drawers are handy, period. Make sure you have enough.

  Interior cabinet lighting is atmospheric and great if you want to display the contents. But if you light from above and have wood shelves, only the top shelf will be lit. Otherwise the shelves need to be transparent—glass or Lucite. (I goo
fed, and only the top shelves in the butler’s pantry are lit. Not what I wanted. You’d think the contractor would have pointed this out, but no.)

  It’s nice to have hand soap and hand cream by the sink. I like L’Occitane products for quality and packaging.

  Use a kitchen towel and quit using so many paper towels, dammit!

  In choosing countertops, do a mess test on a sample to see how much the counter “shows.” Do drops of liquid leave a mark? Do a few sprinkles of flour stand up and salute? If so, can the surface be sealed? Is there a comparable color or surface that’s more user-friendly? How much wiping do you want to do?

  Sorry, GE, but I HATE my refrigerator. Seduced by the look of the double door front, I never bothered to check how it actually opened and closed. One side closes like a normal fridge door; the other you have to close with the New York Giants offensive line. I frequently forget to call in the offensive line. It beeps to signal the door is ajar. I want to shoot it with an AK-47. And then have the Giants stomp it to pieces. Lesson: Research and/or test your appliances as best you can before you bring them home.

  While I’m on the appliances subject, status brands are the emperor’s new clothes of kitchens. How many bells and whistles do you really need to make ice cubes and fry bacon? If you’re on a budget, this is a good place to save. And don’t get a double-door fridge until they make one that closes properly.