Surely this cool black and white apartment cannot be
a part of restless New York! Have you ever come suddenly upon an old
Southern house, and thrilled at the classic purity of white columns in a
black-green forest? This entrance hall gives you the same thrill; the
elements of formality, of tranquillity, of coolness, are so evident. The
walls and ceiling are a deep, flat cream, and the floor is laid in large
black and white marble tiles. Exactly opposite you as you enter, there
is a wall fountain with a background of mirrors. The water spills over
from the fountain into ferns and flowers banked within a marble curb.
The two wall spaces on your right and left are broken by graceful niches
which hold old statues. An oval Chinese rug and the white and orange
flowers of the fountain furnish the necessary color. The windows
flanking the entrance doorway are hung with flat curtains of coarse
white linen, with inserts of old filet lace, and there are side curtains
of dead black silk with borderings of silver and gold threads.
In any house that I have anything to do with, there is some sort of desk
or table for writing in the hall. How often I have been in other
people's houses when it was necessary to send a message, or to record an
address, when the whole household began scurrying around trying to find
a pencil and paper! This, to my mind, is an outward and visible sign of
an inward--and fundamental!--lack of order.
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