Designing Downside Up
by Evelyn Bartin

Back in the late 1950s, I remember with some moment the occasion of my mother's shopping for a new bedroom set for my parents' new room in their new house in the newly emerging suburbs of New York. As my mom entered the furniture store, the in-house decorator was quick to her aid. Since this was probably the first big ticket purchase in my mother's life, she was glad for the help. The decorator's name was Mrs. Cioffi, and besides being the store's one-woman design department, she was also the manager's wife. Whether she was formally schooled in design I'll never know, but I remember her approach to the room as clearly as if it were yesterday. My mom may have been her customer but, even at my tender age, I was her attentive pupil.

Mrs. Cioffi pointed out that the furniture always came first and the bed was, of course, the focal point of the room. Focal point: this was a new concept for me. I was all ears. Mrs. Cioffi also suggested that the bed could be nicely accented with a bench at its foot. She advised my mother that every other bit of furniture should be purchased in pairs—end tables, lamps, sitting chairs. A "nice" rug could then be selected after all the major furniture choices were made. To set it all off, the walls should be painted a lovely "soft" color with the ceiling, of course, painted white. And overhead lighting—well that was nothing more than an afterthought, a simple and utilitarian fixture in the ceiling. As I look back and remember my parents' brand new expensive bedroom, I realize it looked like a big beige smile face.

I don't know whatever became of Mrs. Cioffi. Perhaps I should be grateful to her for my first lesson in room design. However, I can't help but wonder if she didn't do me more harm than good. For years I believed that good design started with this orderly, symmetrical formula: 1) furniture must be decided first; 2) a room is allowed only one focal point; 3) rugs serve only as a quiet complement; 4) color means various shades of beige; and 5) lighting is nothing more than a way to find your way around in the dark.

All that early information was eventually blasted out of my consciousness when Jed Johnson entered the scene. There were others before him, and there certainly have been others after him. But Johnson was the first one to actually penetrate my design psyche in a meaningful way. If I'd been able to afford a therapist at the time, I suppose that therapist would have said I was ready for Johnson.

Among (many) other things, Johnson believed that a room could start with a great rug and then work its way up from there. Imagine that, Mrs. Cioffi! A room doesn't have to start at the top with the furniture and work its way, lock-stepped, down to the rug! What an epiphany! From then on I was open to so much more than some formulaic approach to good design. If you could start with a rug, why not start with a piece of art? Or, for that matter, why not start with some great lighting? (Have you seen the gorgeous stuff coming out of Italy?! Why couldn't you make lighting your starting place? Even your focal point!) And the color possibilities, Mon Dieu! Anything is possible!

But Mrs. Cioffi was right about one thing: you have to start somewhere. And while she may have been far too rigid in her approach, the fact is you shouldn't have thirty focal points jammed into one room. And you do need to know how to work with shape and line and color and texture. And you do need a good design eye to pull things together beautifully. And most of all, you should have a working concept or theme.

If you do want to begin with a rug and design up from there, these days there are many extraordinary ones to choose from. In the category of not-costing-an-arm-and-a-leg, there are rugs in catalogs, rugs in discount stores, even "seconds" in the high end stores that can be had for amazing prices. Whether synthetic or natural fibers and dyes, some of the designs are spectacular, particularly considering the price points.

In the more chère category, there are rugs from Nepal, rugs from India, rugs from China, rugs from the "stans" (at least from the ones we're not at war with). There is a good supply of antique Persians that became available once the trade embargo lifted with Iran. There are glorious Tibetans that can work with either a traditional or a contemporary theme. There are bokaras and aubussons and kilims that can make your heart sing. And there are distinctly modern rugs that would make Picasso, Chagall and Miro lift their collective glasses in toast. These pricier ones, though, can send you into sticker shock pretty quickly, so you might want to engage the services of a professional designer to not only point you in the right decorating direction, but also get you a trade-only deal.

Also, make sure your rug is returnable Even a good designer can make a wrong choice in the harsh lights of a store or showroom, away from the context and lighting of the actual room. Most high-end places will give you a few days to change your mind, particularly if you're buying through a designer who does business with them regularly. You may have to suffer a restocking charge, but whether it's your beginning or end point, it's far better than living with a bad choice.

Well, since my Jed Johnson breakthrough I've not only moved way past Mrs. Cioffi, but I've even developed some signature design approaches of my own. I only regret that my poor mom never knew the possibilities. My mom—who was known to begin a great outfit in the most unconventional way with a spectacular pair of gloves—never realized she could use that same wonderful sense of personal style to dress a room.

Evelyn Bartin is a designer and runs her own business, E. Bartin Inc., in Milan.