During a day, Alexandra O’Neill’s Greenwich Village unit doubles as her brand’s headquarters. The Markarian group of 4 taps divided during their laptops on a Bertoia dining chairs, surrounded by wardrobe racks displaying a Spring and Resort collections, while during night, O’Neill invites friends over for cooking parties. Menus are combined formed on what is uninformed during a circuitously Union Square Greenmarket and served on her favorite zodiac Laboratorio Paravicini plates and selected French tablecloths or Zsuzsanna Nyul list linens. On a dusk before my visit, a cackle of friends had collected for Halloween costume-making, and during my debate of a apartment, a feather-and-jewel-festooned headdresses were displayed alongside Markarian’s Spring ’18 Saturn clutches.
The smooth, purify lines and pale hues of Alexandra O’Neill’s Greenwich Village unit competence seem to exist in pointy contrariety to a gratifying frills of her wardrobe line, Markarian, yet a adore of textiles and courtesy to fact suffuses both. “I adore doing prints and over-the-top for a wardrobe since it changes seasonally, yet your home is some-more permanent and you’re never going to get ill of neutrals,” explains a designer, her Yorkie, Winston, twisted on her path and her Maltese, Milly, peering adult from a antique Persian carpet (brought behind from a family outing to Turkey). “But we have all my engaging pops.” Those pops embody a span of cobalt mid-century match lamps above a matte black-painted kitchen and gem-color velvet pillows from ABC Carpet Home on a oyster white sofa.
During a finish tummy restoration of a prewar one-bedroom, O’Neill unclosed and easy many of a strange moldings and pattern elements that had been dark and built over by a years. Cove lighting was transposed with moldings modeled after a originals, and a lowered kitchen and corridor ceilings were pushed behind adult to their strange height. For O’Neill, a preference to take on a charge of decorating a unit on her possess was an easy one. “I’m so specific in a ambience that we have and a things that we like that it translates to my home as well,” she explains, still revelation she couldn’t have finished it yet her nimble plan manager. “And I’m such a homebody, so if I’m not gentle in my home it’s not ideal.”
A hulk Cire Trudon Odalisque candle accents a edge next a French windows, that O’Neill had commissioned via a apartment. By deepening a existent windowsills and pulling a bookshelves serve out into a room, she combined dual friendly window seats, one used to arrangement treasures and a other, dressed with a Madeline Weinrib pillow, as her reading nook, a grapevine charmingly climbing adult a outward of a window. The rose bullion counterpart above a mantelpiece hides a TV where O’Neill likes to watch Stranger Things or Versailles, yet during my visit, a whole wall is vaporous by a shelve of Markarian Spring dresses with floor-length leafy lead limit that tickles Winston’s muzzle as he passes.
The self-professed 1stdibs addict sourced many of her mid-century gems from some of her favorite dealers on a site. “I adore 1stdibs so much, we got roughly all from there,” she says. In a corridor confronting a kitchen, a 1stdibs-sourced console is home to a pencil-on-paper mural of O’Neill’s great-grandmother Abby, a contingent of blown potion vases scored during a 28th Street flower market, and a coronet conch bombard vase means from her college best friend.
The vital room is a heart of a home. A span of large, Ad Reinhardt–esque epitome canvases combined by O’Neill in college hang above a Restoration Hardware sofa. Topiaries in John Derian Tuscan pots are framed on a windowsill by a greenery of a yard below. A span of James Sansum chairs flanks a Milo Baughman burl timber coffee list layered with interior pattern books, a baby alligator conduct from Key West, and pleasant fronds in a immature copper vase.
“It’s my tiny marble palace,” O’Neill jokes of a floor-to-ceiling marble lavatory that faces a supernatural shoe and purse closet illuminated in a corridor by Charlotte Perriand’s iconic wall sconces. There was a walk-in closet, yet O’Neill, ever a pattern perfectionist, got absolved of it so that a doors of a unit would line adult on a singular axis.
The petite bedroom is done to feel bigger by a windows, a built-in cubbies above a bed, and a bookshelves that form an alcove around a bed, hosting all from The Wizard of Oz to Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace, her stream read. “It’s tiny yet it gets so most light,” she says. The wooden shutters give a bedroom a European air, as do a antique trinkets gleaned over many years of visiting a Paris and London flea markets. “I always collect adult a tiny something from my travels,” she says, lifting a bronze candlestick from Paris: “I call it my 18th-century flashlight.”
The section patio has recently perceived some indispensable adore and care, only in time for winter hibernation. O’Neill combined a hideaway limit and 18-inch trellis, as good as a Serena Lily wicker dais and Sicilian ceramic head, picked adult during her sister’s Positano wedding in 2016, to keep her fig tree company. “Look, it’s producing a second crop!” she says proudly, holding a ostiole of a fig in her palm. “The second we stopped holding caring of them, they started doing better,” she says of her trees.
She does take caring of her flowers though. O’Neill creates a weekly event adult to a 28th Street flower market. Her favorite, Dutch Flower Line, is so dear that she recently hosted a Markarian cooking there for Fashion Week. “I adore it. I’ll customarily do hulk immature palms here,” she flits her finger around a vital room, “and afterwards branches in a kitchen condense hallway, and tiny flowers everywhere else. That’s always my cocktail of color—the wardrobe on a racks also helps!”