Text by Holly Peterson | Photography by William Waldron | Produced by Robert Rufino
Change is a funny thing: We fear it at first, but once we take the scary leap, we are drawn to it like bugs to a porch light. The summer of my divorce, I started to write a novel about why we fall in love and why relationships end. I also discovered surfing and found that saltwater acted as a healing elixir, literally washing away my tears. I dragged my board out of the ocean each morning with a smile so bright it hurt my cheeks.
As I surveyed my Hamptons home from my writing corner, I realized that its decor needed a reboot as much as my life did. The joy that I had discovered riding the waves had to resonate back inside my home. For a decade, its interior had been safely shrouded in beige hues that mimicked the sand perpetually between our toes. Predictable was out, and my life was more frantic. Perhaps that harried life had prevented me from noticing that the house was plain old boring.
Bright colors suddenly dominated my redesign choices. Fabric samples that didn’t make me instantly happy were rejected, no regrets or second-guessing. Muted tones were tossed out in favor of the deep azure colors of the Atlantic that now dictated everything I wanted. For the redesign, I turned to Kimberly Hall, who is known for her gutsy color choices and flair for casual whimsy. I told Kim I wanted a place where a big gang could hang out after a day in the water, where a guacamole-and-cilantro-salsa-loaded fish taco melded perfectly with the decor. In the living room, tan walls were transformed into tropical turquoise to mimic the Caribbean Sea as viewed through an Instagram filter. Those vibrant walls set the tone for the rest of the house. We stripped the dark wood staircase, banister, and floors and coated them with bright, luxurious white. The colored walls now reflect off their shine with added snazz.
As I tend to fall in love quickly, we built an entire TV room around green sea glass-like lamps that gripped my heart at first glance. I didn’t just want preppy green apple on the walls to match; I asked Kim to find a green that buzzed with radiation. If you’re going to go for a pop of color, you can’t go 90 percent of the way; it won’t work. Same thing when the front of your surfboard is dangling over the top of a rolling, crashing wave: You gotta commit.
Splashing color around a large house requires care and foresight, and Kim and I agreed we were walking a high tightrope with every decision. If we weren’t careful, we knew we’d end up with a home that looked like a life-size Candy Land board. Tan sisals, natural materials, antique metal tables, and chocolate linen dining chairs helped balance the electrifying jolt one gets from just walking into the rooms.
We used a vivid ultramarine in the guest room that played off of an artwork I already owned. Shells everywhere incorporated the beach into the space. A playful starfish garland is draped across the mantel, and grand seashell sconces dot the walls. The chandelier in the entry, commissioned from a company in England, is composed of hundreds of fish cast in pure white bone china.
I wanted the house to be adventurous and, at the same time, welcoming to the constant flow of city guests, kids, and local surf instructors. My parents, who live across the street, never cease to dive into the eclectic mix of people we gather together. We endeavored to create flexible spaces that would work for intimate groups as well as the big parties I like to throw on holiday weekends, when the sand-filled sisals get rolled up, and the shiny white floors turn my entryway into a mean disco.
Kim is, thankfully, a big fan of the “happy accident.” She told me, “As much as we strive to plan things perfectly on a project, it’s always the thing that may not have turned out exactly as you expected that ends up being the most interesting.”
Whimsy, risk, chance, and big changes may have driven this project, but we had a clear strategy from day one: Keep it bright, bubbly like the Atlantic, and an upbeat mood-enhancer. We didn’t second-guess, we didn’t get scared, and we went for a pure form of joy — kind of like catching that very first wave.
