Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/96336
OlatzCul OlatzCulturedMiamiDec_Layout 1 11/21/12 12:23 PM Page 94 T "Whatever I do comes from my own intuition." —Olatz Schnabel here is, perhaps, no better way to describe the warm, uncluttered, refined-though-gently-worn aesthetic of Olatz Schnabel's West SoHo townhouse than "that which looks like it's been there all along." Indeed, the Spanish-born, Paris-bred former model and longtime muse of artist Julian Schnabel (to whom she was married for 17 years and has remained close with), has mastered the art of cozy urban living. With a recently launched design firm, she hopes to help others do the same. Interiors by Olatz is Schnabel's latest attempt to formalize a skill and service that she adopted naturally. The first, of course, is her line of highend sleepwear and linens. In the mid-1990s, "My husband Julian designed this incredible bed made of cast iron," she recalls, perched on a plush beige chair in her living room. "I started designing my own linens for them because I couldn't find anything else that made sense." Striking as ever, she has paired a gray, piped-silk charmeuse pajama top from her own collection with a pair of jeans tucked into black leather riding boots. "Those beds were already like a piece of art," she adds. "Whatever you put on them needed to go with it." The resulting bedding—white Italian linen and Egyptian cotton sheets with thick, colored edges, now called the Palermo line—was a hit among friends and family. "Everyone encouraged me, and maybe Julian was the one that encouraged me the most, to have a business, to have a store with my things." For the past eight years, Olatz's Clarkson Street boutique has been a fixture in the West Village. Her designs have been picked up by major department stores such as Barneys New York, and Julian continues to serve as something of a walking advertisement for her work—her silk and linen 94 CULTURED men's pajamas are more or less his daily attire. Designing interiors seemed the next logical step. She had a big hand in the design and construction of her and Julian's homes, including the Palazzo Chupi in Manhattan and a classic Stanford White house they rehabbed in Montauk. The couple separated in 2008, and Olatz moved into the townhouse in 2010 after spearheading extensive renovations (including extracting walls and even a bathroom to convert the first floor into a single open space). Once again, friends came calling. And once again, Julian and others encouraged her to formalize her services. "He's a fan," she says of her ex. "We're fans of each other." Olatz defines her approach as largely instinctive, or, as she puts it, "letting the space tell me what to do." She starts with the structure itself, tearing down walls to create open layouts and nail the distribution of light, then moves on to fixtures and windows—the subtle nuts and bolts that can make or break a home. Olatz's taste certainly owes something to her European roots—an ornate, 18th-century wooden doorway frames the front door, and the living room ceiling is studded with vintage French lamps. But it also draws on her travels and other elements of her past. Paintings by Olatz's brother, Alejandro Garmendia, and Julian (including two colossal portraits of the former couple's 18-year-old sons) are integrated seamlessly into the design itself, hanging from walls that look like they were made for them, mingling with accent pieces from Morocco and towering mantles custom-made from found wood. "Whatever I do comes from my own intuition, my own needs, what I want to see," she says. "Looking for places in my memory, places I've been in the past." If her linen business is any indication, others are wont to come looking too.