Post Company

The house sits deep in the Adirondacks, fifteen miles from the nearest town, built in the 1890s for a Manhattan lawyer who wanted somewhere to disappear. It had been renovated many times since — sometimes carefully, sometimes not. When our clients bought it, they brought a different ambition: not to restore it to any particular moment in its history, but to make it feel as though it had always been exactly this way.

The program was generous in scale and social in spirit. Across the main house and carriage house, the property needed to accommodate twenty guests — five bedroom suites, two bunkrooms, a commercial kitchen, and enough variety of space that people could be together and have completely different experiences. The design responded to that multiplicity: rooms of different scales and moods, each with its own character, all held within the same framework of restraint.

Interiors were stripped of the expected Adirondack register — the dark wood, the antlers, the rustic theatrics. Instead, limewash walls in Farrow & Ball Schoolhouse White, wide oak floors, coffered ceilings painted out to give the rooms room to breathe. The test was whether, from the inside, you could guess anything about the outside. We were glad when the answer was no.

Furniture was assembled across eras and geographies — Pierre Chapo stools, Swedish shelving, Welsh Stick chairs reinterpreted by Greg Mitchell, antique Heriz rugs, Henning Kjærnulf armchairs, a French Provincial oak sideboard anchoring the stair hall. Nothing from a single period or place. Objects chosen for what they do in a room, not what they signal about it.

The house is not complete until it is filled with people. That was the brief, more or less, and the rooms were designed to make it true.