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Surely, Kate will never tire of the kitchen, which is completely white from the slab-front cabinetry to the quartz counters and the veiny marble backsplash. Raffia pendants from Morocco hang over the peninsula for a hint of playfulness. “It’s more minimal than I usually am,” she admits. “I’m more of a maximalist, but at that moment, I needed something that felt so clean. I was living in sawdust and chaos. And I actually love it now because it feels like a breather from the pattern and color.”
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The adjacent dining area is dedicated to family heirlooms like a set of Allan Gould compass chairs from Kate’s interior designer grandmother and a red vintage rug from her great-grandparents. On the wall, there’s a three-dimensional quilted canvas portrait that her mother painted, while a walnut plant pedestal that her father carved stands in the corner. “There are a lot of sentimental pieces here,” Kate says. “It was really just adding light fixtures after that and I was obsessed with the Hay sconces that are sort of postmodern.”
In the designated sitting area, Kate combined her grandmother’s Eames lounge chair, a pair of Parsons chairs in a nubby sand-toned fabric, and a hand-me-down sofa from her friends that she recovered in coral velvet. But it wasn’t until she found the geometric cream-and-terracotta jute rug that the space came together. “I had all these disparate furniture pieces,” she recalls. “The missing piece was really the rug.”
Kate then adorned the seating with lots of striped throw pillows and filled the shelving unit her husband built with beloved items. Artworks by her sister and brother mingle with those by Peggi Kroll Roberts, Nan Jones, and Steven Harrington; design books are stacked both vertically and horizontally; objects from the Rose Bowl Flea Market are interspersed throughout. “It’s just a collection of all our treasures from travels and from different loved ones,” she says.
