This article originally appeared in the February/March 1995 issue of ELLE DECOR. For more stories from our archive, subscribe to ELLE DECOR All Access.
Simplicity is perfection, they say. If that’s true, Louise Grunwald and her life are becoming more perfect with each passing year. The smiling, beautiful girl who burst into New York society at the age of 18 in green and gold brocade has become the modest and witty woman in beige or black. Her houses, which, like her clothes, were once “entertaining” and “individual,” have become simpler and more classic over time. But they all have one thing in common, then and now: a natural and uninhibited lightness. “I like to feel good,” says Grunwald.
In the library, an armchair upholstered in fabric by Brunschswig & Fils stands next to a table made to order by Parish-Hadley.
Before she arrived in Vienna in 1988—after her husband, Henry, the former editor in chief of Time Inc., was appointed ambassador to Austria—Grunwald set out to learn everything she could about the country. Soon, there was nothing about Austrian history that the ambassador’s wife didn’t know. Throughout her life, Grunwald has applied the same intensive approach to decorating her homes. She says that as a child, “I didn’t know much about furniture, painting or decorating. But I learned not so much by reading as by asking, listening and looking. If I wanted to know something about a particular painter, I would go to galleries and ask dealers. That’s how I learned.”
This curiosity, coupled with their warmth and loyalty, has given Grunwald a wide and eclectic circle of friends. If you are lucky enough to be invited to dinner, you will not only dine exceptionally well, but you will also have good conversation. Their company is usually small, so you have a real chance to talk to your dining partner, who may be a journalist, political figure, diplomat, curator, artist or business magnate. However interesting these people may be, they are only there because Grunwald believes they meet her standards.
Grunwald’s all-white, perfectly square living room is bright, airy and comfortable.
Perfectionism is Grunwald’s vice, but arrogance is not. She says her beach house in the Hamptons, which she has owned for 25 years, is “not a real house, just a little prefab sitting in the dunes.” That’s true, with some exaggeration. According to Grunwald, the original building was a “roofing shed” that Henry Sage, the first owner, found by the highway and brought to this property, a field by the sea, to change clothes in when he went swimming. He later added on the prefab so he could serve lunches outside. Louise Grunwald, who drives to the house with her husband on weekends most of the year, calls it her “emergency exit.”
Tour this all-white Hamptons home
Grunwald has worked on the house over the years, including adding a swimming pool and, four years ago, a second story built by New York architect Michael McCrum that gives you a view of the ocean for the first time. But she believes the real decoration is the natural surroundings. “Michael’s genius in this addition,” she says, “is that he preserved the spirit of the place. His work is so simple and seamless that some of our friends who drove up to the house basically didn’t notice that we had added another story.”
When it comes to furnishing her seaside retreat, Grunwald explains: “You don’t need a lot of stuff. You don’t need a perfect Regency house that would be divine in London. Having that kind of furniture by the sea is silly in a lot of ways, but it’s fun.”
Working with Albert Hadley of Parish-Hadley Associates, a longtime friend and collaborator on her interiors, and Brian Murphy, Grunwald created a serene, all-white decor that combines items she’s collected around the world and items that once belonged to friends. Of the bedroom, she explains, “It’s actually a grotto. I collect shells when we go to the Caribbean, and of course friends give me shells.” Parish-Hadley asked sculptor Mark Sciarrillo to make something out of her collection, and Sciarrillo covered the bedroom walls with Grunwald’s shells.
Connecticut sculptor Mark Sciarrillo cast the bronze coral lantern. Next to the tub is a 19th-century neoclassical English stool.
About “fine” furniture like she has in the city, she says: “I don’t care if it’s real, as long as it looks good. You know, a lot of the furniture here is fake, but it fits in here.”
And indeed, everything in Grunwald’s house fits together, from the ground floor, where a 19th-century English grotto chair and a Louis XIV-style plaster garden stool have been painted white, to the second floor, where a Louis XV armchair in the living room and a reproduction of a French chest of drawers in the bedroom have also been whitewashed. The eclectic, relaxed ensemble of her furniture, upholstery and decorative objects makes it clear that for her, harmony, comfort and tranquility are more important than lineage.
Grunwald values privacy. “You know, if you don’t have privacy, you can’t have surprises.” She modified the driveway so that you can’t see into the house from the street. “That’s very important,” she says. “You can’t see the swimming pool from the house. And until we built a second story, you couldn’t see the house from the beach.”
And if she were to build a different house? She pauses. “I think I would have something much purer, much more classic.” Then she pauses again. “But I don’t know if I would bother. This suits us, the way we are. It’s the kind of house that you don’t have to worry about. Of course I like things to be nice, but ultimately they’re not worth worrying about. When you have a dog or children, you know you can’t worry about any of that,” she says.
“And I like to put my feet up. I think if someone gave me a wonderful 18th-century set of furniture today that needed a lot of care, I just wouldn’t bother. I’d probably give it back or ask a museum to take it or something. Anyway, decorating a house isn’t a great art or anything. It’s a secondary art. It’s just a part of life; it should suit you.”
